#what are your moments that you go back to?? please tell me so I can go back to them too

[okwonyo]

HIGH HEELS SHOES ✶ when you wear heels 𓈒

𝗔𝗟𝗢𝗥𝗦或 ❜ 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗅. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽.

【 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 】 𝑙’ enhypen & female!reader 14OO established relationship ⠀ ｡ ｡ skinship kissing

骚人 ܃ i have .. no idea of what this is ㅠㅠ

reblogs⠀⠀ꢾ꣒⠀ feedbacks please

HEESEUNG

“baby,” he calls from the bathroom upon finishing to get ready. he gets out of to go to the room where you are getting ready. “we have to leave soon, are you—”

his mouth gets dry when he is hit by the heaven-like vision of you standing in front of the mirror. he stops in his movements, unable to say anything for a while.

it gives you enough seconds to turn around and look at him. your giggles echoes in the room when you see his face.

your body grows hot as your boyfriend checks you out with barely controlled lust written all over his face.

you can tell by the expression on he his wearing the the red dress you are wearing is driving him into a spiral— but, you see him crumble when his eyes fall on your heels and lingers on your legs.

he groans as he walks to you, “you can’t do this to me, baby,” his hand comes settle themselves on your waist before he pulls you close. he kisses you first, yet he is the one that says, “we really need to leave soon.”

JAY

“they are so beautiful,” you breathe out, holding the beautiful heels you just got gifted by your boyfriend. you barely remember mentioning this brand and specific shoes but he does, vividly.

he smiles, relieved as if you could ever dislike anything he gives you. his hand holds the back of your neck gently as he gives you a forehead kiss, “i’m glad you like them, princess.”

you let yourself get kissed— as you are still in a dreamlike state, you don’t even realize that you are giggling when his lips connect with your skin. and you are too busy staring at the beautiful gift to realize that the man is getting on one knee.

he delicately takes the box out of your hands, “let me help you,” he tells you, putting the box on the floor.

he takes one of the heels in the box and under your adoring gaze, as if you were a princess, he lifts your legs up ever so gently, high enough to slide the shoe on your foot. your love for him grows, although you thought that was impossible, as you watch him do the same for your other foot.

“perfect,” he says when he is done. he gets up, and kisses you again— on your mouth this time. “you are perfect, angel.”

JAKE

as soon as you arrive home, you reach for the bedroom— closely followed by your boyfriend— to lay on the mattress. back resting against the soft mattress, a soft sigh leaves the barrier of your lips as you stare at the ceiling.

“let me help you, m’love,” his sweet voice declares. for a moment, you are confused about what he could be possibly talking about then you feel his hand wrapping around your ankle.

he holds one of your high heel, sliding the louboutin shoe off your feet— with such care that it almost makes you dizzy.

“you didn’t have to,” you chuckle when he takes off the other half of the pair of heels. you shamelessly watch him take off his suit’s vest from the front side of the bed.

shortly, he finds himself crawling on top of you, “you are so pretty,” he whispers. he doesn’t think that adding ‘tonight’ would be truthful. he thinks you are always gorgeous. “i thought i wouldn’t be able to control myself everytime i looked at you.”

you wrap your fingers around his tie, slowly pulling you closer to your lips. he sighs when you finally kiss— as if he was waiting for it all day long. honestly, he was.

SUNGHOON

there is nothing about you that goes unnoticed by him. because he spends most of his time staring at you, he notices every bit of your expression. even if you are smiling, he catches the wince when you think no one is looking.

however, he waits until you are in the intimacy of the back of the car, drove by your chauffeur, to do something about it. your legs are already over his laps when the car starts to move.

“are they hurting?” his question reaches you after a long silence. you raise a brow, silently asking him what he is talking about. you nod when he asks again, “your feet. are they hurting?”

the man gets out of the car quickly when it stops, just to rush and open the door for you. upon your feet gets in contact with ground, as you steadily stands on the floor, he steps closer.

you let out a surprised noise when your body gets almost turned upside down. his strong arms hold you, carry you like a newly married woman going ro spend time with her husband.

you will always be amazed about how he can pick you up with no efforts needed, as if you weighed nothing. it’s so attractive, you want to kiss him.

SUNOO

he gladly accepts to help you choose what pair of heels you are going to wear tonight. he is the one who encouraged you to wear them, and he is always more than happy to help you out.

but the truth is, your lover is way too distracted by you to think straight. his opinion is clearly biased because he thinks that everything you wear is beautiful.

“what about those ones?” your voice pulls him out of his contemplation of you. standing between his legs as he sits on the couch, you stare at the heels as he stares at you.

he doesn’t even try to look at the shoes on your feet. he only holds your hand to make you sit on his lap instead before breathing out; “gorgeous.”

you chuckle, shyness takes over you when he kisses your cheek gently and rubs your thigh with his thumb. “you didn’t even look at them, sun.”

his lips peck your cheek once again, then another time, clearly waiting for you to turn your head and kiss him— you do it and against your lips he murmurs, “everything you wear is beautiful, baby.”

JUNGWON

he loves it. he loves when you wear heels, he loves how it makes your legs look so alluring— more alluring than the already are— he loves how hypotonic it looks as well as it sounds when you walk.

put on heels and the man can’t think about anything else, he can’t do anything else other than stare at you, he doesn’t want to do anything else but touch you.

his large hand holds your hip and rests on your lower back as you walk. his hands holds on your waist as you talk to your friends, he pulls you closer to his body every time he feels like you are too far.

from behind you, he leans in to reach your ear as your friends discuss. his lips brush against your neck, kisses your skin before he whispers, “you look so good, doll.”

you laugh quietly, it is barely audible for anyone that isn’t as close to you as he is. in a teasing tone, you warn him. “jungwon, you are going to strangle me.”

the ongoing conversation fades out, for the both of you as he kisses your neck again. his mouth trails from your exposed shoulder to behind you ear and you elbow him when he tries to bite your earlobe.

RIKI

he is deeply in love. his heart starts to beat as soon as he gets a glimpse of you face through your house’s door. he stands correctly as soon as he sees you— so lovesick.

his mouth falls agape while you approach him, his eyes scans your entire being with nothing but pure awe. it’s the first time you wear this kind of shoes and he prays it’s not the last.

he doesn’t realize that his hand moved to his chest. feeling his heartbeat beneath his palms, he breathes out as you are finally to him, “you didn’t used to be that tall.”

he feels like he is going crazy when you tilt your head to the side, he mirrors your movement hopelessly as well as the smile you wear as you answer, “is that all you have to say?”

he can’t help but laugh at your cute fake pout. then he comes closer to your face, “of course not,” he gives you a sweet kiss before continuing; “you’re beautiful, sweetheart.”

he is satisfied when you smile widely at him, as the saying says ‘happy wife, happy life’ even if you are not married. yet.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[lexalith]

FRIENDS || Choi Su-Bong (Thanos)

summary: after late-night sexting with your best friend, everything changes. the bond you thought was purely platonic starts to feel deeper. were these feelings always there, hidden beneath the surface? or did something just… click? is this the start of something real, or the beginning of a mistake that could ruin everything?

warnings: aged up female reader (they’re both in their late twenties) (MDNI), smut (masturbation, fingering, public sex, p in v, oral sex (f and m), sexting, edging, praising, unprotected sex (don’t be silly)) semi and minsu are victims of the reader’s and subong’s freakiness, angst (name calling, miscommunication, pushing, throwing things, lying, deception, fear of commitment, reader refuses to help him at some point, slapping, slutshame remarks), overuse of the words ‘fuck’ and ‘fucking’ (lmaoo), subong should be a warning himself, fwb dynamic, reader uses someone to forget subong, drug use and addiction.

a/n: i’ve never ever written anything here on tumblr before, so i don’t really know what i’m doing, help. also, english isn’t my first language, so mistakes should be present!! lowercase is intentional. this is an au with no games. text messages are in different colors (orange for the reader, purple for subong). the reader’s dialogue is in bold. mind you, this is LOOOONG (it’s a whole fic)

songs that inspired me to write this: friends — chase atlantic || back to friends — sombr || heartbeat — childish gambino || casual — chappell roan

this fic was also inspired by @jedisupernova ‘s writing, check out her page and fics!!! (they’re soooo good)

you’re still thinking about what that guy said. it wasn’t even a big deal, not really. just some random jerk at the club who’d had a few too many drinks and decided to share his unfiltered thoughts about your body. “you’re not really my type,” he’d said, like you’d asked. then he’d laughed and added, “not many guys would go for that.”

it shouldn’t bother you. you know it shouldn’t. but now, a few nights later, it’s stuck in your head, looping like a song you can’t turn off. so, lying in bed, scrolling aimlessly, you do what you always do when something’s bugging you—you text him. your best friend.

subong. are you awake?

yes ma’am. why?

i got a random question. but like, it’s not that deep

???

do you think i’m attractive?

you fire it off without overthinking, like it’s no big deal. it’s not weird to ask your best friend something like this. right?

it takes him a few minutes to reply.

what kind of question is that?

just answer

i’m too high for this shit, bro

you’re not high🙄 liar

i wish i were

omfg can you just say yes or no? please? but be honest, i promise i won’t get mad

yeah, i think u are

really?

sure thinggg, u’re hot mama

dude quit playing, i’m being serious over here

i’m not fucking playing

okay you think i’m attractive but like… what kind of attractive? cute attractive? like awwww. or i’d-fuck-you-raw attractive?

what are we even talking about

why can’t you just answer?😭

what is this for?

for my knowledge

tf is that supposed to mean?

you stare at the screen, mentally deciding whether you should tell him about what happened or not. you hadn’t told him before, not wanting to give it more attention. but this time, you decide to.

ugh, remember i went clubbing the other day? well this dude was being an asshole to me and he said some stuff and i can’t stop thinking about it so just be fucking honest and answer my question

some stuff? what stuff?

he said, and i quote ‘not many guys would go for that’. ‘that’ is me, btw💀

who tf is this dude?

bruh idk, some random guy, it doesn’t matter

it does?

are you gonna answer my question or no?

yeah. i think u r both kinds.

good, good, you think to yourself. his reply makes you relax a little, the knot in your stomach loosening. he thinks you’re attractive. of course he does—he’s your best friend, and best friends are supposed to hype you up.

for a moment, you stare at your phone, chewing on your bottom lip. you know you should leave it there, let it go. but something keeps tugging at you.

so, hypothetically, would you… yk, with me?

the second you hit send, panic sets in. your pulse skyrockets, and you almost want to throw your phone across the room. why did you do that? why couldn’t you just shut up? but you don’t have time to spiral, because the dots appear almost immediately.

are u serious?

and you freeze. your fingers hover over the screen, but you can’t bring yourself to type anything back. what kind of answer is that?

alr, imma be honest. yeah i would

your heart stops. you blink at the message, reading it again and again, like the words might change if you look long enough. you weren’t prepared for this.

subong’s typing…

would u? with me?

you want to lie, to brush it off, but your fingers move before your brain can stop them.

maybe

the dots pop up again. then disappear. then pop up again.

maybe?? that means yes. cmon i’m hot as hell, baby, u know it. u’ve probably touched yourself thinking about me at least once

wtf bro you’re giving me the biggest ick rn 💀

but have u?

and you? i bet you jerk off to my insta photos, perv. don’t even start lmaoo

can’t help it when u look that good💯

you stare at his message, your mind scrambling to process it. you feel your breath catch in your throat. the shock should be overwhelming, but instead, you feel a strange warmth spread through you.

you didn’t expect this. the idea that he’s been thinking about you like that… it sends a shiver down your spine. you should probably tell him to stop, tell him it’s too much, but instead, you feel yourself leaning in, pulled toward this conversation in a way you didn’t think you would be.

i may or may not have done the same with your insta pics

i knew itttt señorita 🙏🏼

shut up

how many times?

why do you wanna know?🤨

i answered ur stupid ass questions, now u answer mine

maybe like idk, two?

no fucking way, just two????????

you think it’s not enough or what???? how many times have you done it?

more than u wanna know

how bad are we talking?

so bad i’ve lost count. u really want me to get into details?

maybe i do

bro, let’s just say that everytime u post i’m over here fighting a battle

you do realize i’m your bestfriend right?

yeah, so?

so aren’t there any girls to jerk off to instead of me???

yeah but they don’t make me as hard

you stare at the screen, your heart pounding, your legs squeezing together instinctively. what the hell is happening right now? and then another message comes through.

even saying this shit is getting me worked up

what???😭 you’re hard??

yeah bro, what's a guy supposed to do when his best friend asks if he would fuck her?

it was hypothetical

hypothetically speaking, if a guy was attracted to his best friend, he'd probably be rock fucking hard right now. so yeah, i'm fucking hard, girl

your stomach flips at the bluntness of his words. you can feel the blood rushing to your face as you stare at the message.

too much info, subong

nahhh, u asked. u wanted details, so here they are

okay… should i leave you to it?

fuck no

damn alr, suffer then🙄

could u help me out?

help you out?????????????

with a pic of u or smth

boy whatttttttttt

what?

i’m not sending you fucking nudes wtf 💀💀

no one asked for that, stupid. just a pic of u

just a pic of you. the request feels so simple. he’s your bestfriend—it’s not that big of a deal, right? especially after everything you’ve both just confessed to each other.

your eyes flick toward the mirror in your room. you’re in your pajamas. no bra. you know how it looks. it’s the kind of thing you wouldn’t think twice about wearing around him in person, but now, with this conversation, it feels different. your legs carry you to the mirror almost on autopilot. you pick up your phone and angle it toward your reflection. you shouldn’t even be entertaining this. but instead, you snap the picture. you stare at it for a moment, biting your lip. it’s not explicit—it’s just you. but still… you know exactly how he’ll see it.

your thumb hovers over the send button, hesitation gripping you. a hundred reasons not to do this race through your head, but one single thought drowns them all out: you want to know how he’ll react. before you can second-guess yourself, you hit send. the moment it delivers, your stomach drops, a mix of adrenaline and regret washing over you. you sit down on the edge of your bed, staring at the screen, waiting for his response, your heart pounding louder with every passing second.

hoooooooooly shitttttttttt

it’s just a pic

yeah, a pic of u looking like that

im just in my pajamas

and i’m hornier now, if that’s even possible

subong you can’t just say stuff like that

why not? we always tell each other everything

i should’ve thrown on a hoodie

i’d still be thinking of what’s underneath

well, glad i could help your horny ass🫡 enjoy or whatever

subong’s typing…

subong’s online

subong’s typing…

subong’s online

you watch the dots—flickering like they're mocking you. you can't help but wonder what he's typing—or if he's second-guessing whatever bold thing he's about to say. but then, they disappear. nothing. you frown, staring at the screen, waiting a few more seconds. still nothing. you realize exactly what he's probably doing. you bite your lip, heat creeping up your neck as the image forms in your mind: him, sitting there, hand wrapped around his dick, staring at the picture you sent.

you feel like you need to do something—anything—to distract yourself. you toss your phone onto the bed and reach for the remote, flipping on a random tv show. you let the noise fill the silence, but your mind keeps drifting back to him. it's a few minutes later when your phone dings. the sound cuts through the room like a knife, and you hesitate for a moment, staring at the screen, before finally reaching for it.

it's him. he sent a picture.

these are my pajamas. now we’re even, baby

him, standing in front of the mirror, shirtless and wearing only a pair of tight black briefs. the way he's posing is so over the top... he's trying way too hard. his expression is almost comical, like he's not really sure if he's pulling it off but is hoping you'll think he is. you can't help it—you stifle a laugh. but then your eyes drop, and that laughter dies in your throat. the bulge is so obvious, pushing against the fabric in a way that's impossible to ignore. it's not just visible, it's big. big enough that your pulse spikes, and you forget to breathe for a second. that laughter you were holding back? gone. you glance back at his goofy grin in the mirror, but it's no longer funny. shit. you’re wet.

you don't even know how it happens. one moment, you're staring at his picture, then a teasing comment here, a bold reply there—and before you know it, you're lying on your bed, your phone clutched in one hand and your other slipping between your thighs, pressed against the growing ache he's stoked with every message. you've never gone this far with him before—always ignoring his obvious flirting. but you can’t stop now. and he isn’t shy about it either, telling you with detail everything he would do to you.

u'd look soooo fucking good begging under me, baby

and what if i don’t?

then i'd make u

mhmmm, how?

fuck, i’d bury my face between those thighs and eat u out until u can’t take it anymore

a soft gasp escapes your lips as you read, your body reacting to the vivid images his words paint in your mind. you know you shouldn't be doing this—not with him—but the way he's describing everything makes you forget about all the reasons why. you’re far past the point of feeling shy too. you bite your lip, barely believing yourself as you hit send.

i wish you could feel how wet i am just thinking about you fucking me from behind

god damn girl, i’d stretch that pussy so good my dick is the only thing u’d think about for weeks

and then, it's not just texting anymore—you're sending pictures, even though you swore you wouldn't. the first one is a close-up of your fingers, glistening with your juices. his reply comes almost instantly, not as a text but as a voice message. “shit, baby, you're f-fucking killing me... mhmm... look at that. you're so fucking wet f’me, I can almost taste it through the screen... fuck...” his voice is low and rough, broken by soft, shaky breaths. you can hear him stroking himself, moans slipping out between words. you're losing your damn mind over it, replaying the voice message again and again—fingers curling inside of you as you push them in and out, wishing it were his fingers instead of yours.

he sends a pic too. this time, he leaves nothing to the imagination. it’s a selfie, his face barely visible at the corner. the center of attention is his hard dick, hand wrapped around it, tip leaking precum. and the only thing that comes to your mind right there and then is just how badly you want to take him in your mouth.

one picture leads to another, the messages growing dirtier with every exchange. his words are filthy, his photos even filthier, and the way he talks about your body—what he'd do to it, what he's imagining—fucking hell. your breathing quickens, your body burning with need, and before you know it, that familiar tension starts to coil low in your stomach.

shit, subong… i’m close

u’re gonna cum for me? cmon pretty girl, let me hear you

you hit record just as your orgasm crashes over you, moaning his name loudly as you cum on your fingers. after a few minutes, he sends a voice message back “you sound so fucking good… shit, look what you’ve done t-to me… mmm… fuck, fuck, fuck… i’m gonna cum thinking about fucking you, baby. i’m gonna cum thinking about you making those… s-sounds while i fucking pound into you.”

the next few days are a blur. he hasn’t texted, and you haven’t either. but no matter what you do, you can’t stop thinking about what happened. no matter how hard you try to shake it off, it’s there. his voice, the way he sounded saying your name, the damn nudes, the way your heart raced as you typed those things to him.

you don’t know how to feel about it. on one hand, you can’t deny how much you wanted it in the moment. but now? now you’re not sure. did you cross a line? did he? part of you regrets it, wishes you could just rewind and stop yourself before things spiraled. but another part—one you’re trying to ignore—remembers how good it felt, how right it seemed in the moment.

and then there’s the friendship. years of it. he’s been your best friend for a few years now. he knows things about you no one else does and he’s seen you at your absolute worst. like that night you showed up at his door after a horrible breakup. mascara streaked down your cheeks, and he didn’t say a word—just handed you a blanket, put on your favorite movie, and sat there with you until you fell asleep on his shoulder.

but it wasn’t always serious. like the time he tried rapping one of his freestyles for you, all cocky, and you laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe. or like the time you tripped over absolutely nothing at the mall, and he laughed so hard he cried, then spent weeks reenacting it whenever you were around. or when he clogged your toilet and tried to fix it himself instead of just telling you. or when he picked a fight with some guy at a club because the guy bumped into you and didn’t apologize. he got all puffed up and said, “you got a problem, man?” like he was some kind of action movie hero. but the guy was huge, like, rugby player huge, and before you could drag subong away, he swung and missed, and the dude took him down in one hit. he spent the rest of the night with a bloody nose and ice pressed to his face, grumbling, “he got lucky.” you still remind him of how he ‘lost a fight in one punch,’ and it always makes him groan.

you’ve got a thousand stupid inside jokes that no one else would understand, like how you always text each other ‘don’t die’ instead of ‘goodnight’ because of some dumb horror movie you watched together. or the fact that he nicknamed you ‘señorita’ when you said you wanted to visit spain one day.

he’s a walking disaster, an endless source of secondhand embarrassment, and somehow, that’s what makes subong… subong. being around him has always felt easy, like slipping into your favorite hoodie—comfortable, familiar, safe.

but friends don’t do… that. what if it’s never the same again? you’ve always been comfortable with him, never overthinking what you said or did around him. now, you can’t imagine looking him in the eye without thinking about what you two did together. you keep telling yourself that things will go back to normal, but deep down, you’re scared they won’t. because you’re not sure you can go back—not after knowing what it felt like to be wanted by him in that way. not after letting yourself want him back.

one day, out of the blue, he texts you like nothing happened. just casually, like you didn't have your hand between your thighs while listening to him moan your name a few nights ago.

yoooo, wanna hop on call and play videogames? i’m bored

at first, you stare at the text, because... what does this mean? is this his way of brushing it under the rug? of pretending nothing ever happened? still, you say yes. because what else can you do? you hop into the call, and there he is—joking, laughing, completely normal. like the two of you didn't cross every possible line. he's so good at acting like nothing's changed, it almost convinces you. you match his energy, responding with the same casual ease. maybe this is fine. maybe you're fine.

then the group chat lights up a few days later: a cinema meet-up. everyone's throwing out ideas for what movie to watch, talking about snacks, debating over showtimes. he's there, throwing in jokes about popcorn sizes and his infamous sweet tooth, and you're sitting there trying to decide if you can handle seeing him face to face. you hesitate, debating if you should just make up an excuse not to go. but then he replies to the chat, tagging you specifically.

u better be there señorita

i will🙃

the day arrives faster than you’d like, and before you know it, you’re standing outside the cinema, stomach flipping as you spot namgyu, minsu, gyeongsu, and semi waving at you. you force a smile and walk over, doing your best to focus on their chatter and ignore the nerves crawling up your spine. but then you see him—subong, leaning against the wall, vape in hand. and when his eyes land on you, he smirks. he knows damn well. he knows exactly what you’re thinking, and he’s not going to make this easy for you. “finally,” he says when you’re close enough. “i was starting to doubt you’d come.” “why wouldn’t i?” you reply. he shrugs, taking a puff from his vape “thought you might’ve had better things to do.” the way he says it feels loaded, but he doesn’t give you time to respond, turning his attention to namgyu instead.

when it’s time to head into the cinema, you try to position yourself far from him, making a beeline for a seat between minsu and semi. you settle in, thinking you’re safe, but of course, subong has other plans. “yo, minsu, my boy,” he says as he walks down the aisle, stopping directly in front of you. “mind scooting over? i’ll sit here.” “uh, sure,” minsu says, shifting down without hesitation. you open your mouth to object, but before you can say anything, subong is sliding into the seat next to you, drink in one hand and a bag of popcorn in the other. “hope you don’t mind,” he murmurs, leaning a little closer than necessary. you grit your teeth, keeping your gaze locked on the screen as the previews start. “not at all,” you mutter under your breath.

you think that’s it. but, of course, it doesn’t end there. he shifts in his seat, his arm brushing against yours every now and then, like he’s waiting for you to react. you swear you catch him smirking out of the corner of your eye multiple times. you try to focus on the movie, but it’s impossible when his presence is so loud. every little movement, every tiny glance, has your nerves on edge. and he knows it.

then, you feel it. his hand—light at first— rests on your bare thigh, the heat of his palm sending a jolt through you. you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. what the hell is he doing? his fingers trace a soft line along your skin, caressing just above your knee. you stay still, unsure of what to do, but your body betrays you, not pulling away.

his touch grows bolder, creeping higher up your leg, slipping under your skirt. you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. he's still watching the movie, acting like nothing is happening, like his hand isn't inches away from your clothed pussy. “what are you doing?” you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper. he turns his head toward you, looking innocent, like he's just minding his own business. “nothing.” “subong—” “i'll stop if you want me to.” you don't answer, torn between wanting to push him away and not wanting him to stop at all. “do you want me to stop? be honest,” he says, still waiting for your response. “no,” you reply, looking away with embarrassment. he chuckles softly—hand rubbing the inside of your thigh.

you drape the thin jacket you brought over your legs, a flimsy attempt to shield his hand from semi’s view. every nerve in your body screams that you shouldn’t be letting this happen, but you don’t stop him. he spreads your legs with his hand for better access, and soon you feel two of his fingers pressing against your clit over the fabric of your panties. your breath hitches, and you try not to move—not even a sound escapes you—but your lips part at the feeling of his touch. he moves them slow—too slow—in a way that has you shifting against him, your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more. and he gives it to you. his hand slips beneath your soaked underwear, and a low chuckle leaves him when he feels just how wet you are.

subong knows what he is doing. he rubs your clit in circles, gently but with enough pressure to have you biting your bottom lip. and god, his fingers feel so much better than you ever imagined. when he quickens the pace, a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, and you quickly slap a hand over your mouth, pretending to be focused on the screen. but the rapid rise and fall of your chest betrays your so-called calm. before you can collect yourself, semi leans in. “are you okay?” “mhm,” you nod quickly, forcing a smile. “yeah, don't worry, i—” your words falter when his fingers move faster. you bite your lip, trying to hold it together, but he's clearly enjoying watching you struggle. “i-i'm fine,” you manage to stutter. semi raises an eyebrow. “you sure?” “yeah,” you nod. “alright,” semi says before shrugging and turning her attention back to the screen.

you let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through you. your head snaps toward subong, eyes narrowing in a glare that’s meant to convey exactly how ridiculous he’s being right now. you dig your nails into his wrist, “are you crazy?” but he only pauses for a second, leaning in close enough to whisper, “relax, girl. no one noticed.” the audacity of him sends heat rushing to your face. but he doesn’t back down, his fingers resuming their slow, torturous movements. and just as you’re about to reach your orgasm… he stops. your body jerks in frustration, and you whip your head toward him, confused. his smirk only deepens as he pulls his hand from under your skirt, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking them clean. “what the fuck?” you whisper, a soft groan escaping at the loss of his touch. “what?” he whispers back, feigning innocence. “you know what.” “i don't. you'll have to spell it out for me.” “subong—” “tell me what you want.” the frustration wells up in your chest. to him, this is probably hilarious—you being so desperate. but for you? it's humiliating. pathetic. begging your best friend for something like this. still, the need outweighs your pride. you lean in, your lips almost brushing his ear, “i wanna... i wanna cum. please, make me cum.” “yeah? be fucking quiet, then.”

his fingers slip back under your skirt. your breath catches, and you press your lips together, your body already trembling from how close you were before—gripping the armrest, barely able to keep still. every nerve in your body feels like it's on fire, and when his fingers circle just right, you're done. the release hits hard, and you muffle your moans by biting down on your lip so hard it stings.

the days after are... strange. again. no texting, no acknowledgment, no teasing, nothing. it's like it never happened. and when he does text again, it's so casual it throws you off. he sends a random picture, a meme he has found on instagram.

this shit is so funny bro loooololol

i fear your humor is broken😐

naahhh u just don’t get ittt babyy

you reply like everything's fine because, well, isn't it? you don’t even know at this point.

another day, he messages the group chat:

pentagon this weekend?🔥

the replies come fast. namgyu’s working that night. semi has plans with her girlfriend. gyeongsu says he’s too exhausted for it. minsu doesn’t even reply. everyone has an excuse, and eventually, the chat goes dead. then, a private message from subong popps up.

wbu? still down to go?

you and subong had gone clubbing together hundreds of times. hell, most nights it was just the two of you, dancing until your legs gave out, taking blurry selfies, and laughing over cheap drinks. it was normal. so, you type:

yeah, sureee

bet. see u saturday, señorita

when the night comes, your phone buzzes as you’re double-checking your look in the mirror.

outside

outsideeee

outsideeeeeeeee

hellooooooooooooooooooo

one minute, let me grab my jacket

i’m freezing man

one minute my ass

patience is a virtue ❤️

cmooooooooon

u knitting the jacket or what

girl i just hit retirement age waiting for u

you’re so dramatic

and u r so slow, balance baby

you grab your jacket and head out, the bass from his car already thudding through the air when you step outside. you see him leaning against the passenger door, dressed in his usual baggy style—a loose graphic tee, cargo pants, and sneakers that probably cost more than your entire outfit (the only damn thing he saves up for…)—vape dangling lazily from his fingers. when he sees you, his eyes trail over you for a second too long. “you’re overdressed,” he teases with a smile. “you’re underdressed,” you shoot back.

the drive to club pentagon is easy, filled with a mix of rap tracks and subong’s singing. when you finally pull up, the line’s already stretching down the block, but subong doesn’t even blink. “namgyu’s working, right?” he asks, sliding out of the car. you nod. “yeah, he’ll let us in.” inside, the music is already pulsing, bass heavy enough to shake the floors. subong grabs your wrist. “drinks first?” “obviously,” you answer. you follow subong to the bar, the pounding music buzzing in your ears. “what are we starting with?” he asks, leaning against the bar. “shots,” you say, already reaching into your bag. he raises an eyebrow. “you’re paying?” “you’re broke,” you remind him, rolling your eyes before ordering four shots of tequila. when the glasses arrive, he grabs two and hands you one. “guess i’ll owe you,” he says, clinking his glass against yours. “you already do,” you reply, downing the first shot without hesitation. the familiar burn of tequila trails down your throat, and you chase it with a quick breath.

you can feel his eyes on you as you throw back the second shot. you don’t meet his gaze, but you can feel it—the weight of it, the way it makes your stomach flutter. shaking it off, you slam your glass on the counter and signal for one more round. “last one,” you say, mostly to yourself, pulling out more cash. he doesn’t argue, just picks up his shot, watching you as you pick up yours. you both toss back the final shot, and the alcohol is just enough to loosen the knot in your chest. but the way his gaze lingers as he sets his glass down makes it tighten again. “dancing?” you ask. he nods. you push through the crowd till you find a spot on the dance floor. the techno track thuds through your chest as you sway to the rhythm. subong moves with you, not particularly in sync with the beat, but in his own way that somehow works. every now and then, his eyes catch yours, and you have to force yourself to look away.

the music builds, and you let yourself get lost in it, the alcohol buzzing through your veins and the tension from earlier slowly dissolving into the haze of the moment. after a while, he stops moving and pulls his phone from his pocket. you glance at him, curious, as he squints at the screen. whatever he sees makes him smile faintly before he shoves the phone back into his pocket. “i need to hit the bathroom!” he says, leaning close so you can hear. you blink at him, confused. “right now?” he nods, gesturing for you to follow. you don’t argue—it’s not exactly safe to hang around the dance floor by yourself. reluctantly, you let him lead you off the floor.

he disappears into the men’s room, leaving you standing against the wall, arms crossed. you tap your foot, watching drunk strangers stumble past. a few minutes later, the door swings open, and subong walks out, a small smirk playing on his lips. “what took you so long?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him. instead of answering, he holds up a small plastic bag between his fingers. your stomach flips when you see the little colorful pills inside. “what the hell is that?” you ask, but you already know. he grins, tilting his head. “new stuff.” your brows furrow. “what?” “my plug got these,” he says, holding up the bag slightly. “said they hit different. figured i’d try.” he slides one pill between his fingers, studying it like it’s no big deal. then he brings it to his mouth, about to toss it back. “wait,” you say, grabbing his wrist. he scoffs. “what? you want it instead?” you glare at him. “no, subong. what are you even doing? you don’t need that!” he rolls his eyes, freeing his wrist from your grip. “come on, it’s nothing. we’ve had worse.” “worse?” you scoff. “you’re really gonna compare getting blackout drunk and smoking pot to this?” “you’re fucking overthinking it. it’s just one pill. just tonight. trust me.” he says.

you glance at the bag again, at the little pills that seem so harmless yet scream bad idea. “subong…” you start, but your voice trails off. “look,” he cuts in, his voice softer now. “we’re having a good fucking time, yeah? it’ll be just this once, okay? i promise.” “okay,” you say suddenly, lifting your chin. “but if you do one, i’ll do one.” his smirk falters for half a second. “no.” you frown. “what do you mean, no?” “i mean no. you’re not taking one.” “but you can?” you challenge, crossing your arms.“yeah.” you scoff. “that’s bullshit.” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “this isn’t your thing, señorita.” “since when it’s yours?” you snap. “if you’re gonna do it, then so am i.”

he looks at you, really looks at you. then, with an exasperated groan, he reaches into the bag. “fucking stubborn,” he mutters, pulling out another pill. “just this once.” he holds it delicately between his fingers before stepping closer. “open up,” he says, his voice dropping a notch. you hesitate for a second but eventually part your lips, sticking out your tongue. he places the pill gently on it. “there you go,” he says, stepping back and popping his own pill. you swallow it quickly, trying not to think about what you’ve just decided to do.

you move back onto the dance floor, the pill's effects creeping in like a warm wave washing over you. the flashing lights seem brighter now and everything blurs together—colors, sounds, the heat of the crowd—but it feels good. better than it should. your limbs feel lighter, like you're floating, and the energy buzzing inside you pushes you to move. subong is right there beside you, dancing with his hand raised, and you can't stop staring at him. his messy hair sticks to his forehead, sweat glistening on his tanned skin.

before you know it, your arms are around his neck, pulling him in like it’s the only thing keeping you steady. his eyes burn into yours for half a second, like he’s daring you to close the distance. then his hands are on your waist, rough fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, warm against your skin, and he drags you closer until you’re pressed against him. the music is pounding, but it feels distant—like the only rhythm you can hear now is the way your bodies move together, hips rolling in time, every brush of his skin against yours making you burn.

his breath fans across your lips, hot and tasting of tequila and something bitter—maybe the pill he took earlier—and it makes your head spin. then your mouth crashes into his. there’s nothing soft about it. it’s messy and sloppy, urgent—like you’re both too far gone to think about anything but this. his lips part against yours immediately, and your tongues meet in a dizzying clash of heat and need. his hands slide up your back, fingers threading into your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp into his mouth.

you tilt your head, chasing the kiss even deeper. you feel the sharp graze of his teeth against your bottom lip, a bite that makes you whimper before he soothes it with his tongue. the sound you make pushes him further—he groans into your mouth, his other hand gripping your jaw, tilting your face exactly how he wants it.

you’re not sure where the desperation is coming from, but it feels like if he stops touching you, you’ll shatter. your fingers clutch at his shirt, twisting the fabric as you grind just a little closer, a little harder. he’s breathing just as heavy as you are, lips red and swollen from kissing you like he never wants to stop.

you’ve kissed people before but nothing’s ever felt like this. nothing’s ever felt this fucking good. the two of you stumble out of the club. your legs feel like jelly as you hold onto subong, and his arm wraps around your waist to steady you. his car is parked a few streets over, tucked away in a dark, hidden corner under some trees. “thank god for this spot,” he mutters as he unlocks the doors.

you barely make it into the backseat before he’s on you again—his lips crashing into yours like he’s been waiting for this forever. his hands are all over you, rough and desperate, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. but you’re not going anywhere. his fingers dig into your thighs as he pulls you into his lap, and the second you straddle him, you feel it—hard and thick, pressing right against the heat between your legs. a soft gasp slips out of you, but he swallows it with another kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. fuck, he’s good.

your hands tangle in his hair, pulling as your hips start to move, grinding down on him. his grip tightens immediately, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he guides your movements, rocking you against him harder. the friction creates a delicious, aching pressure that makes you whimper against his lips. “fuck,” he breathes, breaking the kiss just long enough to let his head fall back against the seat. his fingers squeeze your ass, dragging you down against him rougher. “keep doing that.” so you do. you roll your hips, slow at first, letting yourself feel everything. you’re already soaked, already throbbing for more, and from the way his hands are gripping you, the way his breathing is getting heavier, you know he feels it too. “i need to eat you out,” he says, trailing kisses down your neck. “want you to cum on my tongue.” you do exactly what he wants—legs spread wide, thighs trembling as his head dips between them. his breath is hot against your soaked pussy, teasing, before his tongue finally makes contact—slow at first, a long, deliberate lick from your entrance to your clit that makes your whole body jolt.

you gasp at the feeling, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging hard, but it only makes him groan against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure straight through you. he doesn’t hold back. he devours you, eating you out like a man starved, his tongue flicking against your clit before he sucks it into his mouth. and when two of his fingers slip inside you, curling deep, pressing against that perfect spot, you swear you see stars. “you taste so fucking good,” he groans against you, his lips slick with your arousal before he flattens his tongue and laps up every drop. the way he’s working you—his mouth, his fingers, the filthy sounds coming from between your legs—it’s too much, too good, and your whole body is trembling, hips rolling against his face, chasing more. “shit—subong!” your voice breaks as the pleasure crashes over you all at once. your thighs clamp around his head, your body arching off the seat as you cum hard against his mouth. but he doesn’t stop—his tongue keeps moving, drinking you in, dragging out your release until you’re shaking.

when he comes back up to kiss you—chin shining with the evidence of your release— your hand instinctively moves to rub him through his pants, the hard outline of his dick impossible to miss. he hisses at the contact, his hips bucking eagerly against your touch. “you got a condom?” you ask. he pauses. “yeah, hold on.” reluctantly, he pulls away and starts patting his pockets. his brows furrow in concentration as he checks one side, then the other. finally, with a relieved grin, he pulls a condom out and holds it up. “got it,” he says before kissing the wrapper, making you chuckle.

he looks so fucking hot as he rolls the condom onto his cock, his chest rising and falling with anticipation. but nothing gets him off more than watching you climb back onto his lap, your soaked folds teasing the head of his dick as you line yourself up. his breath stutters, his hands gripping your thighs, barely holding himself back. “fuck, you’re so wet,” he says, voice tight with restraint. then, slowly you sink down onto him. inch by inch, he stretches you open, filling you up until there’s no space left between your bodies. “shit,” he hisses, watching as your slick coats him, making every movement easy, effortless—like your body was made to take him. and when you start moving, lifting your hips before sliding back down, a broken moan escapes his lips. “fuck, baby,” he breathes, hands roaming up your back, gripping your ass, anything to ground himself as you ride him. “you feel so f-fucking good—look at you, taking me so… mmm… so fucking well.” his voice is needy, and when you slam down harder, his hips jerk up to meet yours, pushing even deeper. “oh my—fuck, subong!” you cry out, your walls clenching around him so tight it makes his whole body tense beneath you.

he almost fucking loses it the second he feels you clench around him, his face twisting in pleasure, jaw going slack. his hands grip your hips, guiding you—faster, rougher—eyes locked on where your bodies meet, watching his cock disappear inside you over and over again. he forces himself to meet your gaze, even though his eyes keep threatening to roll back. “fuck, if i’d known how fucking good this pussy is… i would’ve f-fucked you sooner.” he moans as you move faster, bouncing on his cock—every thrust making obscene, slick sounds that only turn him on more. his eyes drop to your tits, bouncing perfectly in time with your movements, and fuck, he can’t decide what he wants more—to keep watching you ride him like this or to flip you over and ruin you.

but then you tighten around him, your rhythm stuttering as you throw your head back, moaning so loud he swears the whole damn neighborhood can hear you. “fuck— i’m gonna—! i-i’m gonna cum!” you cry out, your whole body trembling, thighs shaking as you cum around his cock. and that’s it. that’s all it takes to break him. “shit—ngh!” his body jerks beneath you, his abs tensing as he spills into the condom, his head falling back, mouth open.

his hands are still gripping you, holding you down against him as he rides out every last pulse of his release, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. and fuck—you’re still wrapped around him, warm and wet and perfect. you end up laughing for a solid twenty minutes after that, still too high to fully process what the fuck just happened between you two. but even in your haze, every single detail stays with you the next day.

fucking your best friend while high as fuck one night might’ve been an accident. but then it happens again. and again. and again. and you can’t call it an accident anymore.

it happens everywhere.

in his car, where the windows are always fogged up, your moans echoing in the tight space. in your apartment, where he barely gets the door shut before he’s got you pinned against it, hands rough and greedy, yanking your clothes off like he’s been waiting all fucking day for this. sometimes he doesn’t even make it past the kitchen—he just lifts you onto the counter, knocking over whatever’s in his way, too impatient to care as his mouth moves down your neck. in his bed, where the sheets are always a mess, tangled from how hard he fucks you into the mattress, his hands gripping your wrists, pinning them above your head. even in a club bathroom, right after he gives a show, still high off the energy, sweat dripping down his temple. you’re barely inside before he’s got you bent over the sink, hiking your dress up, shoving your panties to the side, fucking into you so deep you have to bite your hand to keep from screaming his name.

wherever. the second you’re alone, it’s happening. it becomes a thing. a need.

you always figured subong would fuck good. he never shut up about the girls he’s been with, the shit he’s done, bragging like he was the best lay any of them ever had. and every time he talked about it, you’d feel heat pool between your thighs, wondering if he was really that good or just full of shit.

now you knew. and fuck, he wasn’t lying.

he’s rough and passionate—the kind of lover who takes without hesitation but gives just as much, maybe even more. he loves watching you squirm, loves the way your body responds to him like it was made for this. like it needs this. his fingers trail down your skin, barely touching, making you shiver before he finally gives you what you want. and fuck, he lives for it—the way you gasp when he finally presses his mouth between your legs, the way your back arches when he fills you up, stretching you wide, making you take every inch.

some days, he drags it out, torturing you with slow touches, lazy kisses, making you beg before he finally gives in. he’ll tease you until you’re trembling, hands gripping at him desperately, “please, subong… need you so bad.” and then, maybe then, he’ll give you what you’re begging for. other days? he doesn’t bother waiting. before you can say a word, he’s got you pinned to the mattress, yanking your legs apart, pressing himself against you, making you feel just how hard he is. “been thinking about this all fucking day.” then he’s inside you, fucking you like he’s been starving for it.

it’s been months now—this thing between you and subong. but you don’t talk about it. not once. there’s no late-night confessions, no whispered ‘what are we?’ between tangled sheets. he doesn’t ask who else you’re seeing, and you sure as hell don’t ask him. but the uncertainty lingers. because he’s still your best friend. you still laugh at his dumb ass jokes, roll your eyes when he’s being his cocky self, and feel that weird, warm twist in your stomach when you catch him watching you from across the room.

and yet, there are a bunch of little things that scream something more. like that time you sat on his rumpled bed while he was writing a song, and you helped him hammer out stupid-ass verses—even when he swore they’d never work. you teased him for his cheesy lines and then watched his face light up like he’d just discovered a new fucking world. hell, he even calls you his muse sometimes, and you hate how damn proud that makes you feel.

or that stormy night. the rain was lashing against the windows, and you two were locked in his tiny studio apartment. one minute you were laughing, taking silly pictures of him with a digital camera while he smoked, and the next, he had your face pressed against the wooden table as he fucked you from behind—your ass cheeks burning from his vigorous spanking. after, he pulled you close, running his fingers through your hair as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

that one night he showed up at your door at 2 a.m., high off his ass, slurring your name with that cocky grin, his knuckles tapping too fast against the wood. “couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled, leaning against the doorframe. “fucking missed you.” you should’ve told him to fuck off, should’ve rolled your eyes and slammed the door in his face because he promised he wouldn’t do that shit again. instead, you let him in, let him collapse onto your bed with a heavy sigh, pulling you down with him. his arms caged you in, the scent of his cheap cologne filling your senses.

then there was the time you caught him staring at you while you were getting ready. you were fixing your hair in his mirror, wearing nothing but his oversized t-shirt, and when you turned around, he was just standing there—arms crossed. “what?” you asked, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. he just shook his head, smirking a little. “nothing,” he said. “you just—you look good in my clothes, mama.”

and when you called him crying after a shitty day at work, voice shaking so bad he could barely understand you. you didn’t even have to ask—he just showed up, no questions. drove way too fucking fast to get to you, and pulled you into his chest so tight it felt like he was trying to hold you together. “who do i need to punch?” he asked, half-joking, half-dead serious. and you laughed, even through your tears, because that was him—always trying to make you smile. he let you cry into his hoodie, let you hold onto him like a fucking lifeline, and then, when you finally calmed down, he kissed your forehead like it was second nature. “you’re okay, baby” he murmured. “i got you.” he always had you.

or the night he took you to some shitty underground concert, knowing damn well you didn’t even like the band. “it’s not about the music,” he told you, grinning like an idiot. “it’s about the experience.” you rolled your eyes, but you still let him pull you into the crowd, still let him wrap an arm around you when the pit got too wild, still let him hold your hand. afterward, sweaty and breathless, you sat on the curb outside, sharing a cigarette while he rambled about how sick the show was. “you should play up there one day,” you told him, nudging his shoulder. “your songs have gotten better.” “you think?” “yeah. you’re good, bong-bong.” the nickname made him laugh. a week later, he showed you something he wrote. something raw and messy and fucking beautiful. he let you hear a part of him no one else ever did.

you even helped him rebrand himself. it started with him pacing his room, muttering to himself, stopping every few seconds like he was about to say something, then changing his mind. eventually, you sighed, rolling onto your stomach while watching him from his bed. “are you having a breakdown or just being dramatic?” he ignored you, still pacing. and then, out of nowhere, he stopped. snapped his fingers. looked at you like he just discovered the secret to life itself. “i’m gonna dye my hair purple.” you stared at him for a long second, waiting for him to laugh or tell you he was joking. but he just stood there, completely serious, shoulders squared like he was about to go to war.

within twenty minutes, you were in his bathroom, gloves on, a box of purple dye sitting between you. you didn’t even ask how he got it so fast. knowing him, he’d probably been sitting on this idea for weeks, just waiting for the right moment to drag you into it. he sat on the closed toilet lid, legs spread, while you stood over him, parting his hair and working the dye through. up close, he looked smug as hell, like he knew he was onto something. the whole rap game was about standing out, and he was done waiting for people to notice him.

the name ‘thanos’ caught on faster than you expected. at first, it was a joke—you called him that to be annoying, and then he used it in a song, and suddenly, people were saying it back to him. dms started piling up. more people started listening. before you knew it, subong wasn’t just some guy making music in his bedroom—he was thanos. and, of course, he acted like he knew it was gonna work all along.

and fuck, the time he brought you home to meet his family. his mom fussed over you like you were the perfect daughter-in-law, laying on your favorite dish and insisting you have seconds. then, saying, “he talks about you a lot”, making subong choke on his food while his sister goaded him about how he treats you like his damn girlfriend. you felt so out-of-place and yet so damn loved by the way he proudly introduced you to everyone, as if you were the missing piece in his fucked-up puzzle. he even opened up to you about his dad—how he never gave a shit about him, never looked at him unless it was to point out everything he did wrong. maybe that was why he kept stealing glances at you like he was trying to make sense of it—of being wanted, of being next to someone who actually cared.

and later that night, when you were both lying on his couch, full and sleepy, he nudged your knee with his. “thanks for coming, señorita,” he mumbled, eyes half-lidded. “they liked you.” you turned your head to look at him, saying, “of course they did. i’m fucking amazing.” he smirked, but it faded quick, his gaze lingering on you a little too long. “yeah,” he murmured. “you are.”

nights that weren’t about sex at all. the ones where he just wanted you close, his hands resting on your back, his lips pressed to your shoulder, his voice low and sleepy in the dark. “you’re warm,” he’d mumble, pulling you closer. “don’t leave.” “i work tomorrow, baby,” you’d say. “i’ll drive you… stay with me,” he’d always replied.

and you did. every single time.

and there were the nights he fucked you like he meant it. not just like you were some girl he was hooking up with, but like you were the only one who had ever mattered. like he was trying to prove something with every touch, every kiss, every time he pressed his sweaty forehead to yours and whispered your name like a prayer.

like he loved you. but he never said it. and neither did you.

so instead, you settled for the quiet moments—for the way he always pulled you into his lap at parties, his hands resting lazily on your thighs; for the way he let you pick the music when you drove anywhere, even though he always bitched about your taste; for the way he let you steal his fries, let you doodle on his lyrics notebook, let you wear his hoodies even when you didn’t ask; for the way he texted you ‘good morning, baby❤️,’ and it made you smile for no damn reason; for the way you woke up to find him still asleep beside you, hair a damn mess on the pillow, and traced lazy circles on his chest while he mumbled some half-remembered melody. for the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching.

you can’t help but hope that one day you’ll both just say the damn words and finally admit that all these little moments mean something. you hope that maybe, just maybe, one day you’ll stop wondering if you’re more than just friends with benefits.

are u busy?

no, why?

good, i’ll be there in 10

i’m on my period

who gives a shitttt, i sure as hell don’t, mama

subong.

yeah?🙏🏼

not in the mood❤️

oh

alr cool👍🏼💯

can i still come over tho? we could watch a movie or something

yeah okayyy, bring snacks (or else i won’t let you in)

i’m the only snack u need, girl

you don’t expect him to show up with anything, but when you open the door, subong’s standing there, hands full—one holding a plastic bag, the other gripping a bottle of soda. “what’s all this?” you ask, raising a brow. he steps inside without waiting for an invite, kicking off his shoes. “you said ‘bring snacks’, didn’t you?” he says, dropping the bag onto your coffee table. “figured you’d want something sweet.” you peek inside—chocolate bars, a pack of strawberry pocky, even a container of sliced fruit. your chest tightens at the thought of him actually remembering the little things you like.“what, no painkillers?” you tease, flopping onto the couch. he scoffs, collapsing next to you, way too comfortable in your space. “what do i look like, a pharmacy?”

you give him a knowing look, and his lips twitch, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. grabbing the remote, you ask, “so, what are we watching?” “something i won’t fall asleep to,” he says, stretching an arm across the back of the couch. “which means no boring indie shit.” you nudge his thigh with your foot. “first of all, my movie taste is elite. second, if you fall asleep, i’m taking pictures.” he grins, lazy and cocky. “yeah? what will you use them for?” heat rushes to your face, and you smack his arm without thinking. “shut up.”

the movie plays, and for a while, it’s normal. easy. you snack on the pocky while subong steals pieces of fruit from the container, acting like he’s doing you a favor by eating the ones you don’t like. he stretches out on the couch, legs spread, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. goddamn.

it's barely been a few minutes when you find yourself on your knees in front of the couch, his strong hand fisting in your hair as you hungrily suck his dick like your life depends on it. you couldn’t help it. he just looked too fucking good. you take him deep, your nose pressing against his abs, gagging slightly but refusing to back off. he lets out a groan as you take him, the head of his dick hitting the back of your throat. His hand tightens in your hair, guiding your head up and down. “fuck, just like that baby... show me how much you love this dick.” his hips thrust forward, making you gag slightly. “you're so f-fucking good for me... mmm such a pretty little mouth, choking on my cock.”

drool slips down your chin as you struggle to breathe but maintain eye contact, wanting him to see how much you love taking him in your mouth. the wet, obscene sounds of you slurping and gagging fill the room. he watches you intently, pupils blown wide with lust, his dick throbbing against your tongue. moaning around him, the vibrations make his thighs quake. "shit... you’re gonna make me fucking c-cum," he breathes out. “you gonna… you gonna let me cum in that s-sweet mouth of yours, hm?” “mhmm,” you purr around his length, looking up at him with hooded eyes. you double your efforts, sucking him hard and fast, your hand pumping what you can’t reach. he holds your head in place as he comes, making you to swallow every last drop. you take a moment to catch your breath, wiping your mouth before sitting back up.

the bathroom lights hum to life as you rinse your mouth and splash cool water on your face, trying to shake off the heat thrumming through you. you press your palms against the sink, inhaling deep in an attempt to look less flustered. the movie’s still on when you come back. you get comfortable, leaning into subong just slightly. he doesn’t say anything, just lifts his arm and lets you settle in against his side. the warmth of him seeps into you, and you rest your head on his shoulder. subong smiles at you before kissing your forehead, something that shouldn’t mean anything but somehow does.

you shift slightly, but he just pulls you in closer, his body solid and warm against yours. your heart stutters in your chest, and the thought of what you are—what you actually mean to him—becomes impossible to ignore. the longer you sit there, the harder it is to pretend this is normal. your heart is beating too fast, your mind racing with thoughts you’ve been shoving down for months. finally, you tilt your head to glance up. “subong,” you start, your voice quieter than you mean it to be. he hums, eyes still on the screen, but you can tell he’s listening. you swallow, suddenly nervous. “what… what are we doing?” that gets his attention. “what do you mean?” you sit up a little, putting some space between you—enough to see him clearly. “this. us. it’s been months, and we’ve never talked about it.” “what’s there to talk?” “i mean, is this just sex to you?”

he doesn’t answer right away. his jaw tenses, his eyes flicking away for a second like he’s weighing his words. “does it feel like just sex to you?” he finally asks. your chest tightens. “no.” his lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to admit it so easily. like maybe he’s been trying to convince himself of something different. “right. it’s not just sex, we’re friends, too,” he says. “then why are we acting like this?” you push. he rubs a hand over his face. “i don’t know.” he leans forward, elbows on his knees. the silence stretches thick between you, but you refuse to let it suffocate you. you need to know. “what do you want this to be?”

subong exhales hard, dragging a hand through his hair. he looks frustrated, like he doesn’t even want to have this conversation. like you’re ruining something by asking. “why do we have to call it something?” he says finally, and your stomach twists. you blink, sitting up a little. “because it’s been months, subong. because we’re not—we’re not just fucking and then going our separate ways. because we’re sitting here, cuddling, watching a damn movie, and it feels like more.” his jaw clenches, his fingers tightening around his knee. “it doesn’t have to mean anything.” that stings. worse than you were expecting. you swallow around the lump forming in your throat. “it does to me.” his face twists, like he hates hearing that. “shit, don’t fucking do this,” he mutters, shaking his head. “why can’t we just keep things the way they are?” “because i’m tired of pretending this is casual when it’s not,” you snap, your voice cracking. “not for me, at least.”

he squeezes his eyes shut for a second, like he’s trying to hold something back. when he looks at you again, his expression is unreadable, but his next words hit like a punch to the gut. “then maybe you shouldn’t have let it get this fucking far.” you feel like the air has been sucked out of the room. “what?” “i never promised you shit.” the words cut deep, sharper than anything he’s ever said to you before. you open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. because he’s right. he never did. but the way he touched you, the way he held you after—none of that felt like nothing. you shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your voice steady. “are you fucking kidding me?”

he hesitates for a second too long. and that’s all you need to know. you force yourself to nod, pressing your lips together. “okay.” his brows furrow, like he wasn’t expecting you to take it like that, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything else. you grab the remote, press stop on the movie, and push yourself off the couch. “you should go.” “are you fucking serious?” you cross your arms over your chest, fighting to keep your composure. “yeah, i’m serious. get the fuck out.” “we have one fucking shitty conversation, and now you don’t want me here?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “what the fuck do you want from me, subong?” your voice shakes, and you can feel it crack, but you force it out. “sit here and pretend like i didn’t just fucking tell you how i feel? pretend i’m not fucking hurt because you—” you stop yourself, biting your lip so hard it almost bleeds. his jaw clenches. “what?” you let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and bitter. “because you don’t fucking care.” “i never said i don’t care.” “you might as well have,” you snap, voice breaking with frustration. “you just don’t give a shit enough to do anything about it.” he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, breathing hard through his nose. “just because i care doesn’t mean we have to slap a fucking label on it!” “and i just have to be okay with that?!” you snap, your voice rising. “i have to sit here like a dumbass and pretend this is fine when it’s not?”

he throws his hands up, his face twisting in frustration. “for fuck’s sake, why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?” “difficult?!” you let out a humorless laugh. “you’re the one acting like a fucking idiot, subong! you want to fuck me, cuddle me, act like i’m your fucking girlfriend, but the second i ask you to be honest about what this is, suddenly i’m the problem?! you even introduced me to your damn family!” he freezes for half a second when the words leave your mouth, then he stands up, jabbing a finger in your face. “what the fuck did you just call me?!” you swat his hand away, your glare burning into him. “don’t fucking point at me like that!” his jaw tightens, and his nostrils flare like he’s barely keeping himself from snapping. “you wanna talk about being a fucking idiot?! look in the fucking mirror!” he spits. “you’re the one acting like some needy little bitch because i won’t say what you wanna hear.” “fuck you, subong!” you don’t say anything else. you just turn on your heel and walk out of the living room, heading straight for the kitchen. your hands are shaking, your chest tight, and you just need to put some distance between you and him before you completely fall apart. behind you, you hear him scoff. “seriously? you’re just gonna walk away mid-fucking-conversation?”

you grip the edge of the counter, squeezing your eyes shut. maybe if you stay quiet, he’ll take the fucking hint and leave. but of course, he doesn’t. you hear his footsteps as he follows you in. “you always do this shit,” he mutters, his voice dripping with irritation. “running off the second things don’t go your way.” you whirl around, your eyes burning. “what should i do, then? hm? get on my knees and suck your fucking dick again?!” he clenches his fists at his sides, his mouth opening like he’s about to argue—but then he hesitates. because the truth is, you do mean something to him. he just doesn’t know how to fucking deal with it. subong has never done this before—never been in something that wasn’t just fucking around, never had to deal with real feelings, real expectations. and the idea of fucking it up? it scares the shit out of him. but instead of admitting that, instead of being honest for once in his life, he just does what he does best—pushes, lashes out. it seems easier than dealing with what he feels when he’s around you.

“why do you care so fucking much about not calling it something?” you ask, your voice softer now. “if we’re not seeing other people, if we’re always together, if you do care about me, then why?” his throat bobs as he swallows hard. and then—because he’s a fucking coward—he lies. “who says i’m not seeing other people?” you freeze. his face is unreadable, but you can see the way his fingers twitch at his sides, like he already regrets saying it. “you’re lying.” your voice is quiet. he just shrugs, “i’ve been seeing this girl.” “who?” you raise your voice, taking a step closer as tears start falling down your face. “who?!” “i’m not fucking telling you!” “are you serious?! aren’t we supposed to be friends too?! we used to tell each other everything!”

his eyes flick to yours, and for a second—just a second—something flashes in them. something like guilt. but then he shuts it down, scoffing as he shakes his head. you continue, “but we’re not even friends anymore, are we?” “don’t say that.” “why not? it’s true, isn’t it? friends don’t do what we do,” you wipe at your face, even though the tears won’t stop fucking falling. he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, pressing it against the inside of his cheek like he’s trying to hold something back. but then he just shrugs again, voice flat. “guess we’re not fucking friends either, then.”

your vision blurs as you cry, no matter how hard you try to keep it together. “get the fuck out, subong.” your voice breaks on the last word, and you hate how fucking weak you sound, how pathetic. and the second the first real sob rips out of your throat, something in him shifts. “fuck. no, i—” he exhales, raking a hand through his hair, his voice softer now, like he’s realizing he went too far. “i didn’t mean it. i’m sorry—i’m sorry, baby.” “don’t fucking call me that!” “you gotta listen to me!” you shake your head, taking a step back, your whole body trembling. “no. i’m done listening to your fucking bullshit.” “baby, please.” his voice cracks, and his hands reach for you—hesitant, like he doesn’t know if you’ll let him touch you. “please.” you slap them away instantly. “don’t fucking touch me.” “you’re really just gonna shut me out like this?!” “you shut me out first!” “i fucking care about you!” “not enough!” his breath catches in his throat, and for a second, he just stares at you. “you’re being fucking dramatic.” “get the fuck out of my house, subong.” “why are you being such a fucking—” “say it.” your voice is a challenge, daring him to go there. he doesn’t hesitate. “bitch. a fucking bitch. you—you’re acting like a bitch.”

you’ve had enough. without thinking, you shove him—hard. he stumbles back a step, caught off guard, but you don't stop. you shove him again, your palms flat against his chest. “you’re a fucking asshole! fuck you! get out! get the fuck out!” his jaw tightens, like he wants to argue, like he wants to throw something else back at you, but you're already stepping forward again, grabbing his arm and shoving him toward the front door. subong wrenches his arm away, but you don't let it stop you. you push him again, shoving him past the threshold. but he’s not moving, so you grab the nearest thing—his damn sneakers—and chuck them at him, one after the other. the first one bounces off his chest, the second one catches him square in the shoulder. “what the fuck, man?!” subong barks, flinching back, his face twisting in irritation. he barely catches the second shoe before it can hit the ground. “you’re a crazy bitch!”

“fuck off!” your voice cracks again, but you don’t care. you’re already stepping forward, already reaching for the door—and you slam it in his face. the sound echoing through the room. for a moment, silence. a long, awful pause where your breath hitches, where your chest tightens so much it feels like you’re suffocating. then—“open the door. c’mon, open—open the fucking door!” he slams his fist against the wood. “stop being so fucking childish!” “you’re calling me childish?! grow up, subong! you’re twenty six, you don’t know what you want and you still dress like a fucking kid!” he bangs the door. “you’re one to talk, girl! always dressed like a damn slut!”

you squeeze your eyes shut and stumble to your room until your knees hit the bed, and then you’re collapsing onto it. the first sob breaks out of you before you can stop it, and then another, and another. you curl into yourself, pulling the blanket over your head, pressing your hands against your ears. but it doesn’t block him out. “fucking talk to me!” another bang. you hear the doorknob rattle. “baby, please! i’m sorry, okay?! c’mon, don’t do this! we’re fucking friends!” your voice is muffled when it finally comes, thick with tears, but loud enough for him to hear you. “go away!” “not fucking happening! open the damn door!” “go away or i’m calling the fucking cops, motherfucker!” that seems to work. you curl tighter, press your face into the pillow, and sob until the sound of his fists against the door fades away. he did this. he made you feel this way. and he fucking hates himself for it. but it’s too late.

the next few days are absolute shit. you barely leave your bed at first. your body feels too heavy, your chest too tight, your eyes too sore from crying. when you do finally move, it’s only to go through the motions—brushing your teeth, pulling on the same oversized hoodie, forcing down a few bites of food even when everything tastes like nothing, and going to work. you don’t check your phone at first. you can’t. but eventually, the screen lights up, and you don’t have to look to know who it is. subong. you let it ring. he calls again. and again. when it finally stops, the texts start.

pick up the fucking phone

cmon baby please

i fucking miss u

don’t do this shit to me

u make me so fucking angry

bro istfg

please

you turn the phone face down. but he doesn’t stop. every time you glance at your screen, his name is there.

i know u r reading these

don’t fucking ignore me bro

at least tell me u r okay

minsu asked why u didn’t come with us today

just fucking answer

is it that hard?

years and years of friendship man and u throw it all away like that?

u r fucking selfish

i hope u know that

the texts keep coming. always at random times. but the worst ones come at night. one day, at 4:12 a.m., your phone buzzes against your nightstand. you try to ignore it, try to pretend you’re asleep, but something tells you to look.

im highhg as fuvckk bro

look whatu vdone to me

fukcing bittvhhh

its urA fault

i mis uu

u r myybhaby❤️❤️❤️❤️

its fucking 4am. i wake up at 6 to go to work, stfu and leave me alone

can i cone over? plewaasse

answer bitchj

fuck you, subong. i don’t want to see you again

come bsck

i loveyouy

you block him, roll over, and squeeze your eyes shut. but sleep doesn’t come easy. not when the last words he sent are still glowing behind your eyelids, burning into your brain.

blocking him should have brought peace. should have been the final step, the clean break. but it doesn’t feel like that. instead, it feels like holding your breath underwater, waiting to resurface, except there’s no hand to pull you up this time. the first few days, you keep checking your phone out of habit. unlocking it without thinking. but there’s nothing. you still reach for him in small ways—almost texting him when something funny happens, almost turning to tell him about your day. but you can’t do that. you won’t do that. so you keep yourself busy. you pick up a book, let your eyes scan the words without really absorbing them. go on long walks, let the cold air bite at your skin, hoping it shocks you out of your thoughts. start journaling, writing down everything except his name, except the way your chest still feels hollow. you even try new things—take a yoga class with a friend, bake cookies at 2 a.m., cut your hair just to feel something different. but memories of him are stitched into the fabric of your life.

you hear his voice on the radio sometimes now, when they play a song of his that went viral. see him in the reflection of dark car windows, like he’s just a step behind you. hear a joke and immediately think about how he’d laugh, head thrown back, eyes crinkling at the edges. you tell yourself that eventually, you’ll forget. but some nights, you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he’s staring at his too. if he’s thinking about you. and the ache doesn’t go away.

your phone rings one night, when you’re already in bed. you almost don’t answer, but when you see semi’s name flash across the screen, you pick up. “hello?” your voice is groggy, tired. “hey,” semi says. “sorry, did i wake you?” “no,” you lie. “what’s up?” there’s a pause. hesitation. then, “it’s subong.” your stomach drops. “we’re worried about him.” she rushes the words out, like she’s been holding them in for too long. “he’s been acting weird lately—worse than usual.” you close your eyes, already knowing where this is going. already knowing what she’s about to say before she even says it. “he’s been taking those pills,” she continues. “the ones he used to mess with sometimes, but now he’s on them all the time. it’s like he’s not even—shit. he was out,” she says, frantic. “namgyu couldn’t wake him up at first, it was fucking bad, dude. and now he’s still high as hell, barely making sense, and he keeps—” she hesitates. you frown. “he keeps what?” “he keeps mumbling your name.” you feel like you’ve been punched in the chest. you press your fingers to your temple, trying to stop the pounding in your head. “fuck.” “he’s not okay,” she says. “he’s barely sleeping, barely eating. he looks like shit. well, he always does, but you know what i mean. and when he does talk, it’s like he’s—like he’s not there.”

you take a shaky breath. you shouldn’t care. you don’t care. he’s not your problem anymore. but your stomach still twists at the thought of him like that. “maybe you could talk to him?” semi says, hopeful. “when he feels better. i think he’d listen to you. gyeongsu is gonna take us to the hospital in a few minutes, maybe you could come too? we’ll pick you up. we’re at namgyu’s apartment, we had to take him—” “we’re not friends anymore, semi,” you cut off, swallowing down the lump in your throat. silence. “what?” she says. “what do you mean?” “he hasn’t told you?” “told us what?” “it doesn’t matter,” you say finally, letting out a heavy sigh. “i can’t help him.” “but—” “i can’t, semi.” the words come out sharper than you mean them to. she falls quiet. after a long moment, she sighs. “alright, okay,” she says, voice heavy with disappointment. “i just… i didn’t know.”

and even though you tell yourself it’s not your problem, even though you tell yourself you did the right thing—you don’t sleep that night. maybe you’re the most horrible person ever. for not helping him. that’s what you think to yourself as the days go by. you don’t go to see him. you don’t text semi back. you tell yourself that there’s nothing you could have done, that he made his choices, that you’re not responsible for saving him. but the guilt sticks to your ribs.

you keep moving forward. and then, somewhere along the way, you meet him. he’s nothing like subong. not really. but sometimes, in the way he leans back in his chair, in the way he runs his fingers through his hair, in the way he laughs when he’s had one too many drinks—he almost is. (he even likes rap!) and maybe that’s why you let him take you out. why you let him kiss you. why you let him press his hands against your skin and pretend it feels right. it doesn’t. but you let it happen anyway. because it’s easier. because when you close your eyes, you can almost pretend it’s subong. it’s fucked up. you know it’s fucked up. but you tell yourself it’s fine. that it doesn’t matter. that this is what moving on is supposed to look like. but it’s not fair. you know you shouldn’t be doing this. and when he asks what’s wrong, why you get quiet sometimes, why you look at him like you’re seeing someone else—you just smile. shake your head. press a kiss to his lips and hope he never realizes that you don’t mean it. hope he never realizes that no matter how hard you try—subong is still the only one you see.

he invites you to a show one night, says it’ll be fun. you don’t really know much about it—just that it’s some rap battle tournament called ‘rap battlegrounds’—but you’re bored, and it’s something to do. you don’t ask too many questions because, honestly, you don’t care that much. he picks you up, and you follow him through the neon-lit streets to a club you’ve never seen before, the bass already thumping from inside. he leads you through the crowd to a small corner of the club. it’s dark, gritty, with exposed brick walls and dim, flickering lights that barely cut through the haze of smoke hanging in the air. the floor is sticky. it’s the kind of place you usually avoid, but tonight, you let it slide.

you're barely paying attention, your eyes drifting over the crowd, the noise just background filler. the battles blur together, the hype not really doing anything for you. you're zoning out, tapping your foot to the rhythm of the beat, hoping this night will pass quickly—regretting all your life choices when he wraps his arm around your shoulders. when suddenly, a voice crackles through the mic, cutting through the noise. “yo, yo, yo, we got a real one up next! fresh off that new heat, straight killin’ the game—make some noise for ‘thanos’!” you freeze, snapping your head to the stage as the crowd cheers. “…and he’s goin’ up against the beast, the local legend, the one and only jace ‘the hammer!’”

there’s no way. you blink, trying to process it, but everything’s too dark, shadows everywhere, making you second-guess yourself. but then, you hear it—his voice. your stomach sinks. this is real. subong is here. for a second, you think you might pass out. he’s standing there, center stage, all cocky confidence, rapping like he owns the room. you wish you could ignore it, wish you could pretend he’s just another guy on stage, but he isn’t. and you can’t. and then it happens. his eyes sweep across the crowd, like he’s eating up the attention, and then they land on you. he freezes. just for a second—just long enough for his flow to falter, the words dying on his tongue. the beat keeps going, but he doesn’t, and the guy he’s battling jumps in, taking advantage of the opening. subong blinks, shakes his head, tries to recover—but it’s too late. he’s lost the rhythm, lost the momentum, and the battle ends with subong’s opponent eating up the win. the crowd erupts, but subong doesn’t hear any of it. he stands there for a second, chest rising and falling like he can’t believe it—like he can’t believe he actually lost. then, without another word, he shoves the mic into someone’s hand and disappears behind the stage.

someone else takes the spotlight almost immediately, the next rappers stepping up, music booming through the speakers again. you turn to the guy beside you, grabbing his wrist. “i wanna leave.” he frowns. “what? why?” you glance toward the side of the stage, your stomach twisting. subong won’t just leave it alone—you know him. “i’m just—i’m kinda tired.” the nervousness in your voice alarms him. “are you okay? what’s wrong?” “nothing. i just don’t wanna be here right now.” he studies you, and you can tell the exact moment he realizes how tense you are, how your shoulders are stiff, how you haven’t stopped glancing over your shoulder. his expression softens, just a little. “hey,” he says, voice quieter now. “it’s okay. i’ll take you home.” “yeah?” “of course.” you don’t move when he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. and it feels like… nothing. just lips on lips, a fleeting warmth that barely registers. your chest feels tight, like you need to shake something off, drown something out. so you kiss him back, harder this time, pressing in, searching for something. maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s the way seeing subong on that stage messed with your head, knocked you off center. maybe you just want to prove to yourself that you can feel that rush with someone else. but you don’t. no matter how deep the kiss goes, no matter how much you try to lose yourself in it, there’s nothing there.

and just a second later, he’s ripped away from you—shoved back so hard he stumbles, nearly knocking into the bar behind him. and when you look up, you already know. subong stands there, shoulders tense, and his eyes locked on you. “what the fuck are you doing?!” “me?! what the fuck are you doing, subong?!” the guy composes himself and goes back next to you with a strained expression, one of his hands caressing his side. “what’s your problem, man?!” “who the fuck is this?” subong demands, his eyes never leaving yours. you exhale sharply. “just leave me alone.” disbelief flashes across his face like you’ve just insulted him. “nah, what the fuck is this?” he gestures vaguely between you and the guy. “this who you’re with now?” the guy straightens up. “is there a problem?” subong laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “yeah, there’s a fucking problem. who the fuck are you?” “just go, subong.” you cut in quickly. “no. i’m not fucking leaving.”

the guy beside you steps in, placing himself between you and subong. “you know this asshole?” he asks you. you sigh, “he’s… we used to be friends,” you reply. “yeah, and i’ve probably fucked her more times than you have, bro,” subong adds, a smirk on his face. “don’t listen to him,” you tell the guy before redirecting your attention to subong. “you’re being more than ridiculous right now. stop it. leave us alone.” he just stares, like he didn’t even hear you. like you didn’t just tell him to fuck off. “ridiculous?” he repeats, like the word itself it’s funny to him. “you wanna know what’s fucking ridiculous? you showing up here with—” he finally looks at the guy, eyes dragging over him like he’s barely worth acknowledging “—this.” “enough! i said… leave us alone.” “no, we need need to talk.” “she told you to leave, man.” the guy interrupts. wrong move. subong’s lips curl into something mean. “and who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” he sizes him up, scoffing. the guy doesn’t back down. he squares his shoulders, keeping himself between you and subong like he actually thinks that’ll stop him. subong steps closer, just enough to invade his space. you step forward, grabbing the guy’s arm. “seriously, let’s just go—”

subong’s hand shoots out, grabbing his collar. the guy shoves him back instantly, and that’s all it takes. subong’s always been quick to anger, and now he’s pissed. “relax,” the guy says, lifting his hands like he’s trying to de-escalate, but subong’s past that. “relax? you want me to relax when you’re out here kissing my girl?” the guy exhales through his nose. “you wanna fight me over her that bad?” he shakes his head. “man, you already lost once tonight.” subong’s expression shifts in an instant. his shoulders go tense, his nostrils flare, and his jaw locks so tight you swear you can hear his teeth grind. he snaps, swinging first. it’s fast, a punch aimed straight for the guy’s jaw, but he dodges, stepping back just in time. the guy doesn’t waste time. he drives forward, ramming his shoulder into subong’s chest, sending him stumbling back. for a second, you think it might end there—but of course, it doesn’t. subong recovers quick, too quick. he surges forward, grabbing the guy’s shirt and yanking him down just to throw a knee into his ribs. the guy grunts, shoving him off, and then they’re both swinging. fists connect, curses fly, and you can barely keep up. the guy tries to hold his own, landing a few hits, but subong barely flinches. he’s fueled by something else, and he’s not stopping. one punch lands hard against the guy’s cheek, snapping his head to the side. another follows, a brutal hit to his jaw that makes him stumble. then another. and another. the guy grunts, arms coming up to shield himself, but subong doesn’t let up. he grabs the front of his shirt, yanking him forward just to slam his fist into his face again.

blood splatters. and that’s when you snap out of it. “subong, stop!” he doesn’t hear you. “subong!” he pulls back for another hit, and you move before you even think. you grab him by his shirt, using all your strength to shove him back. he stumbles, losing his grip on the guy, his eyes wild when they snap to yours. “what the fuck is wrong with you?!” you scream, chest heaving. subong’s nostrils flare, hands still clenched into fists like he’s seconds away from going back for more. the guy groans, wiping blood from his face. “you broke my fucking nose, man! you’re insane!” he yells. “shut the fuck up,” subong spits, but before he can go at him again, you shove him harder. “leave him alone!” his breathing is heavy, his eyes dark, burning into yours. for a second, you think he might listen, that the fight might finally be over. but then, in one swift movement, he grabs your wrist. “what are you—” you barely get the words out before he pulls you with him, dragging you through the crowd, past the stage. “let go of me!” you struggle against his grip, but he doesn’t stop. people turn to look, but no one moves to intervene. they just watch. before you know it, you’re backstage, away from the lights, away from the eyes—trapped in a space that feels too small.

subong finally stops, shoving you back against the wall. you barely have a second to catch your breath before you’re shoving him off. “what the fuck is wrong with you?! what the fuck was all of that about?! huh?!” you slam your hands against his chest, but he barely moves. his jaw clenches, and when he speaks, his voice is rough. “what the fuck is wrong with me?! you’re really asking me that?! when you’re the one out there acting like a desperate fucking slut?!” your head jerks back, a bitter laugh ripping from your throat. “are you fucking serious right now?! you just beat the shit out of him, and you’re mad at me?! for what?! for moving the fuck on?!” “yeah, i fucking am!” he snaps. before you can react, he steps in, closing the space between you in an instant. his hands come up, slamming against the wall on either side of your head. your whole body tenses. he’s seething, breath ragged and reeking of cheap liquor and god knows what else. “why?!” “because you’re mine!” “yours?! fuck off!” you shove at him again, hard. “and take a goddamn shower while you’re at it. you smell like a fucking alleyway.”

his nostrils flare. “yeah? well, you smell like a cheap whore.” rage flares hot in your chest. “right, because you’d fucking know, wouldn’t you?” you sneer. his head tilts, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “at least i don’t pretend to have fucking standards. what’s his name, huh?” your stomach turns, but you don’t let it show. instead, you smile. “why? you jealous? go cry about it, asshole.” he leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. “you know he’s just using you, right? you’re nothing but a warm hole to him.” your hand flies up before you can think better of it, shoving his face away. “yeah. like that wasn’t exactly what i was to you too, motherfucker.” he stumbles back a step, running a hand over his jaw. “we never talked about what the fuck we wanted, or what we expected from each other. so don’t—don’t—” “that’s what you tell yourself? that you didn’t lead me on? that you didn’t fuck with my head for months?!” you cut him off. “you’re a fucking coward, subong. too fucking scared to admit you wanted me, but the second i move on, suddenly you give a shit?” “move on? to who? that fucking loser? you think he actually gives a shit about you?” “and you do?” “you can’t just act like we never fucking happened!” “we didn’t happen, that’s the thing!” you shoot back. “you didn’t want to be with me like that,” your voice wavers, but you force yourself to hold your ground. “so you don’t get to fucking act like this. you don’t get to be jealous, you don’t get to start fights over me, and you sure as hell don’t get to drag me back here like you own me.”

his throat bobs as he swallows. he looks away for a second, like if he doesn’t meet your eyes, this won’t sting as much. like he can pretend this isn’t hitting him the way it is. his fingers twitch at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching like he’s trying to hold onto something—maybe the last shred of whatever this used to be. his breath comes sharp through his nose, the kind that’s meant to steady him but doesn’t do a damn thing. “i didn’t mean it like that,” he mutters, voice rough around the edges. “i don’t—i don’t own you.” but there’s something bitter in the way he says it, like he hates that it’s true. like he hates that he ever let it get to this point. you’re not his anymore. you never were, really. “then stop acting like it! don’t try to ruin everything just because you can’t handle the fact that i moved the fuck on!” for a second, he doesn’t say anything. his eyes flick over your face, tongue running over his teeth like he’s trying to stop himself from saying something worse. but then— “if you had, you wouldn’t have let that motherfucker shove his tongue down your throat right in front of me.” you scoff. “you think i did that on purpose?” he steps in, too close, and you instinctively take a step back. “fuck yeah, you did. you wanted me to see it. you wanted to fucking piss me off.” “you piss yourself off, subong! newsflash! not everything is about you! get over yourself.” “get over myself? you made me look like a fucking idiot out there!” “what the fuck are you talking about?” his eyes flash. “you made me lose the fucking battle, man!” you blink, caught off guard for half a second, then roll your eyes. “first of all, i’m not a man. second of all, don’t blame that shit on me.” “right. it’s never your fucking fault, huh?” he shakes his head. “you just get to do whatever the fuck you want and act like it doesn’t affect me.” you throw your hands up. “if you weren’t such a fucking asshole, maybe this wouldn’t have happened!” “yeah?!” “yeah!”

and then there’s silence. thick, heavy silence. his breathing is still ragged, his hands still curled into fists at his sides. your heart is pounding, your own fists clenched just as tight. then subong scoffs, shaking his head. “you’re so fucking full of shit.” “excuse me?” “you wanna talk about me being an asshole when you’ve been ignoring me for months? like i didn’t fucking exist.” the pain in his voice is evident and it catches you off guard. “i wasn’t—i didn’t ignore you. i was trying to heal. you’re seriously throwing that in my face right now?” “yeah, i am. don’t act like you’re the only one who got hurt.” “don’t do that.” “do what? tell the truth? you fucking blocked me, girl!” “no! don’t—don’t twist shit around just to make yourself feel better,” you snap. “you know exactly why i did it. don’t act like you’re the fucking victim.” “who is it then? you?” he scoffs. “oh, eat shit, subong! you never fucking came to see me!” you throw your arms out, exasperated. “not once! you could’ve fixed this, but you didn’t.” his jaw clenches, but he doesn’t look away. “you think i didn’t want to?” “i don’t know what the fuck you wanted!” your voice cracks, but you don’t care. “i called! and texted you every single fucking day!” “and you think that’s enough?! after everything?!” "i almost fucking overdosed!" he yells. "i was at my fucking lowest, and you—" he lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "you weren't there." you shake your head, anger bubbling in your chest. "don't put that on me, subong. you did that to yourself," you snap, voice sharp. "don't fucking guilt trip me with that." "are you serious?" “what do you want me to say? did you expect me to just forget everything and come back to you like nothing happened? you promised me—how many times?—that you weren’t gonna do that shit anymore, and here we are! and not only are you trying to make me feel like a fucking piece of shit for it, but you’re also acting like this—all of this—is my fault? when you were the one who decided i wasn’t good enough to be anything more than a fuck buddy?”

his expression falters—just a flash of something almost guilty—but then he scoffs, masking it with anger. “you’re really trying to act like you didn’t fucking replace me the second i was gone?” “replace you?” you repeat, incredulous. “you can’t be serious right now. i wasn’t the one fucking other people when we were…. whatever we were!” he freezes, his face draining of color for a split second. “don’t bring that shit up.” “oh, I’ll bring it up, alright. because you can’t say that shit to me when you were too busy screwing around while i was waiting for you to call me your fucking girlfriend.” he opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, a group of people walk past, glancing over at the scene. a couple of them whisper, eyes flicking nervously from you to subong. his face hardens, irritation flashing across his features, and without warning, he grabs your wrist. “what the fuck are you looking at?” he snaps at them. the group quickly averts their gazes, pretending they weren’t just watching him. he yanks you away and you struggle for a moment, trying to free yourself from his grip, but he doesn’t let go. you’re too caught up in the heat of the moment to really think about where he’s taking you. before you know it, you’re being shoved through a door into a dimly lit room backstage, the door slamming shut behind him with a force that echoes in the silence. the room is small, cluttered with his belongings—bags, jackets, and scattered items. a mirror with round vanity lights casts a dull glow over the space, reflecting the mess on the counter: a half-empty water bottle, energy drink cans, his vape, a lighter, a bunch of candy wrappers and a few crumpled papers.

“you need to stop doing that!” you snap. “dragging me around like i’m—i don’t know—like i’m some puppet!” he ignores your words. “listen,” he says, “i tried to make it right, okay? i did.” “calling me? texting me?” you scoff, disbelief laced in your voice. “that’s what you think making it right looks like? all you ever did was send bullshit messages—half insults, half nothing at all.” you shake your head. “if you actually meant it, you would’ve come to me. you know where i live, where i work—you had every chance to show up, to prove that you actually gave a damn. but you didn’t.” his voice shakes now. “i thought… i thought you didn’t fucking need me anymore! i thought you’d be better off without me!” “better off without you?! that’s the dumbest excuse i’ve ever heard!” before you can stop yourself, you shove him, hard enough that he stumbles back a step. “you were my fucking best friend, you idiot!” your voice cracks as a tear rolls down your cheek, and you have to look away. “and i…” the words tangle in your throat. you swallow hard, forcing them out. “i fucking loved you.”

the words hit him like a fist to the gut. he swallows, his throat suddenly dry. because he knows. he knows exactly how that feels. he’s loved you too—probably longer than he even realized. but he’s never said it. not properly. not in a way that mattered anyway. and now? now it sounds like it’s too fucking late. “loved,” he repeats. “past tense?” you don’t answer. “you don’t—you don’t love me anymore?” the words slip out before he can stop them, and he hates how pathetic they sound, how fucking vulnerable they make him. “subong i—i’m sorry, i can’t… i can’t do this,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. “answer me,” he presses, stepping closer, his pulse thundering in his ears. “please.” “i’m not talking about this,” you say firmly, reaching for the door. but he moves faster, pressing his hand against it, keeping you trapped in the small room with him. you squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling sharply. “i don’t want to see you again, subong.” “i do.” “well, i don’t.” “why not?” “because it fucking hurts!” the words barely leave your lips before the weight of everything crashes down on you all at once. “it… it hurts.” your throat burns, and suddenly, you can’t hold it back anymore. a choked sob rips through you, and before you can stop yourself, you’re crying.

subong’s eyes widen for half a second, like he doesn’t know what to do with the sight of you breaking down in front of him. but then, without hesitation, he reaches for you. “i know,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “i know, baby.” the warmth of him, the familiarity, the way he holds you…it all feels too fucking good. too safe. too much like home. you sob into his shirt, fists clutching at the fabric, body shaking as months’ worth of pain and anger pour out of you. he holds you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other resting firm against your waist. “i’m sorry,” he breathes.

you suck in a sharp breath, realization slamming into you. and just like that, the warmth turns suffocating. “no,” you whisper, pushing against his chest. he stiffens. “what—” “get off me.” he hesitates, grip loosening slightly, but you shove harder, forcing space between you. “fuck, subong, what the hell am i doing?” he looks at you, confused, almost dazed, like he doesn’t understand why you’re suddenly pulling away. “baby—” “don’t call me that,” you cut him off. “i can’t—i can’t do this with you.” his jaw tightens. “you don’t mean that. you know you don’t.” “i do! because you fucking broke me!” you yell, hands trembling. “and i hate that you still make me feel like this!” you pause, trying to catch your breath, wiping at your face furiously. you hate the way the tears cling to your skin. you hate even more that he’s standing there, watching you cry. you force yourself to steady your voice. “i’m leaving.” “no, you’re not.” he’s there—blocking the door. you let out a frustrated breath, shoving at him again, but he doesn’t move an inch. “subong, move.” nothing. he doesn’t even blink. “is he your boyfriend?” the question throws you off balance. your brows furrow, and for a moment, the anger is eclipsed by confusion. “what?” “that guy. is he your boyfriend?” you exhale sharply, shaking your head as you glare at him. “jesus christ, subong, really?” “is he?” “it’s none of your business,” the words are clipped, laced with venom. his eyes darken. “none of my—?” he drags a hand through his hair, like he’s barely keeping himself together. for a second, it looks like he might actually lose it. “seriously? you can’t even say no?” “why does it matter?!” you snap. “it fucking matters to me!” your heart pounds. you don’t know why it’s so hard to answer, why the words feel like they’re lodged in your throat. his patience wears thin. “fucking hell, just—” “no!” you cut him off. “he’s not my boyfriend, okay?!” you shake your head. “did you fuck him?” “are you serious right now?” “answer the fucking question,” he demands, stepping closer. you scoff, shaking your head. “you’re actually insane.” “fucking answer!” “yes!” the word rips out of you before you can stop it. “yeah, i did. happy now?”

for a moment, he doesn’t react. he just stares at you, like the air has been knocked from his lungs. his jaw clenches, his nostrils flare. but nothing can stop the thought from sinking its claws into him—someone else touching you, having you, getting what he let slip through his fingers. it makes him sick. and it’s his own damn fault. he knows he has no right to be angry. no right to feel this way. but the jealousy curdles in his stomach, and before he can stop himself, the words tear from his mouth like a whip. “you’re a fucking whore.” the second he says it, he hates himself for it. but he doesn’t take it back. your fury is instant, white-hot.“fuck you! don’t call me that!” “i’ll call you whatever the fuck i want!” he snaps. he needs to hurt you, to make you feel even a fraction of what he’s feeling. “you really don’t see how fucking pathetic that is? spreading your legs for some guy who doesn’t even matter?” the words taste like acid in his mouth, but he spits them out anyway. he doesn’t know how else to deal with the anger, the self-hatred he feels. it’s easier to take it out on you than to admit the truth—that he ruined everything, that he’s the reason you were with someone else.

your vision goes red. before you can think, before you can stop yourself, your hand swings up and smacks across his face. his head jerks to the side from the impact, and for a moment, everything is dead silent except for the sharp sound of your ragged breathing. then, slowly, he turns back to you, his jaw tightening, his tongue running over the inside of his cheek like he’s tasting the sting of your palm. “did you just hit me?” his voice is low. oh, he’s angry. “yeah, i fucking did,” you say, your hands trembling. “because you’re a fucking piece of shit!” “you’ve got some fucking nerve!” he seethes, shoving your forehead with two of his fingers, forcing your head back slightly. you slap his hand away, your own anger doubling at the touch. “do that again, and i’ll break your fucking fingers, motherfucker,” you warn. “you just slapped me!” “and you called me a whore twice, subong! i wonder how the fuck i was ever friends with you! you’re a hypocrite!” he steps closer, jabbing a finger in your face. “don’t fucking talk to me like that!” “and i told you many times not to fucking point your finger at me!” you yell, shoving his hand away harder this time. so hard his arm jerks back. “who the fuck do you think you are?! you can’t fucking judge me when you’re the one who—”

his patience snaps. he grabs a nearby chair and hurls it at the wall. it hits with a loud crack, rattling from the impact before toppling over. you flinch, but you don't back down. “real fucking mature.” “you don’t fucking get it.” “why do you even care, huh? you have plenty of other girls to fuck, don’t you?” you spit. “so why the fuck does it matter who i’m with? why is it a problem when you do the exact same shit?” he doesn’t say anything. fine. you’re done here. you reach for the door again, shoving past him. “i’m leaving—” “i lied.” his voice stops you cold. slowly, you turn back, brows furrowing. “what?” he swallows hard. “i lied about it. there was never another girl.” you stare at him in disbelief. “i just—i said that shit to piss you off. to make you hate me. but i never—” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “i never touched anyone else when i was with you.”

your mind spins, struggling to piece together what he’s saying. he’s lying again. he has to be. “you expect me to believe that?” your voice is defensive. “i don’t give a fuck if you believe me,” he snaps back. “it’s the truth.” your throat tightens. there’s something in his eyes, something desperate, something you’re not used to seeing. “why?” he hesitates. his lips part, then press into a thin line. “because i—” he exhales sharply, looking away for a moment before forcing himself to look at you again. “because i love you. i’ve—” “don’t fucking lie to me, subong.” frustration flashes across his face. “i’m not lying, okay?! i’ve—” “sure as hell you aren’t.” “jesus—can i fucking talk?!” you huff, arms crossing tightly over your chest. your jaw aches from how hard you’re clenching it. but you don’t interrupt again. you let him speak. “i’ve loved you for so fucking long, and it scared the shit out of me. you were my best friend and i didn’t—i didn’t know how to do it. how to be with you without fucking it all up.” you shake your head, gripping your arms tighter. “you can’t just say this shit and think it fixes everything,” you whisper, voice trembling. “you loved me, and you never told me. you preferred this… this shit between us rather than just… being fucking honest. you—” your breath shudders and you stop to breathe for a moment. “you’re confusing me, subong.”

he sighs. you can see it in his eyes—the regret, the pain, the anger at himself. then, he steps closer. his hands find your face, fingers gentle as they cup your cheeks. his thumbs move carefully, wiping away the tears you hadn’t even realized were still falling. his touch is soft—so fucking soft it almost breaks you. you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing against the lump in your throat. you shouldn’t let him do this. shouldn’t let him hold you like this, shouldn’t let yourself sink into the warmth of his hands. but you do. because it’s him. “i’m sorry, baby” he murmurs, his breath warm against your face. “fuck, i’m so sorry.” his voice is lower now, and when you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you—his brows furrowed. “i didn’t mean to hurt you,” he continues, his hands steady on your face. “i swear to god, i didn’t.” “but you did.” “i know,” he whispers. “i was a fucking idiot.” his thumbs still trace slow paths along your skin, like he’s trying to ground himself in the feel of you. you try to look away, but he won’t let you. his grip isn’t forceful, but it’s firm—just enough to keep you there. “i can’t stop thinking about you,” he says, his brows furrowing deeper, like it physically hurts him to admit it. “no matter what i do—it’s always you.” “don’t—” “it’s the truth,” he cuts in, his hands sliding down to your jaw, his fingers just barely brushing your neck. “i wake up thinking about you. i fall asleep thinking about you. every fucking song i write is about you. every stupid little thing reminds me of you.” you shake your head, blinking back tears. “stop it.” “i can’t,” he breathes. “i don’t know how.”

he leans in slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours. “tell me you don’t feel the same, and i’ll go.” your heart pounds so hard it hurts. he’s so close… and the way he’s looking at you, like he’s daring you to push him away, makes something snap inside you. before he can say another word, you grab his shirt and yank him down, crashing your lips against his. subong freezes for half a second, like he wasn’t expecting it, but then he groans into your mouth, his hands gripping at your waist as he kisses you back just as hard. he barely gives you a second to breathe before he’s backing you up, walking you straight into the wall. the impact makes a sharp gasp escape you, but he swallows it down, one hand threading into your hair, tilting your head back as his mouth moves against yours.

then it happens—your breath catches, and before you can stop it, a tear slips down your cheek. he stops. his lips hover just over yours, his chest rising and falling against you, and he pulls back just enough to look at you. “are you okay?” you don’t answer. instead, you pull him back in, your fingers curling around the back of his neck. you kiss him harder, and he lets you—lets you take what you need, lets you pour everything you can’t say into this. his fingers tangle in your hair, tugging just enough to pull your head back before pressing his forehead to yours. “tell me what’s wrong,” he murmurs, breath hot against your lips. in a broken whisper, you finally say it. “i need you.” he’s been waiting to hear that. for months, it’s been the only thing on his mind—you. every time he got high, every time he tried to flirt with someone else, every time he told himself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t matter. but it was all a lie. because you did. you always did. and now you’re here, in his arms, needing him. and he’s so fucking mad at himself for wasting all this time, for pushing you away, for pretending he didn’t want this when you’ve been the only thing he’s wanted.

that’s all it takes. he’s on you in an instant, his hands gripping your waist as his mouth crashes against yours. he walks with you, never breaking the kiss, his fingers pressing into your sides, guiding you until your legs bump against the edge of a small table. before you can steady yourself, his hands move to your hips, helping you up until you’re perched on top of it. his lips leave yours, dragging along your jaw and your neck. one hand slides up, fingers curving over your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt. the touch alone makes a soft moan slip past your lips. he swallows the sound with another kiss, deep and greedy, before tugging your shirt up, his palms skimming your skin as he pulls it over your head. his other hand moves with purpose, working the clasp of your bra. the second it falls away, his mouth is on you. you gasp when his tongue flicks over your nipple, your head falling back as pleasure shoots through you. “gonna make you feel good, baby,” he promises, his breath hot on your skin as he switches to your other breast, his teeth grazing your nipple just enough to make you squirm. his free hand slides down your stomach, unbuttoning your pants with practiced ease before slipping between your thighs. you spread them instinctively, your breath hitching when his fingers brush against the damp fabric of your panties. “you’re so wet for me already,” he says, pulling back to look at you, his eyes dark with hunger.

subong takes his time peeling your pants off, pressing soft kisses to your thighs, your knees, your ankles. once they’re gone, he hooks his fingers into your panties, dragging them down at the same agonizing pace, his lips following their path. he tosses them aside without a second thought. then he’s on his knees, hands spreading your thighs wider as the cool air hits your skin, making you shiver. “let me show you how sorry i am, yeah?” you nod slowly in response. subong leans in, his breath hot against you, and you bite your lip, anticipation coiling tight in your stomach. and then his tongue is on you, licking a long stripe up your center, parting your delicate folds, exploring your wetness. you gasp when it finds your clit, your hands flying to his purple hair as his tongue swirls around it in slow circles. “f-fuck, yeah, right there,” you whimper, and he hums against you in approval.

he focuses all his attention on it, flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub before sucking it gently into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing out as he applies gentle pressure. you feel one of his fingers slide inside you, then two, curling them upwards and hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back. his tongue never leaves your clit, licking and sucking in perfect rhythm with his fingers, and you can feel that familiar pressure building in your lower stomach. your hand travels to the side of his face, your thumb caressing his cheek as he works you. moans grow louder, your hips bucking involuntarily against his face. “subong—” you try to speak, but the words die in your throat—the pleasure too strong. he smirks, feeling you tightening around his fingers. “that’s it, baby” his voice is muffled against you. “cum for me.” and you do, your back arching, knuckles white from gripping the side of the table, a cry tearing from your throat as you fall apart. his mouth never stops, drawing every last wave of pleasure from you until you’re boneless, panting.

you try to catch your breath as he stands, pulling you into him, his mouth claiming yours again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. your fingers tremble slightly as they find the hem of his shirt, slipping beneath the fabric. he shudders under your touch, muscles tensing before he exhales, letting you lift the shirt over his head. it falls somewhere behind him as your hands roam his chest. this isn’t like before. like the other times you’ve had sex. there’s something different in the way his fingers brush your skin, in the way he watches you like he’s afraid to blink, afraid to miss a second of this. you reach for his waistband, tugging at it, and he lets you, his breathing uneven as he watches your hands work him free. his pants and boxers slip to the floor, and he steps out of them, never once breaking contact.

“do you… do you have a condom?” you ask quietly. he stills, his hands resting on your hips as he looks at you. his brows pull together slightly. “no,” he admits, then asks, “do you?” you shake your head. “no.” “shit,” he exhales, his forehead falling to your shoulder. you can tell he’s frustrated—not at you, but at the situation. “it’s… it’s okay. we don’t need one,” you add softly. his head snaps back up. “you sure?” he asks, and you nod. “i want to feel you.” your words are the confirmation he needs. he grabs your thighs before pulling you closer to the edge of the table, spreading them apart to find room between them. his raw tip presses against your clit and you take a deep breath when he starts grinding against you, his stiff dick sliding across your wet slit. you both moan at the feeling, but nothing compares to the gasp that escapes both of your lips the moment he slides inside of you.

he’s slow at first, letting you adjust to the feeling, his hands holding you in place as he sinks in deeper, stretching you around him. you try to steady yourself, holding onto the side of the table with one of your hands again. his breath is uneven, and each slow, measured thrust makes you ache for more. but then his pace shifts. his grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls back and thrusts in harder and faster. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the space between you, mixed with your breathless moans and his ragged groans. when you meet his gaze, his brows are furrowed, his lips parted. you can see it all written on his face: how much he’s wanted this, how long he’s been waiting, how badly he’s yearned for you. he looks like he’s barely holding himself together, like he’s afraid he won’t last because you feel too fucking good. “fuck,” he grits out, voice strained, his fingers flexing against your hips. “i missed you s-so fucking much…” his words cut off in a groan, his head dropping forward, forehead pressing to yours as he fucks you like he’s trying to make up for all the lost time. “i missed this… mmm… missed this pretty pussy of y-yours.” he drives into you harder, like he’s trying to claim you, like he’s trying to erase every trace of anyone else who’s ever touched you—muttering curses under his breath like he’s punishing himself as much as he’s fucking you. your nails scrape down his back, leaving red streaks in their wake, and he groans at the sting, at the way you cling to him. “fuck, baby—” he gasps, voice rough. “was he better than me? tell me,” he demands, his thrusts turning brutal, each one punctuating his words. “did he—did he fuck you like this? mmh? shit… did he make you cum like i-i do?” there’s anger in his voice. not at you—at himself. for waiting too long, for not telling you the truth when he had the chance, for letting someone else have you. you shake your head in response. his hand grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. “answer me.” “n-no!” you whimper “he… he didn’t, baby. only you—mmph!—only you make me f-feel this good.”

his grip on your chin tightens for a second before he releases you, his hand sliding down to wrap around your throat instead. not squeezing, just holding—just feeling you. his pace doesn’t slow, if anything, it gets rougher, like your answer wasn’t enough to satisfy the anger. “that’s right,” he grits out, sweat slicking his skin. “he could never…he could never fuck you like this.” his other hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise as he slams into you, making you cry out. you hold onto him, and he loves it—loves feeling you claim him the way he’s claiming you now. and fuck, he needs this, needs to remind himself that you’re here, wrapped around him—that you’re his. “look,” he mutters, commanding. “look how fucking g-good you’re taking me.” your breath hitches as your eyes drop, and fuck—seeing it is different. watching the way his dick disappears inside you, the way your body clenches around him, the way he’s completely buried in you, over and over again… “see that?” he pants. “you were made for me. this was fucking made for me.” his hand moves again, sliding between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, precise circles. “shit—subong!” you let out a broken moan. “y-yeah… fuck, yeah, just like that!” a whimper slips from your lips when subong fists your hair, tugging your head back up until your eyes meet his again. “say it,” he practically pleads. “say that you're mine.” “i-i'm yours!" you gasp, your voice shaking, your whole body trembling from the intensity of him. “i'm fucking yours…mmm… always been.” “i’m yours too, baby.”

his thrusts grow frantic and his breath comes in harsh, uneven bursts. all he can hear is the sound of his name falling from your lips in desperate, breathless moans. he swears he’s never heard something as beautiful. you can tell he is close, holding you in place as he leans over you, his forehead pressing against yours. your body tenses, your gummy walls clenching around him, his fingers still pressed on your clit as he pounds into you, making it impossible for you to hold back. your body tenses, and your free hand clings to the back of his neck with desperation as you kiss him, trying to muffle your whimpering. “gonna cum for me, b-baby?” he whispers, pulling away for a moment. “gonna—mmh! gonna cum on my cock?” you can’t even nod. his words are like a spark, and you can’t hold it back anymore. your body snaps, the pleasure flooding you. “subong!” you cry out, legs shaking. he watches you, his name on your lips, and the sight of you completely undone drives him to the edge. with a final, deep thrust, he follows you, quickly pulling out, his release spilling into your lower stomach. his face contorts, a strangled gasp escaping him as he rides out his own climax. he stays there for a moment, his body pressed against yours, both of you breathing heavily, sweat-slicked skin sticking together. “i love you,” you whisper, hands running through his messy hair. “i love you too, señorita,” he smirks, his hand cupping your cheek before leaning in to give you a small peck on the lips. “i missed you.”

subong is a good boyfriend. or at least he tries to be. he still messes up sometimes, still says things without thinking, still gets into fights he shouldn’t, but he’s trying. you see it in the way he waits for you after work, hands shoved into his pockets like he’s trying to play it cool, but you know he’s been standing there for a while. in the way he walks on the outside of the sidewalk, even though you never asked him to. you see it in the way he always grabs an extra drink when he stops by the convenience store, handing it to you without a word, like he just knew you’d want one. in the way he texts you did you eat? before he even says hello. in the way he always grumbles about carrying your bag when it looks too heavy, but takes it anyway. in the way he lets you steal his hoodies, rolling his eyes when you show up wearing one but never actually asking for it back. you see it in the way he lets you mess with his hair, even when he pretends to hate it. in the way he looks at you, like he still can’t believe you’re his. in the way he says your name, soft around the edges. in the way he tells you he loves you—not just with words, but in a hundred different ways, every single day.

there’s no confusion anymore. no second-guessing, no wondering where you stand with each other. he wants you, and he’s not afraid to say it. he tells you all the time, in every way he knows how. sometimes it’s casual, like when he looks at you in the middle of a conversation, something soft in his eyes, and says, “you know i love you, right?” like he just needs you to know. and then there are times when he’s shameless about it. like the time he made it his entire mission to embarrass you in front of both of your friends, throwing an arm around your shoulders and grinning as he declared, “isn’t my girlfriend the prettiest woman you’ve ever seen? no offense to you, semi.” there’s a beat of silence before half of them go “what?!” while the others just exchange knowing looks. “wait—dude, since when?!” namgyu asks. “oh, come on,” semi scoffs, rolling her eyes. “like we didn’t all see this coming.” subong just smirks, pulling you a little closer, dropping a kiss to your cheek. he’s here, and he’s yours, and he makes sure you know it.

you’re still best friends. you still laugh until your stomach hurts, still steal food off each other’s plates, still shove at each other like you’re kids. except now he kisses you after. or before. or sometimes instead of shoving you back. he’s still stubborn, still gets on your nerves more than anyone else. he’s not perfect, but he never pretends to be. and maybe that’s what makes it feel so easy. there’s nothing to prove, nothing to question. just the two of you, exactly as you are, exactly as you’ve always been. just you and him.

if you’ve read this far, i love you, let’s get married pookie ong

[harrysxcarolina]

sweet lil secrets

b. eilish; don't worry, i won't tell pt 2

pt. 1

warnings: wlw, soft!billie, top!billie, costars, no plot, cussing, smut, fem!reader, slight teasing, flirting, half proof read...

Quickly tying your hair up out of your face as you plop down in your hair and makeup chair glancing up in the mirror seeing yourself for the first time in the last couple hours. Definitely not expecting it to go the way it did. A small smile works its way across your cheeks. Your hair is disheveled and all over the place. Your cheeks are bright pink while your lips are slightly swollen from the scene you just encountered. Your heart is still slightly beating against your chest as your mind replays Billies soft whimpers. You can still feel the pressure of her against your burning skin. Softly tracing your skin with your fingertips as your bottom lip gets captured between your teeth. 

“Please keep touching me.” 

“You feel so fucking good baby.”

The soft knocking against the metal door pulls you out of your thoughts. Shaking your head as you quickly get up and go to open the door. Eyebrows furrowing as you take in the dark haired girl standing bashfully on the other side of the door. Her hands lay at her sides, her fingers gently tapping along her thigh as her hair gently blew in the warm breeze.

“Hi.” You say with a coy smirk. Looking up at you through her lashes she matches your small smile. Whispering a soft hello in return. The sun brightens the blue in her eyes as her cheeks heat up at your stare. Your tongue swipes across your lips as you invite her into your trailer.

“How ya feeling, Eilish?” You ask with a smirk as you plop back down into your chair crossing your legs as you hold your gaze on her. Slightly rocking back and forth on her heels as her hands dig deep into her sweatpants pockets. The sweats are barely hanging on her hips. Her shirt slightly bunched above her waistline showing off her porcelain skin and the tattoo that permanently lays along her lower torso. Her dark locks cascading down her back as her bangs fall her vision. 

Her bottom lip falls between her teeth as she tries desperately to fight back her bashful and slightly embarrassed smile. “Good. Uh-“ Her bottom lip captured between her teeth, eyes dropping down your body before working their way back up to yours, “really good.” She states as she kicks the tip of her shoe along the floor as she reaches up to run her fingers through her hair cheeks heating up at her confession. 

“Good, I’m glad.” You reply as a chuckle leaves your lips. Her fingers fumbling with the rings lining her hands. 

“So what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask motioning for her to take a seat. Taking a deep breath as she makes her way to the little loveseat across from you. Bouncing her leg anxiously as she nibbles on her bottom lip. Trying to find the words to explain what had happened only just moments before. 

“I just wanted to say that I was sorry and that it was very, actually extremely, unprofessional of me.” She states quickly as she clasps her hands together in her lap in hopes that it would seize the butterflies raging in her tummy. Her gaze avoids yours as she taps her foot. The soft taps echoing in the small trailer. The sunlight peeking through the window shining against her blue orbs. Her dark lashes make them brighter each time she blinks as she slowly brings her stare to yours.

“Don’t stress it.” You hum standing up and moving to sit next to her. “I guess it could happen sometimes.” You state with a shrug as her eyes follow you. You don’t miss the way her breath hitches as she notices the very little amount of space between the both of you once you sit down next to her. You can practically feel the heat radiating off her body as her cheeks turn a bright red. A small smirk plays on your lips as you lean a tad bit closer to her. The tension thick in the air as your shoulders barely brush, your free hand reaching up and tucking her loose bangs behind her ear. Her cheeks once again heat up at the intimate touch as the tip of her tongue glides across her lips. A soft chuckle leaves your lips.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone Billie-“ you whisper as your fingers brush gently across her cheek. Feeling her burning skin beneath your fingertips as she carefully leans into your touch. Her eyes closing as you trace your fingers down her jawline. The pause between you both lingering only for a moment before Billie felt the heat of your breath on her ear as your hands snaked their way around her waist. Slightly tugging her closer to your side. Your fingertips teasing her skin as you trace right above the waistline of her sweatpants. Her head falls back against your shoulders as you slowly slip the tip of your middle finger inside. Tracing her skin feeling the way her breath gets caught as you find the lace of her underwear. Her eyes clenching close as her hand grips the edge of the loveseat. 

Smirking against her neck, “I won’t tell anyone how you lost yourself over my thigh. How you begged me to keep touching you-“ your finger slips under her lace thong finding her clit as the tip of your tongue teased her earlobe. Her hands quickly grip your arm through her pants as her hips buck unintentionally. Holding your hand perfectly still as she fights her chest heaving up and down. Her breathing was harsh and loud in your ear. Her mouth dry as she feels her heart racing against her chest.

“What a beautiful whimpering mess you were Bils-" you whisper as you tilt your head to look down at her. Her body completely fell into you. Head drawn back with her red swollen lip between her teeth trying desperately to fight back the moans wanting to escape. Her dark hair fanning out across your shoulder as her head lays completely against you. The tint of her cheeks rosy and pink as her eyes fight to stay open. Your eyes trace every line, freckle, curve along her face leading you to her lips. god you wanted to kiss her so bad.  

“Tell me, who made you that wet Billie?” You question as you trail your lips along her neck. Your finger slowly but firmly circling her clit. Her hips fighting to buck against your fingers but your arm wrapped around her torso stops her movements, her grip on your wrist tightening as your teeth sink into her neck. Her moans sound like sweet melodies in your ears as your fingers slowly work themselves into her wet folds. Your fingers squeeze her hips as your smirk grows along her neck.

“Who made you such a whimpering mess?” You ask soft and sweet as you capture her earlobe between your teeth. “Holy fucking shit-“ she moans as your words seep into her burning skin. “You. You did. Please-“ Billie begs as she desperately tries to grind up against your fingers. Her free arm encloses around the back of your neck pulling you tighter against her body. Your head now deep in her neck leaving your mark all along her flush skin as her fingers tangle deep into your hair.  

Chuckling, “is that so sweet girl? Who would have thought?” You hum as your fingers tease her folds feeling her wetness seeping through your fingers. You couldn't stop your mind from going wild with all the ways you wanted to continue to make her whimper and moan more.

“Fuck Billie-“ you moan loudly. “You’re so fucking wet already.” Without thinking your hips rut up against her ass at the thought of you being the cause of her being this wet. The fact that you got her off during a scene and it was definitely not scripted was a shock in itself. 

Yeah you guys flirted and teased each other, but you didn’t think it would lead to this. Leading you to being the cause of her whimpering state. Billie had a naturally flirty personality. She unintentionally flirts with everyone. Always making people laugh and welcoming them into the group. It felt natural between the both of you. 

Billie couldn’t take it anymore. Removing you from her grip she quickly spins around, trapping you against the loveseat. Her hand firmly gripping the cushion next to your neck, the other tightly gripping your hip. Pinning you between her and the cushions. Your ragged breaths match as her icy orbs stare down at you. Her thigh sliding its way between yours firmly, pressing it against your aching core. Your eyes roll back as a soft moan leaves your lips, her grip on your hip tightens. Her hips bucking against yours as she lowers herself into your neck. 

“If you grind that pretty little pussy of yours against me again I can’t promise that I won’t fuck you senseless later.” Billie seethed against your neck as you felt her hot breath sliding across your skin leaving goosebumps in its trail. Her teeth graze your skin as she flexes her hips against yours. A deep moan leaves both of you. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.” She mumbles into your neck. "How long I've wanted to explore every inch of your body. All the long nights on set. All your teasing looks. God, you've been driving me mad." Her words drip down your skin like warm honey as your back arches into her touch.

Your hands reaching up and tangling themselves into her hair. Pulling her flush against your lips as your hips buck up grinding against her throbbing heat. Her hand grips your hips tighter as she works her hips against yours. Lips tangled together as your heads tilt deepening the kiss. Her hand working its way down your body feeling the way you’re reacting to her. Every breath, whimper, every shake and groan. All because of her now. She wanted to devour every inch of you. 

Pulling apart to catch your breath, your chest heaving up against hers. Her forehead lands on your shoulder as her fingers flirt with your waistline. “You were toying with me out there,” she grumbles against your shirt. “With your teasing tone. You soft touches. Your little whimpers.” She whines as she lays a wet kiss along your collarbone. Working her way across the collar of your shirt. Her teeth captured it tugging it signaling she wanted it off. Sitting up and quickly pulling it over your head and tossing it to the floor. Your hair falling down your back as she gently pushes you back down. Wasting no time tracing her lips across your cleavage that was being pushed up by your bra. Groaning against your skin as she leaves gentle love bites in her wake before working her way back up.

Her lips brushing against the shell of your ear as she lets her hot breath trickle down your skin. Causing a shiver to run down your spine. “Now it’s my turn to play with you.” She moans. Her hands snapping the waistline of your pants against your lower torso. Your head leaning back against the couch as you urge her to take them off arching up into her touch. Gliding the material down your thighs as her eyes follow in their trail. Lip stuck between her teeth as she watches you lift your hips sliding your underwear down shortly after.

Her hands dance their way back up your thighs as her gaze meets yours. Her stare is intimidating as you fight the moans desperately trying to escape your swollen lips. Her grin grows as her fingertips trace the outline of your core. Barely brushing against you leaving you begging for more. Her lips hot on your skin as she kisses her way down your body. Stopping briefly to show appreciation to each one of your breasts before she works her way down your torso. Teeth grazing every so often as she flicks her tongue across your skin. Moaning as the saltiness of your body. Her fingers continue their tease as she taps her fingers lower between your folds. Her moans send vibrations throughout your core as she slowly sinks the tip of her middle finger into your cunt. 

Grasping the baggy shirt dangling in the space between your bodies, your hips rut up into her touch. Mouth hanging open as her head hangs against your shoulder. Her breathing ragged as she feels you quivering under her touch. Her hips gliding across your thigh as she thrust her finger completely inside you. Brushing against your walls deliciously as you rotate your hips trying to spread the friction you were craving. Sliding your hands up under her shirt. Making quick work to unclasp her bra and grope her swaying breasts. Her moans loud and raspy in your ear as you squeeze and toy with her breasts. 

Flirting with her nipples as you twist and pull each one between your fingertips. Losing yourselves in the rhythm of your hips, your lips crashing together. Tongues grazing and teeth pulling each other's lips. Neither one of you is willing to forfeit the battle for dominance. Groaning in each other's mouths as Billie works another finger deep inside you. Twisting and rubbing against all your spots as her thumb works your clit. Grinding your hips harder against her fingers as your hand works its way deep into her locks. A deep raspy groan leaves her lips as you tilt her head up. Breaking up the kiss as you force her to look at you. Her eyes were wild and wide. Her cheeks are a deep red and her lips were a soft pink. Swollen and begging to be kissed as she looks down at you. Your harsh breathing matches as you lick your lips a smirk working its way across your cheeks. 

Her lips are mirroring yours as you softly whimper your request in her ear. Her eyes rolling back as she bucks her hips against yours. Sliding her fingers out and between her lips as she tastes you for the first time. Making sure to not miss a drop as she glides her tongue across and between her soaked fingers. Eyes locking with yours wearing an evil smirk noticing the way her eyes darken as she glides her hand up your torso. Feeling your warm skin beneath her fingertips as she works her hand to unclasp your bra. Removing your bra completely before gripping the hem of her own shirt and tossing it somewhere behind her. Your eyes grow wide as you watch her slowly slide her bra straps the rest of the way down her arms. Her breathing is soft and steady as she reminds you to keep your gaze. Demanding your attention as she slowly slides her sweatpants to the pile. Her fingertips hooking in her lace thong as she sways her hips, wiggling the material down her smooth skin. 

Your request is still on her mind as she slides down off the couch and between your thighs. Her hands gripping softly as she slowly aids them open. Leaning down and brushing her lips against your skin. Teasing you as she glances up at you through her lashes. Her tongue glides across her lips before scattering kisses along your inner thigh. Your back arching off the loveseat as your hands grasp your breast. Squeezing and pulling as you rut your hips up silently reminding her where you wanted her. Her grin grows as she continues taking her time kissing every inch she can reach. Her lips venture closer to where you need her; you feel her fingers squeeze your thigh. Flexing her hand as the cool metal of  her rings leaves a chill shooting down to your core. 

“Billie please!” You whimper and beg as you slouch further into the couch. Arching into her grasp as her lips make their way to your core. Your toes barely reach the floor as you feel her hot breath fanning across your drenched core. Her arms looping around your hips pulling her fuller off the edge. Her tongue peaking out between her swollen lips as it flicks gently across your aching bud. Your nerves were on fire. Every single touch had your body firing electricity from the tips of your toes to the tip of your nose. Her teasing flicks against your aching bud had your hips frantically and shamelessly grinding against her wet talented tongue. She gently squeezed your hip as she finally captured you between her teeth and sucked on you until you swore you saw stars. 

Panting as you aimlessly look for something to grab onto. Reaching one hand down and tangling it deep into her dark locks as you guide her mouth completely against you. Her groans fill the room as she sucks, licks, and nibbles at your core. Working her tongue and fingers perfectly against you as she slides two deep between your folds.

Hitting that sweet spongy spot deep inside you perfectly over and over again as her thrust get deeper and harder. Her tongue and lips sucking your clit as you moan out her name. Whimpering and moaning as you work your hips against her face. Her icy blue eyes staring up at you as her tongue sticks out. Slipping between your folds and swallowing every single last drop you were offering as she watched you get closer to your orgasm. 

Her lip between her teeth as her arm flexes and her grip on your thigh tightens. “Fuck, do you know how good you look right now.” Billie groans as she moves her free hand up your body. Taking her time as she runs it across every inch. Caressing your body as if you were made of glass. Her fingertips dance across your skin as they reach your under boob. Your breath catches. Her fingers continuing their sweet torture inside you as she curls them just right. Your hips rutting against her hand as your hands reach for her neck. Pulling her up and flush against you as her breast rubs up against yours. Breathing heavy in your ear as she quickens her thrust causing your fingers to dig into her skin. 

Your ears ringing as your legs clench around her digits. Her arm sliding up under your back and holding you tighter against her as her lips search for yours. Tangling together in a sweet kiss as you feel your body start to crumble under her. Your hands gently cupping her cheeks as she straddles your thigh. Her fingers never faulting as they cause the familiar tingles to start building deep in your belly. Moaning against her lips as you feel her gentle sway of her hips. 

Her wetness spreads across your thigh causing you to pull apart from the kiss. 

“Shit,” You moan, leaning your head back against the back of the loveseat. “You’re so fucking wet Bils.” You whimper as you thrust your leg up against her dripping core. Her fingers twisting and curling even faster as she feels you clench around her digits. 

“Do I feel good, pretty girl?” Billie groans as her voice drops an octave. Her hot breath fanning against your skin as her lips lay a chaste kiss to your sweaty skin. Nodding your head as a soft whimper escapes your lips. Your hips rotating and grinding against her thigh as her fingers bring you to the brink of your orgasm. 

“I need words ma, tell me who’s making you feel good?” She whines in your ear as her hips grind faster against you. Her breath heaves as she feels your legs clench around her. “You feel so good. Fuck Billie!” You moan as your lips find her neck. Capturing her skin between your teeth as you rut against her faster. Making sure to leave your mark along her neck as you feel yourself climbing higher. Your mind is completely in the clouds as you feel Billie on every surface of you. 

Your breathing harsh against her chest as you feel everything around you get quiet. Your heart racing and your vision blurry as she repeatedly hits your sweet spot. Your toes curling and legs clenching around her as your body finally lets go of the losing battle. Your moans bouncing off the walls of your trailer as your fingers grip and grasp at her naked back. Her groans dance in your ears as her hips rut a final time before her body goes stiff. Her lips heavy on your neck as she nips and sucks your sensitive skin. Her orgasm washes over her like cool water on a hot day. Moaning as she feels your hands slide down to her hips encouraging her to keep her motions against your thigh. Her fingers are still thrusting deep inside you at a steady pace as you both try to ride out your highs. 

With heavy sighs and sore limbs you both rest against each other trying to catch your breaths. Your fingers gently tapping along her hip as she lays featherlight pecks along your jaw. Humming softly as you can’t fight the smirk working its way across your cheeks. A chuckle ripples off Billies chest as she furrows her face deeper in your neck once again trying to her bashfulness. Her cheeks burning up as you gently grip the back of her neck pulling her up out of your neck. Eyes glancing up at her as your smiles match. Her lip held tightly between her teeth as she reached down and brushed her fingertips across your features. Her eyes were bright and excited as neither one of you were ready to burst this unexpected little bubble you were in. 

“Wanna get out of here?” Billie asks with a sneaky mischievous look in her eyes. Your smile only grows as you quickly nod your head yes. Pushing her up off your body as you both begin to dress before you both make your way out of the trailer. Not really sure where this all will lead but you definitely weren’t complaining. Not when you felt her hand gently tug on yours before she slowly interlaced your fingers. Leading you towards her parked car. When the raging fluttering of butterflies overtook your tummy when you felt her fingers gently dancing across your thigh as she drove you both back to the hotel. Your skin burning under her touch as the anticipation grew more than you could bare as she pushed you through the door and onto the bed. Her lips leave a hot trail as she sucks and licks your neck. 

Her smirk is undeniable as she lowers her lips to your ear, “Mm don’t worry pretty girl, I won’t tell anyone either…” 

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Eldritch Ex-Husband ///////

Your now ex-husband is incredibly surprised when the authorities are dispatched to your new house when he enters. Thinking nothing of it he broke the knob of your new home, thinking after all that time talking with the judge over some foreign topic you’d both be settling into the new place. Turns out this ‘divorce’-thing and ‘restraining order’-stuff meant something after all. That he couldn’t be with you and the baby.

“Wait, the dee - force means I don’t get to come home? What–?”

“Sir, if you give me trouble it’ll only hurt your chances of seeing your kid more.”

“Wait I can’t see him? (Y/n)! (Y/n)-honey, please!”

“Sir, please put your hands behind your back.”

The only reason he doesn’t suck their brains out through their noses+ fight more is because he’s so devastated as he thinks about how in the dark about cruel-human-practices. Only now does it register that when you were oh-so cutely crying about leaving, you weren’t talking about a late night run to the store to satisfy your cravings. That the word he had dismissed as something you wanted to buy was actually an action. An action that meant he’d be deprived of the most important person in his life.

“Hello?”

“......I did not understand before….but I understand now.”

“Kilton? You know a restraining order extends to calls, right?”

“IM nOt LetTInG yOu go—”

Click.

“Creep.”

As he reluctantly uses the resources proposed to him, to argue for custody he has time to think about when you first mentioned the word. But the more he replays those heavenly moments with you he realizes how often your brow was scrunched and a vein was popping from that kissable forehead. It’s then that your ex-husband begins to realize just how little he was actually listening to you. Ashamed, he’s realized that while he finds all your actions absolutely irresistible it didn’t mean you were happy. And he really had no one to blame but himself.

“Hello this is Kilton (L/n) if you have a message leave it at the tone….beep.”

“Hey I hope I got the right number but I need your help with the baby….there’s stuff going on that I have no idea how to deal with. I won’t call the police or tell anyone..I just need….some help. And you're the only one who can give it to me.”

“OF COURSE i’LL BE RIGht oVER!”

“Wait you never set up your voicemai—”

When you left your husband, you were tired of being so confused all the time. Your husband, your best friend was keeping you in the dark for a long time now. Starting from the occasionally odd behavior you’d witness him do, that he’d brush off as if it were nothing. Like the doors in the house that have begun to open to alternate dimensions (that’s what you believe but your husband will not explain in any way) ignoring your concerns and calling you being ‘silly.’ It was annoying but you hadn’t died yet so it wasn’t that bad…until you got pregnant.

“How can this be?”

“Yippee I told you, that one took!”

“No, I literally can’t.”

“Of course, you can babe, you already are look at your little bump.”

“No like I literally can’t this is unbelievable.”

Whether you physically can and were vigilant in prevention or you physically should not be able to conceive matters not. You are pregnant. Or you were. And while dealing with the intense hormones and birthing pains and gravity-defying phenomena happening in your home, your ex-husband would explain nothing. Doing nothing but smile wistfully at you while you demanded to know why the fridge was inching closer every time you turned the corner. Any sane person could only handle so much of his pretend assurances that you were just losing your mind. 

But hindsight 20/20 you should’ve known you couldn’t get rid of your eldritch ex-husband with your eldritch baby. 

“Hey you left the door unlocked, so I let myself in. Babe, you can’t be doing that it’s really unsa–the furniture doesn’t look at all like it did before.”

“Of course it doesn’t! Because your son has decided to rearrange it with his humming!” 

“That’s not a hum, Love. He’s singing a hymn of Utter Chaos–”

“I DON’T CARE WHAT IT IS MAKE HIM STOP.”

As you suspected the root of all the inexplicable happenings in your life were because of your ex-husband and by extension the little bundle that has been doing all sorts of things a normal baby shouldn’t. Like humming the ‘utter chaos song’ or making supplies float over to you while changing him or how at the end of his bath the water turns red and evaporates in an echo of screams. It’s just a little alarming.

“Where is the baby?”

“In that other dimension.”

“Excuse me?”

“Isn’t that something familiar to you? Every now and then he just goes into this other dimension that let’s his laugh morph the walls a little.”

“Oh my. That’s new for me too.”

Surprisingly despite your husband’s now-confirmed-eldritch-heritage he’s not an exact expert on everything his son does. Apparently no one from his world/dimension/atternate plane of existence does everything your son does and is blissfully writing off as something from your side of the family. He’ll shrug and use the opportunity to listen to you list the observations you’ve made about your darling offspring and maybe compliment you on your vigilance as a new unfortunately single parent. Don’t worry it won’t be that way for long!+

“So the blood water thing. It happens whenever he interacts with water.”

“Oh I know that one it’s an old habit of mine, for storing water for later!”

“What about the metal-eating?”

“Metal eating? With no teeth? Beats me must have gotten a taste from all those utensils you’re so fond of. By the way parenthood looks good on you have I told you that?”

As he becomes more of a constant presence in your home, there's a startling change in your baby boy’s behavior. It doesn’t stop but it’s a lot less destructive. Finally, you could have the delivery crew enter the yard without them being swallowed by the portal to your son’s crib. Finally, you can afford to have a couple-hour meet and greet with your family without anyone inexplicably sprouting horns. So reluctantly you let him back into your life with very specific conditions.

“You can’t stay the night.”

“Aww but aren’t you worried about me going home in the dark?”

“I know you’re not just some helpless human, so no. Second rule no kissing or lovey dovey things with me.”

“Got it. So vague I can work with that.”

“And finally–”

“EEEKK! WHAT DID HE DO TO MY BABY!?”

“Oh guess someone’s up from their nap.”

“I’ll distract her with a ring to her doorbell, you change back the dog.”

“As always, please try to turn down her invites for dinner this time. I don’t think I can spare her if she upsets him again.”

“No promises!”

Kilton realizes that what he has with you doesn’t mean he’s equally let back into your life, especially since so many other couples ailed by this (dee)force co-parent more or less the same so he’s got his work cut out for him. He’ll have to finally get over his listening issue while worming his way back into your heart! And don’t worry he definitely will!

[wonkizz]

blossom of a flower

in which: you post yourself doing a sexy choreo for the first time ever and it makes enhypen feel…hot and heavy.

엔하이픈 x fem reader genre: highly suggestive warn: very suggestive language, flirting, usage of pet names, cursing, reader can be picked up in riki’s

now playing ▶️ : dance for you by beyoncé

희승

you had posted it on purpose, knowing your boyfriend had your post notifications on. no caption, just the video alone.

you were currently apart, you at your own practice while heeseung was at his. although it wasn’t long before he called you.

“hello,” you answered, trying not to giggle as you heard his harsh breathing on the other end of the phone.

“you’re fucking crazy, you know that?” he says, not even waiting for you to answer before going on a spiel.

“i know you and i know you did that on purpose, knowing we’d be apart. im not there to tease you. not there to tell you how well you did, how good you looked. i can only imagine what was going through your head doing that. was it me? were you thinking of me, baby?”

“i’m always thinking of you hee,” you respond, feeling the temperature in the room get 10x hotter than it already was.

“just wait until later, i’ll give you all the attention you’re probably craving right now.”

종성

your background in hip hop made the genre of dance very easy for you to do and accomplish. jay always praised you whenever you posted a new video of you doing choreo, complimenting you moves. though you had never done something like this.

you decided you wanted to expand your horizons and give another type of dance a try. you didn’t tell jay, wanting it to be a surprise for him as well as your fans.

when you posted it with him right next to you, watching as he got the notification, you gauged his reaction. his eyes widened hearing the song and its lyrics, but his eyes followed you on the screen, watching you move across it in ways he didn’t know you could move.

as the video finished, jay didn’t move nor speak for a moment.

you finally chose to break the ice, “so, what’d you think?”

“i think i have a problem and only you can solve it,” he says, tossing his phone aside, grabbing your hand and leading you to the bedroom.

재윤

jake was your biggest hype man. nobody did it for you like him.

whenever you posted a new video showcasing your talents, he’d be the first one to text you, complimenting you on how good you are.

this time though, when you posted, your phone was eerily dry in terms of texts from him.

you sat on your shared couch, confused as to why he hadn’t texted. did he not like it? was he angry you had posted something like that?

the door suddenly swung open, showing an out of breath jake, sweating like he’d just ran a marathon.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, immediately concerned.

you get up, vying for the kitchen to get him some water when a hand grabs you from behind, turns you around and lips crash onto yours.

the kiss is heated and you can barely keep up as jake moves hurriedly, discarding every piece of clothing he can reach.

“do you know how fucking crazy it drove me seeing you move like that. i had to run out of practice before anyone saw how hard i was.”

성훈

sunghoon was in the dorm when you sent him the link.

“tell me what you think 😘” you had said.

and he watched it, not knowing what to expect.

but the way he immediately got hard was astronomical. he had to use a pillow to cover himself before anyone could see.

“get over here immediately.” he texted back.

you arrived 10 minutes later, jolly with yourself.

the others had thankfully retreated to their rooms, not there to witness sunghoon’s embarrassment. he practically dragged you to his room, throwing you onto his bed and locking the door.

“you think you’re so fucking funny huh?”

you laid there, pleased with yourself if the smile on your face said anything, “i think i’m pretty much a comedian.”

sunghoon started undoing the tie on his sweats, “i’ll show you funny, sweetheart.”

선우

sunoo was also very big on supporting you. he always did his best to show you love and affection, cheering you on with everything you did. this time was no different. he texted you almost immediately after you had posted the video, giving you a live reaction.

“omg im watching it now.”

“okay, love the song choice”

“ohhh this is different for you!!”

“how do you move like that, seriously??”

and then it was quiet for a few minutes.

“are you okay?” you had texted, worried something had happened.

the text bubble popped up immediately and you couldn’t help but laugh at his next text.

“i’m okay, but im hard and horny now :( how could you do this to me?”

“do you need me to come help you?”

“yes please.”

정원

you and jungwon danced together frequently.

today you decided to show him a new choreo you had learned with your choreographer. he was excited of course, always ready to see whatever it was you wanted to show him.

what he wasn’t expecting was the loud bass and slow melody to come out of the speakers.

nor was he expecting the way you moved to the floor. the way you moved…how else could he describe it other than enticing and absolutely beautiful? by the time you finished, he had to wipe the drool that had escaped his mouth.

you walked up to him, laughing at his shocked face, knowing this was something you’d never done before. something he’d never seen before.

“so, what’d you think?”

jungwon had to take a second to think about his next words. he got up, going to the door of the practice room, locking it.

he came back to you, “i think i need you right now and i can’t wait until we’re back home.”

니키

riki was in the bedroom, getting ready to go out with the guys while you were sat in the living room.

you posted the video on purpose of course, your intention to make him stay home with you, without words of course.

within seconds, you could heard the video playing from the bedroom. you giggled to yourself, praying your plan worked.

you thought it would end after one play, but then you heard it play three more times.

is he good? you thought to yourself, but not getting up to check on him.

suddenly, he came out of the bedroom, phone in hand, video playing again for a fourth time, half dressed by the way.

“if you wanted me to stay home, you could’ve just asked,” he said, smirking at you.

you shrugged your shoulders, “maybe i just needed a reason to post the video.”

riki suddenly ditched his phone in favor of picking you up off the couch and carrying you to the bedroom as you laughed.

“we’ll see how much you’re laughing by time i’m done with you.”

WONKIZZ 2025

note: i got kinda lazy as we went so pls ignore that :/ i hope u enjoy anyway andddd yeah hehe

[halliejaade]

Here's a little one shot from my upcoming Joaquín Torres x Female Reader fic, Edelweiss. It's a childhood friend's to lovers fic and I am so excited to share it with you all!

Tick...

Your knee bounces rhythmically.

Once. Up. Down.

Twice. Down. Up.

You pause. Once, and then twice again. You're not sure what it is about the combination that calms you, but you've always done things in pairs. The clock in the corner ticks loudly, reminding you that in only an hour you'll have to say goodbye.

You never quite mastered that; not when your childhood dog, Lucy, passed away. Not when the blip happened and everyone you loved just... disappeared. And certainly, most definitely, you didn't think you could bear this.

Joaquín grins nervously at his mother, who smooths out the wrinkles that apparently only she can see on his tan T-shirt. You weren't sure how he was able to make the uniform look so good, but somehow he pulled it off. He ran a hand over his cropped hair, before turning to you.

"Don't look so sad, rain boots," He says, attempting a bright smile. The nickname makes you laugh somberly.

You had only been twelve when you moved into the house next door to his. For whatever reason, for an entire year, no matter the occasion, you refused to wear any shoes other than your bright green rain boots. Joaquín had adopted the nickname for you after you became friends, and had never stopped calling you it.

Tick tick...

You blink owlishly, willing the tears to dry before they can spill over your lash line.

His mother glances between the two of you. "I'll just be over there for a moment."

She joins your mom at the cafe which is probably too expensive for their tastes, but is a good reason to allow the two of you this last moment together in the busy airport.

"Do you have to go?" You ask quietly, fiddling with your favorite bracelet.

He steps into your space, his boots coming toe to toe with your dirty sneakers. The sight causes a tear to finally spill down your cheek.

"I'll visit when I can, okay? I swear to you." He whispers, placing his hands on your shoulders. The look you give him after makes his heart squeeze painfully.

He hates seeing you so sad. Hates the fact that he's the reason you're crying.

"Please-" You hiccup, "Please be safe, Joaquín."

Tick tick tick...

One moment, you're standing toe to toe with him, and in the next, you're pressed close to his chest. You turn your face into his neck, his arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders.

"You remember when we were little and we always played heroes?"

You nod, before sniffling. You had never cared much about the Avengers, hadn't cared much about paying attention to things like that, but Joaquín was always so excited that you couldn't help but fall in love with the concept of the superheroes.

"I'm finally making that dream come true," He says into your hair. "I'm gonna make little me proud."

You tighten your arms around his torso. "I'll be the first to buy your figurine when you inevitably save the world some day."

He pulls back, and looks into your eyes. "I'll miss you so very much, Y/n. But I'll write to you, and I'll come home whenever I can. I'll be safe. I swear."

The prospect that he'll write you letters makes you giggle. "You remember the letters?"

He nods, his own laugh escaping his lips as he recalls how twelve year old you thought it was so romantic that soldiers sent letters home to their loved ones. "I'll do anything to make you smile."

Tick tick tick tick...

An announcement screeches over the speakers.

Joaquín frowns slightly, before letting go of you. Both his mother and yours abandon their coffees, and join you back near the gate.

"I have to go now," He says, as if the announcement didn't tell you that already.

Boom.

Another quick round of hugs goes around before Joaquín grabs his bags and leaves.

"Do you think he'll turn around?" Your mom asks.

Joaquín's mom nods, "Y/n is here. Of course he will."

As if on cue, he turns, right before he's out of sight. He waves to your mother's before his eyes land on you. He sends a wink your way, and mouths, "I'll see you before you know it, rain boots."

You only hope that he's right, and that he'll come home safe and sound.

[gummydummy19]

No one else

Summary: You see Price again for the first time after he went on mission…and after you slept with him months ago

Content Warning: mentions of smut, angst, age gap

Pairing: John Price x reader (NO GENDER/LOOKS SPECIFIED)

A/N: short, sweet and angsty, folks! this has been in my drafts for a looooong time, enjoy <3

Word Count: 1100+

“I…I haven’t...been...with anyone else, you know?”

“What?”, He looked down at you, your head resting on his sticky chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Since you left…I uhm….I haven’t slept with anyone else.”

It had been months since you last saw him.

You and John had been friends for years. Sure, he was a little older than you, but you never cared. He was handsome and smart and kind and he always knew what to do.

He was the one you called when your car broke down on the side of the road. The one who took you for a drink after a long day at work.

And last summer, he suddenly became the one who made you cum so many times you forgot your own name.

It was a one-time thing. A moment of heated passion between two friends. The fact that you'd had a crush on him for over a year played no part in the matter.

Besides, you didn't have much time to dwell, because the next morning when he got called into work, he was told that he was needed for another mission.

Well it turns out, that did actually leave you lots of time to dwell. Six months of it.

It had gone by incredibly fast and agonizingly slow at the same time, but there he was, back home, taking sips of his beer on your couch while you cooked him his first decent meal in half a year.

You'd been eyeing each other all night. Small talk paired with small touches. After dessert, when there were no more dishes to be washed, no more stupid questions to be asked, nowhere left to hide, he kissed you.

And that left you here, in your bedroom. Tangled in the forest green sheets, sweaty and satisfied. His rough hands drew gentle shapes on your shoulder until you opened your stupid mouth.

“I havent been with anyone else…”

Price was quiet, with an expression on his face that gave little away.

The silence grew thicker by the second. An uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach and you started to regret even saying anything.

You were about to mumble out an excuse, apologize, tell him never mind, and that it was silly. Your mouth opened but before the first sound could fly out of your throat, he broke the silence.

“Neither have I.”, he stated dryly.

“You haven’t?”, you sat up a little, getting a better look at his face.

“You thought I had?” He raised his brow a little, you could tell it was a reflex. He almost looked…annoyed.

"Yeah, I mean...no....I don't know", you babbled.

"Well, I didn't."

"You could have."

"I didn't want to." he replied with just a twinge of irritation, “Did you want me to?”

“No I just…I wouldn’t have been mad…if you had.”

His brows twisted in what can only be described as a dumbfounded frown.

“What the…” he grumbled, sitting up fully too. “So if I would have fucked some other lass, you would’a been totally fine with that?”

Your eyes darted around nervously as you tried to figure out how to answer that question.

“I just…you can do what you want. You don’t have any responsibilities towards me. I would have understood if you had…if…if you’d…”

The thought of him with another woman made you sick to your stomach, but you knew you couldn't have expected that of him. That he'd stayed loyal to someone he'd slept with once.

Well...twice now.

"Alright then, good to know how you feel," he said as he got out of bed, quickly grabbing his boxers off the floor and pulling them on.

"W-, Price, where are you going?"

"I clearly got this all wrong, that's on me."

"No wait, please! I...I'm sorry I just...I..." you babbled. Your chest felt tight, that familiar feeling of panic settled in the pit of your stomach as you watched him grab his stuff off the floor.

“Can you please just hold on a minute? Please?”, you pleaded, “John!”

That got his attention. His eyes locked with yours as he stood there brooding like an angry bear.

“I thought…” he started, you could tell he was trying to keep himself composed, “I thought we had something. I thought we were something. A thing. The pair of us.”

You sat there on the bed, with your thin sheet wrapped flimsily around yourself, staring up at him.

“John…I”

“I know we didn’t exactly have a conversation about it…but after what happened I just sort of assumed…and I shouldn’t have.”

“No! God, I’m such an idiot…I'm just expressing myself all wrong…", you tried explaining, “I wanted you to know I hadn’t been with anyone else…because I don’t want anyone else…but I also know we didn’t talk about it so I would have no right to be mad if you…if you had…”

“Screwed someone else?”, he damn near barked.

“Yeah…", you visibly flinched at the thought this time. "Can you please sit back down? Please?"

He obliged. The mattress dipped a little as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his back toward you. The room was quiet again. You didn't really know what to say or do...you had missed him so much...all you wanted was to be close to him, that was all you had wanted for months.

You were staring at the freckles on his back and you couldn't help but lean closer, your lips carefully brushing against the skin and pressing a loving kiss there. You felt him tense up, yet he remained quiet.

"The thought alone makes me sick..." you started, hoping he would get what you were referring to, "but I would have understood, you were gone for a long time and you didn’t make any promises to me”

You felt him tense up again when you said that last part.

“M'not angry at you sweetheart, I'm just angry at myself ", he turned around, his sweet, blue eyes gazing at you with nothing but love and affection.

"I promised my heart to you a long time ago, I was just too dense to tell you about it..."

"Oh, John..", was all you could muster, you reached out and gently put your hand against his bearded cheek. He leaned into your touch, placing his own hand over yours.

"I should have at least made it clear how I felt, sweetheart, instead of leaving you wondering if I was fucking someone else for six months. Because I wasn’t. All I wanted was to be with you. There’s no one else I want, love.”

You were at a loss for words, so you settled for a kiss. Not that he was complaining, because he immediately maneuvered you onto his lap, mumbling praises and apologies.

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[heeaara]

박종성 ──────ANOMALY.

RELATiVE : no matter how hard you both tried, it wasn't just meant to be.

iNDEX : ｡｡ park jongseong + 𝑓.reader ⟡ wc1.7k, cw 𓂃 relationship, skinship, petnames, violence, mentions of blood, accident, death ? overall full on angst ♡.

아라 : my first angst fanfic, for those who had lost their loved ones, this ones for you. People come and people go, what important is that you cherish and treasure the moments you had spent with them.

You flinch slightly as you hear a knock on your window. It was past midnight, you were lying in your bed, wide awake, as many thoughts and feelings ran through your mind about the events that were programmed for tomorrow. tomorrow was a very big day for you, not only for you but someone you loved and held dearly. you sigh as you arise from your bed, going towards the window, opening it, letting in your soon to be husband.

Yes, tomorrow was a great day, tomorrow was yours and park jongseong's wedding day, tomorrow you were finally and officially going to be committed to the love of your life, to the man of your dreams, to the one you went through so much with. but, yet, you had this weird . . lingering feeling which you didn't like, instead of feeling ecstatic, you felt almost painfully sad, as if something horrible was to happen tomorrow.

A small sigh leaves your lips as jay wraps his arms around you softly. you aim to shake off this weird feeling as you snuggle into his neck, your favorite spot where you always seek to find warmth and comfort. 

"shouldn't you be sleeping ?" he asks softly as he chuckles, placing a soft feathery kiss on top of your head as you snuggle more into him. "no, can't sleep." you mumble against his neck as you close your eyes feeling assured of his presence.  "and why is that princess ? too excited for tomorrow are we ?" he states in a glee. you pull your head away from his neck, your arms still wrapped around his waist as you look up into his eyes. He looks down, back at you softly as a wave of emotions run through you, all those weird, unknown, miserable feelings coming back to your heart and mind. You look away, not being able the cope up with your emotions and you didn't want him to be worried as you knew how well he took care of you and how good he was at sensing when something wasn't right.

"Look at me." jay whispers, pulling you a little close as you glance at him, his eyes looking right into yours, trying to search for answers. "What happened baby ?" he asks softly as he holds your cheek, his thumb grazing it in a gesture of comfort. "I ━ its nothing." you mumble.

"Then why are you not looking at me?" he asks softly.

You look at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. He looks right into your eyes, searching for answers. "you know i'm always here for you right?" he states and, that was it. That was the final straw as finally, a sob leaves your lips. Jay quickly wraps his arms around you, your head buried into his crook. You hug him tighter as he whispers words of comfort, he hated seeing you cry, he hated every single atom that had hurt you. 

Time passes, your cries slow down as jay runs a had through your back, whispering words of comfort, trying all kinds of ways to ease you.

You slowly pull out of his neck, looking up at him. " I'm sorry." you whisper as you gaze at his soaked shirt, filled with your tears.

"Oh come on baby, You'd throw a whole tub of water and I wouldn't complain." he remarks as a breathy laugh leaves his lips. You lightly slap his chest as a small chuckle escapes your lips as well. 

"Now, my pretty girl, will you please tell me what happened hm?" He calls on. You look at him as a sigh escapes your lips. "We should go to sleep." You say as you pull yourself out of his grip and guide him towards the bed. "Hey, but ━ ".

You cut him off "cuddles please." 

"I can't say no to you, can I?" he remarks as he gets on the bed next to you, engulfing you by his arms. You both keep laying down as his hands involuntarily runs through your hair.

"I ━ it's just surreal." You say quietly. Jay hums as you continue, "We have gone through so much, no way it's been 6 years since us dating and now, finally we are engaged and will get married soon." 

"Yeah". he whispers. "I never knew this day would actually come, considering how much ━ just happened. Its just overwhelming, we went through so many breakups, had so many fights, cried together, laughed together. We have made so many memories, and I can't believe the fact that we will make so much more as well." You sniff, your voice raw with deep emotions.

"With our kids too." Jay says smiling ear to ear, earning a chuckle from you.

He cups your face with his one hand as he looks into your eyes, his gaze moving down to your lips as he slowly starts to lean in.

"I love you." he whispers right next to your lips.

"I love you too." You reply, closing your eyes and you felt it, you felt his lips perfectly molding into yours. He kisses you softly yet passionately, he hovers on top of you and You return the same passion by encircling your hands around his neck. And, without you even realizing, some tears fall from your eyes during the kiss. You did not know why were you crying, you had no idea you actually were and why exactly. Kisses with him had always felt safe, yet filled with love but this time, this kiss, felt as if it's the last time, you did not know what was going on, you had no idea why were you feeling like this. 

He kisses you harder as he hovers over you and slowly and gradually it turns into a steamy session, everything feeling hot, his hands running through your body, your heart beating fast.

And that's how the night passed, with you in his arms, sharing love through the night. You both knew you both loved each other a lot and everything just felt overwhelming and emotional to you.

──── 030125.

You looked at yourself in the mirror for the one last time till you exit the hair salon. Today was finally the day, the day you and jay had to make promises to each other. You felt nervous yet excited, you had dreamed of this day since you were a child. You wearing a white bride gown, A vile covering your face with the man of your dreams in front of you, the both of you taking your vows.

You get escorted by one of your maids, to the wedding car you would be going in, to the venue where your wedding was to be held. 

One the other side, jay had been anxiously waiting for your arrival. He kept checking his watch, the clock ticking second by second without any signs of you showing up. He was getting restless, his hands were feeling sloppy and moist due to sweat that came with the nervousness. He was perfectly dressed into a perfect black tailored tuxedo, his hair perfectly done.

tick.tick.tick, time passing by.

Where is she? he thinks to himself, why is the time going so fast? The guests were waiting, the priest was waiting, he was waiting, everyone were waiting, for you to arrive.

His thoughts get interrupted by a call on his phone, his feeling giddy, he had a bad feeling about this, he thought to himself. With slightly shaky hands, he pics up his phone, attaching it to his ear, "h-hello?" 

"hello, is this park jongseong speaking?" the other side said, an unknown number, "yes, its me." He replies, his chest feeling congested for some reason, an unknown ache filling his heart. 

"I am sorry to inform you that kim y/n has gotten into a severe car accident, she has been established to the hospital please reach up."

car accident. car accident. car accident. his mind kept repeating.

the phone fell off jay's hand as his mind goes numb, blank. The place around him moving in circles, his eyes blurry. His friends called him out, shook him, shouted out at him to tell them what happened. All he could do was stare at their face blanky, his throat felt as if clawed with chains, and his heart? it was about to die.

tick. tick. tick. time passing by.

He finally reached the hospital, where you were. His hair messy, his mind numb, his face soaked with tear stains and his perfectly tailored tuxedo? turned into a wreck. His friends where there, his parents were there, your parents were there, his world upside down, his heart filled with an unbearable ache.

he covered his face with his palms as he takes a seat on one of the steel benches in the waiting, his friends asking the doctors where you were, the whole place was a chaos.

His friends comforted him when jake and heeseung, who had been discussing your situation with the doctor came back, their faces pale, their hearts filled with deep sorrow and grieve.

"jongseong. ." heeseung mumbles as he looked down at jay who had covered his face with his hands. jay look up at him startled as he gets up immediately, bombarding them with questions, "y/n, my love, where's y/n, what did the doctors say? is she okay ━ heeseung hyung?" heeseung looks down, unable to face jay as he says, "we're sorry, jongseong.", controlling his sobs and tears as well.

Jay tries to move past the boys, trying to go to the doctor, his face full of panick "huh? fuck you mean? y/n ━ she's okay i know she's okay, we're getting married today━", jake had no other choice but to stop him, his hands moving towards his shoulders, moving him backwards. "y ━ y/n, she's . . no more", jake says as he sniffles, holding jay by the shoulder, a slight sob escaping heeseung's lips.

"YOU BASTARD." jay screams as he gets a hold of jake's collars "YOU'RE LYING TO ME, LYING TO MY FACE LIKE THAT, Y/N PROMISED ME SHE'LL NEVER LEAVE ME, MY Y/N WILL NEVER LEAVE ME, YOU MOTHERFUCKER." he shrieks, giving jake jerks as he hold his collars, his eyes wide, his face blank, his heart slain.

Heeseung tries to break free jay's grip from jake, "JONGSEONG CONTROL YOURSELF !" heeseung shouts.

Jay violently leaves jake's collars giving him a push, as he stumbles, his eyes wide, the world around him moving into circles, "y/n-ah. . ." he whispers her name, what was going on? Was this some kind of a joke? Was this a nightmare?

An unbelievable, hoarse chuckle leaves his throat as jay laughs, running a hand through his face, when gradually, his laugh turns into violent sobs.

Jake immediately hugs him, giving his friend a shoulder to cry on, a shoulder to take off his sorrows. This world was indeed a cruel place.

"take me t ━ to her, take me to my y/n, PLEASE, I SAID FUCKING TAKE ME TO MY Y/N" he sobs uncontrollably, not believing what his friends were saying. Everything was okay till yesterday, his life was going smooth and, in a matter of seconds? his life crashed down in front of his very eyes. He was helpless, so fucking helpless, his agony unendurable.

──── .

Silence, complete silence, no sound of breathing, nothing, only the faint smell of blood and moist is all he could feel as he entered the room. His face was red, his eyes were bloodshot due to the amount of crying he did. Why was life so unfair to him?

He takes slow yet small steps, his breath caught in his throat, his body shivering due to the impact of what he's going through. He takes slow, shaky steps towards the bed, where the lifeless body was placed, covered with white fabric completely over it.

His hands were shaking, his body was shaking.

Please don't be y/n, Please don't be y/n, Please don't be y/n, please wake me up from this nightmare. he kept thinking.

He slowly reaches his hands towards the white fabric, with shaky hands, languidly sliding off the fabric, his breath stuck in.

He forgot, he forgot breathing. His heart stopped, it had stopped a long ago. His mind in a haze. Your lifeless body pale, your body filled with wounds, your skull bandaged, your skin light purple and your bridal gown, the gown that you were wearing for your wedding was now filled with bloodstains, a complete devastation.

"no . . y-y/n-ah . .wake up, baby . . it's me, your jongseong."

no reply.

blank.

"c ━ come on y/n, this isn't funny anymore, WAKE UP, I SAID WAKE UP, PLEASE ━ PARK Y/N." he wails in torment, "PLEASE Y/N DON'T DO THIS TO ME, T-THIS ISN'T FUNNY ANYMORE", he sobs, his eyes swollen due to shedding so much tears.

"WAKE UP, I SAID FUCKING WAKE UP." he shakes your body, giving your cheeks pats, in hope that you'd wake up completely fine.

Sobs, one sob after another, he kept crying, roaring, he kept shaking you, still, nothing, your lifeless body didn't move a budge.

Getting a hold of your pale, lifeless hand, he intertwines his fingers with yours, kissing your knuckles softly, feeling your cold skin beneath his lips.

"No matter how hard we tried, it wasn't just meant to be." he whispered, not to himself but to you as well. Maybe, maybe in another life, things won't be like this. maybe in another life, you both would be destined together.

TAGLiST : @chrrific @vmpivory @manaah02 @liwinly @hazelira @llovelili ( imk if you want me to add you in the perm taglist ).

[rosenclaws]

Heey! I think your requests are closed, but when you open them, do you think you could write about Logan (any variant) with a reader who has a bad relationship with food? I kinda need the comfort right now, I have to eat to survive, but I hardly ever want to eat, and when I do I feel guilty about it, specially if it's not something super healthy or low cal.

I think Logan would be a really good partner and show support, make sure his partner eats well or doesn't slip meals and even cooks for them :')

Hi! Absolutely I can, I understand what you're going through and I want to know that you're loved and you have my full support <3 I picked origins Logan for this, he just gives off the softest vibes and would be a completely supportive and sweet partner. It's a little short and I apologize but I hope it helps <33

warnings: eating disorder/bad relationship with food, please don't read if this would possibly trigger you

Logan could tell something was off from the moment he walked through the door. His stomach rumbled as he smelled whatever delicious meal you were making for dinner. As he entered the kitchen he saw you pulling a pan out of dinner. Lasagna, his favorite.

"Smells fucking amazing," He purrs as he wraps his hands around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

He still smells like pine needle and dirt from work. Normally he doesn't get back till way past dinner time but today was an easy day. How lucky he gets to eat dinner with the love of his life huh?

"Logan! You scared me." You huff as you gently push his arms off your body.

"Go clean up dinners almost ready." He frowns as you shoo him away.

Lately things have just felt off. You smiled and laughed like you always do but there were little things that just didn't feel right. Especially around meal times.

"Okay sweetheart, I'll be right back." Logan can't help but wonder what could possibly be wrong.

Are you sick? Is something bothering you? If so why wouldn't you tell him? Worries start to invade his thoughts. What could be going on that you can't even go to him about it? After a quick shower and a change of clothes he heads back to the kitchen. Only to see one plate of food sitting on the counter.

"I made it with the sauce you like, not the off brand one." You say with a smile but Logan's worry remains. He sits at the counter and takes the plate.

"Where's yours?" He asks. Your face falls for just a second. Anyone else would have missed it but not Logan. Not when it comes to you.

"Not hungry." You try and play it off, pushing the plate closer but Logan grabs your wrist.

"Logan, I had a big lunch. I'll eat later." You try and tug out of Logan's grip but he remains firm. Never enough to hurt you but enough to keep you there. To keep you from running away.

"I don't believe you. In fact, I've barely seen you eat anything in the last couple months."

The memories come flooding back. He's seen you eat, but its never much and it's always healthy. Shame starts to creep into his bones as he realizes he's failed to put the pieces together. All this time.

"Please sweetheart, whatever is going on you can tell me." Tears start to well up in your eyes as Logan speaks.

You never meant for him to find out. You thought you could handle this on your own. You had been so careful and eat just enough so that he never caught on. But the truth is you're exhausted. Food is nothing more that a means to survive. Everyday you force yourself to eat just enough and no more. Its been exhausting. Especially if the food you eat is too many calories or just plain unhealthy.

Logan almost jumps across the counter the moment he sees the tears, fearing the worst. He abandons his dinner in favor of wrapping you in his arms on the couch. Cooing softly as you cry and explain everything to him. He doesn't say a word, he just listens. Rubbing your back and letting you soak his shirt with tears.

When you're done you prepare for the worst. What if Logan leaves? I mean it would certainly be easier for him to not have to deal with. All of this. But he doesn't. With gentle hands he cups your face and dries your tears.

"I'm so sorry." He mumbles. Sorry that he didn't notice sooner and sorry you've been carrying this for so long.

"Are you mad?" You ask quietly.

"No, of course not." Logan presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Listen honey, this isn't healthy." He knows that you know that but its not as easy as just a flip of a switch to change habits that had been built for years.

"I'm going to be with you every step of the way alright?" He says, tilting your head up so you can look him in the eyes. He wants you to know that he truly means every word.

"Okay," Logan pulls you into a tight hug, whispering sweet words over and over. He wishes he could take all your pain away in an instant. He'd bear it for you without even asking, but he can't.

But he stays true to his promise. Logan is there when you need him, to remind you to eat and taking it upon himself to make meals for you and with you. Some days were harder than others but Logan carried the weight you couldn't.

Things still aren't easy, but with Logan by your side you think you might be able to do anything.

[serenityluvz]

𝗘𝗻𝗵𝘆𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: 𝗛𝗲 𝗙𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗕𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆

⋆𐙚₊˚ˢᵉʳᵉⁿⁱᵗʸᴸᵘᵛᶻ

Heeseung – “I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”

The moment he realizes, he feels sick. Heeseung never forgets important dates, but he’s been so caught up with schedules that the day just… slipped his mind. When he sees your disappointed expression, his heart shatters. "Baby… please tell me I didn’t actually forget." You don’t say anything. His stomach drops. "Fuck." He runs a hand through his hair, pacing. "I swear, I didn’t mean to, Y/N. I feel like the worst boyfriend ever." That night, he goes all out—surprising you with a romantic setup, heartfelt apologies, and plenty of cuddles. "I know I messed up, but let me make it up to you, okay? Starting now, your birthday is a week-long celebration." And he means it.

Jay – “Shit… Y/N, I—”

Jay realizes it too late. He’s casually scrolling through his phone when he sees the date—and his heart stops. "No. No, no, no." He looks at you, but you’re already cold, your usual warmth missing. "Fuck, baby, I—" He reaches for you, but you step back. "Just… don’t," you mutter. He hates himself for this. He spends the next hours desperately trying to fix it—getting your favorite cake, a handwritten letter, and the biggest bouquet he can find. When he finally sees you again, his voice is soft. "I don’t deserve you, but please, let me make this right."

Jake – “Wait… today is the… oh my God.”

Jake is so sure that your birthday is tomorrow—until he hears someone casually mention the date, and suddenly, he’s frozen in panic. "No, no, NO—" He spins to find you, praying you’ll laugh and say it’s fine—but the disappointment in your eyes? It kills him. "Y/N, please, I swear I thought it was tomorrow—" He’s so genuinely devastated that you almost feel bad. That night, he showers you with endless affection, apologizing a thousand times. "I’m an idiot, but I’m your idiot," he pouts. "Let me make it up to you?" And when you finally smile, he tackles you in a hug, refusing to let go.

Sunghoon – “I… I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

Sunghoon doesn’t realize it until way too late. The moment he does, his whole body goes cold. He sees you sitting on the couch, scrolling on your phone, not even looking at him. "Y/N…" he starts, voice hesitant. You don’t answer. He swallows hard, stepping closer. "Baby, I—"

"Don’t," you mumble. "Just don’t, Hoon." And that? It wrecks him. He doesn’t know what to say—he’s never felt so fucking awful. The next day, he surprises you with a huge apology, making sure you know how much he loves you. "I’ll spend every day making up for this. I swear."

Jungwon – “Please don’t be mad… I feel terrible.”

Jungwon realizes the second he sees the way you’re acting—quiet, distant, avoiding his gaze. "Baby… what’s wrong?" When you don’t answer, it hits him. "Oh my God… your birthday." He instantly feels sick. "Y/N, I—fuck, I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry." You stay quiet, and it kills him. That night, he does everything he can to make you smile again—cooking your favorite meal, writing you a heartfelt letter, pulling you into his arms. "I’ll never, ever forget again. Please, let me make it up to you." And when you finally hug him back, he swears to remember forever.

Sunoo – “I deserve the silent treatment for this, don’t I?”

Sunoo is so confident that he’s got everything under control—until he realizes he completely forgot. The moment he sees the sad look in your eyes, his stomach drops. "Oh, no. Oh, no no no—" He rushes to you, hands on your shoulders. "Baby. Please tell me I didn’t forget your birthday." You don’t answer. "Fuck, I did." He groans, pulling you into a tight hug. "I’m the worst, Y/N. You can ignore me for the next 24 hours—I deserve it." But of course, he doesn’t let you ignore him. The next day, he showers you with affection, gifts, and so many apologies. "I love you. And next year? I’m making sure this is the best birthday ever."

Ni-ki – “...Can I fix this?”

Ni-ki freezes when he realizes. He knows he messed up, but when he sees how upset you are, he feels completely lost. "Y/N… I forgot, didn’t I?" You nod, looking away. His heart sinks. "Shit." He hesitates before reaching for your hand. "I don’t know what to say except… I’m so sorry. Can I fix this?" He spends the entire day making it up to you—playing your favorite games, taking you out, holding your hand extra tight. By the end of the night, he whispers, "I’m never forgetting again. I promise." And you know he means it.

[cryptid-killjoy]

"Thank you." Piper returned noting his charming politeness and ability to notice quite pleased. It was not a talent all men had. It was a refreshingly comfortable feeling. She'd surely friend zoned enough men fawning all over her who spoke of nothing but her beauty, oh her eyes, her eyes, her eyes, and their insatiable need to admire them. She had a big ego but got bored quickly. It was the same with friends, women, too. "I requested it in my tastes. I'm sure you'll be designing your own place soon enough."

He thanked her for the lot. She nodded and waved at the laptop. "I didn't want to order a phone either. I don't know. The phone is personal. It's with you all the time. Thought you might want to pick that yourself too. However, as soon as you get one, I can give you all sorts of contacts. You'll be right back in the swing of things in no time." He said he didn't need a stylist. She loved that he was simplistic. She was not sure. Jumping through time she had met a few Pierre's who were pretty high to-do depending on where they ended up in life. The more he spoke the more she was sure he was the right one. As for the green, "No problem. I remembered how much you and the guys liked it. It'll help you relax."

That's when Zero came in and Piper could only smile. His happiness reassured her that she had selected an appropriate room.

"On it. I'm so it." Zero turned right around to the sound of the metal faucett wasn't far behind. The water splashing and filling was a short second.

Piper moved around and made herself comfortable on the sofa. She crossed her legs and then pulled her own cell phone out. "Okay handsome. I'll tell you what. You go get your relaxation on. I'll be in there in a few minutes. I have a few texts to send so people at the ball don't worry about me tonight and wonder where I went. No one knew what I was going to do. The last thing I need is a search party after me."

She teased not that she really thought her people were that dramatic, but it was Halloween. The veil was thin and there was no telling what conclusions they might jump to. Despite her apparent lack of empathy she did actually notice how Claudius responded.

List of people she planned on texting:

Her Papas

Maddy

Scout

Dale

The Savanne girls

Delta

and Seven's mother Clotho - Just in case he wanted to catch up with them if he was able, the address. The Fate would text back "We Know." The soothsayer made Piper grin when it came in. Of course they knew.

Most were just quick texts letting them know she'd left the ball for the evening and she was so glad to have gotten to see them. She'd put lots of jack-o-lantern, spider, or other Halloween emojis at the end. She hoped that would be enough for most of her closest friends. She wasn't sure about her Papas. But she hoped they were too busy enjoying the ball so she wouldn't be questioned too critically just yet. She planned on making Pierre announements later on after they had a chance to breathe and he had a chance to make some decisions.

Zero would already be down to nothing in the tub by the time Piper was explaining her little plan to Pierre to catch up momentarily. He had nothing lose and no thoughts in his head but the moment unlike Piper. His arms would be outstretched across the back of the big round whirlpool waiting for the water to rise flicking his toes in the shallows as it covered his waist line.

"The only thing that could make this better. Pizza." Zero wasn't a hard boy to please. "Stuffed crust. Tunes. Turn on some tunes before you get in."

Pierre would take that as a promise. After all, why would Piper want to bring him back from the dead if they weren’t going to be spending any time together? This was just going straight to his ego - Piper cared about him so much that she was bending the very natural law to bring him back from the dead, and as a person with a brain - or rather as much of a brain as a Pierre could have. Brought him into this other world where he was safer.

He’d have to catch up later on what this Pierre was like. What about him had been so important that these people wanted him back. Welcomed him back.

“Thanks beautiful,” Pierre would wink at the fate, no matter which one of them had been the one to bring him the blanket, and he wrapped it around his shoulders, letting it dangle just long enough to cover his netherregions.

Of course Zero was going to volunteer. His own Zero had been exactly like this one. It made him feel all at home, all warm and cozy again. “Knew it would be you, pup.”

He was a little disappointed that ‘breaking it in’ wasn’t going to include Seven, but he could accept that. He gave Seven a huge thumbs up. “You’re such a mama’s boy,” He teased his friend. “Enjoy life, man, and I’ll see you later.”

He had one arm around Zero, and the other was reaching for Piper’s. This Pierre had slightly different hands. The fingers were a bit more calloused, for this Pierre took music a bit more seriously than the other. Hey, serenading was always a good way to get the ladies. Bitches loved broody musician types and he could play into the stereotype. But he also gripped onto Piper’s hand, her being his literal ifeline here. The reason he was breathing in this forest air.

Bouncing around made his stomach feel a little bit queasy though.

He wasn’t used to that.

“Beautiful color scheme,” He smirked, looking around. Some things never changed. Piper’s colors didn’t. He was looking at those comfortable pillows like he wanted to just sink into them for a little while. Let his stomach settle. Let everything settle. Come to terms with what had just happened.

“I don’t need a stylist,” He said with a laugh, running his fingers through his hair. The tips were still slightly wet from the bathtub that they had been in. They clung to his neck. “But thanks, I preash. Especially for the green.”

He was going to be needing that alright. And the laptop was a good idea. He wasn’t necessarily the smartest man but he knew enough to do a little bit of research into this world, see what was different. He didn’t even know about the zombies yet. About what happened in Feral. What had happened to New Orleans. He knew the forest, and then the inn, and now this place, wherever it was that they were.

He pulled Piper into him, chest to chest for a second, his dark brown eyes looking into her purple ones. He licked his lips, then the corner of his mouth went up in a smile.

“I’m glad I’m here too.”

He opened his mouth to answer that relaxing was exactly what he wanted to do, and maybe another bath, but Zero was on top of that, making him chuckle and rub the back of his neck.

“Start up the water,” Pierre said, pointing towards Zero. “And Piper, if you could kindly provide us with some groove, I think we’re going to have a beautiful night together.”

[sevikaslatinawife]

Sevika fluff, reader sat on her lap and doing sevikas makeup after months of begging her to let her do it she finally agrees

this is so fucking cute NOTE: I am keeping reader's skin tone unmentioned and only focusing on Sevika's skin tone bc I want everyone to feel welcomed to read this.

Makeup Practice

Warnings: modern!au, just fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Sevika grumbles as you peel off the sheet mask.

She was laid back on the pillows, your thighs straddling her abdomen while you sat on her hips. Her hands massaged the flesh of your thighs over the loose pajamas you had on.

“Shush,” You mutter, fingertips spreading the serum the sheet mask left behind. You thumbed down her neck, smearing it under her chin, jaw, and throat.

“This feels sticky.”

“It needs to dry, Vika,” You sigh and lean forward to peck her lips.

This makes her smile softly and lets you continue. You use an envelope of junk mail to fan the serum until it dries.

You continue to apply your toner on your fingers, tapping it against her face. She grunts at the suddenness of the tapping, squeezing your thighs under her hands.

Again, you lean over to peck her lips. This is the only way she stays a little compliant under the ministrations of her face.

After moisturizing, you do the same, kissing a little firmer. She hums low in her throat, parting her lips around yours to deepen the kiss only a little. You comply, distracting her enough while the moisturizer dries.

“This will feel strange,” You tell her as you apply a lip scrub to her lips. You use your ring finger to gently rub at her lips.

She frowns at the feeling and peels her eyes open, looking up at you while continuing to massage your thighs. “What is —”

“Stop,” you tell her, giggling when she grimaces. “You’re gonna get it in your mouth.”

You massage the lip scrub into her lips for another minute before reaching for the pack of baby wipes. “Sit up, please,” You tell her softly and she does without any more prompting.

She shifts your body closer as she lays back against the headboard, lips parting around your wiping of the grainy substance you put on her lips. Once they’re cleaned you turn to the towel you laid beside you, strewn with makeup and skincare products you were planning on using.

You had even gone out with her and got her shade-matched so you had everything in her color for the evening. To light-coverage foundation, to concealer, bronzer, and eyebrow pencil. You wanted it to be as simple as possible and nothing too full-coverage or full glam. 

“Hey,” she complains, fingers squeezing your thighs as you scan the products with your eyes.

You hum as you turn to look at her, plucking the lip mask and the silicone applicator. When you turn to face her, her lips are pursed in a soft pout, awaiting another kiss. You coo and thumb away any leftover sugar scrub from her bottom lip before leaning forward to press another kiss to her mouth.

“You’re so needy,” You tease, giving her another kiss to cut off her grumbling. “Can’t kiss you after this step.”

“What? That’s stupid,” she mutters as she watches you open the small jar of lip mask. “You can still kiss me…”

“You want me to kiss you that badly?”

“No,” Sevika scoffs, pouting as you start scooping some product from the small jar. When you go to apply it, she moves her head to the side and speaks again. “Wait — are you really not gonna kiss me after this one?”

You can’t help the flutter of your heart as she pouts at the thought of not kissing you for a few, mere moments. Part of you wants to continue teasing that no, you won’t be able to kiss her after this, but — as you are used to doing when she pouts like this — you cave.

“I will kiss you,” You assure, giving her another soft kiss. “Since you’re being so pouty about not kissing me for a little while.”

She glares at you, but there’s no malice once there’s a soft quirk of her lips. “You’re such a pain,” and she leans up to kiss you again. “But I will pout if it gets me what I want.”

You laugh and shake your head, going to apply the lip mask to her lips. This time, however, you press a kiss to her nose. You cap the lip mask and go to take the primer, applying it to your fingers before gently applying it to her face.

“Do this,” You tell her, sucking in your lips to demonstrate. She follows orders and you apply the primer around her nose and upper lip, kissing her nose once more.

She relaxes her mouth and you hum as you pick up the foundation and the foundation puff you use. You dot the foundation around her face and dab the puff around her face to blend it into her skin.

“Ouch,” she fake pouts as you pat more foundation on her skin. 

“My baby,” You coo and kiss her lips softly. “Such a softie.”

“ ‘m not a softie,” She scoffs, squeezing your thighs and massaging the flesh of them. 

“Whatever you say,” you giggle as you finish dabbing the foundation down to her neck.

You pick up the concealer and apply a little beneath her eyes, her eyelids, the center of her chin, above her Cupid’s bow and a little on the bridge of her nose. You blend it all softly, instructing her to close her eyes when you need to blend her eyelids, and to look up when you blend her under eyes.

After, you apply cream blush and blend it, too. “Close your eyes, please,” You ask as you shake the setting spray bottle.

“Are we almost done?” She asks but complies.

“Nope,” You reply and spray the wet base of makeup with the setting spray. “Have some more steps to go.”

She groans and leans her head back against the headboard while you dry her face with the same envelope you did earlier.

You apply the powders next. You blend the creases of the concealer beneath her eyes before applying setting powder to her face and powder blush over where you placed the cream. 

Sevika would momentarily grumble at a new step, only playing nice when you kissed any part of her face or her lips.

Bronzer, drawing in her eyebrows with the pencil, and her eyeshadow was a simple medium brown in her crease and under eye. You applied gold shimmer to her eyelids.

She normally always wears kohl, so she applied it herself while you held a mirror up to her face for her. She didn’t focus too much on what you had already applied to her face, so she hadn’t given you an honest reaction to the hour-long — maybe longer, since you can’t remember at what time you started — session on meticulous work you had put into the look.

 The corners of her eyes, the bridge of her nose and her cheekbones in a similar gold highlighter. She even let you put on a bit of mascara on her, as well.

“This feels heavy,” Sevika complained about the mascara, lifting a hand to her eyes.

You caught her wrist before she touched her eyes. “You’re gonna smear it, Vika. You gotta let it dry.”

“Ugh, fine,” She groans and blinks slowly at you, trying to get used to the feeling of the mascara on her lashes. It did feel heavy and you understood, it felt the same way when you started wearing makeup all those years ago. It’s just something you grow accustomed to as the time passes and you don’t pay it any mind after a while.

As you wait for her mascara to dry, you reach for the baby wipe you had used earlier and use a clean corner to wipe Sevika’s lips of any foundation or concealer, as well as the remnants of the lip mask.

“Finally,” Sevika grumbles and leans forward, hand cupping your jaw to kiss you.

You kiss back softly, slowly because you hadn’t added the last round of setting spray and didn’t want the makeup you had been working so hard for to be wiped off.

“You taste like vanilla,” She tells you and licks her lips.

“It’s the lip mask. It’s vanilla flavored,” You tell her, sucking your lips together to rub them against each other, tasting the artificial vanilla on your tongue.

“I like that lipgloss you always wear,” She tells you as you brush your thumb across her lashes to make sure they’re dried. “Pink with sparkles, tastes like candy. The tube is like a hexagon.”

“That one?” You point to the tube on the nightstand and she nods, reaching over to pluck it and give it to you. Once you take it, her hands are on your thighs again, massaging and sinking her fingers into your skin.

It’s your Fenty Beauty lip gloss, Fu$$y.

“Do you want this one or this one?” You reach for the brown gloss, Hot Chocolit, from the same brand. “I think this one would look good on you, too.”

“That one,” Sevika nods to the brown gloss and you hum. You set the other gloss down and go to reach for your setting spray.

Sevika closes her eyes before even being told, already picking up what the product does. You smile and apply it, spraying generously before drying it thoroughly. She opened her eyes to glance at your face while you did so and you felt a soft smile creep around your lips.

“What is it?” you ask after a quiet moment, setting the envelope down after her face is fully dried.

“You’re so pretty,” She hums, a low sound that rumbles at her chest.

“So are you,” You smile as you apply the gloss to her lips, biting your lip in concentration. “All done!” You cap the gloss and set it beside you.

She lets your thighs go and you slowly stand and stretch. Your legs had been tucked at either side of her while you worked. You hadn’t moved an inch and now you felt it on your numb butt.

“What do you think?” You ask as she looks at the mirror.

Sevika goes quiet, eyes trailing her face. She can feel how heavy everything is because she is not used to it but she thinks she looks…pretty, for once. Her dark circles are hidden, the shimmer looks nice and you have even tried your best to keep it simple for her sake, too.

“ ‘s okay,” She shrugs, draping an arm around your shoulder and going to kiss your temple.

“You’re going to smear the gloss,” You whine as there’s now an evident lip-shaped mark on your skin.

“You do it all the time to me,” a kiss to the center of your forehead. “So suck it up, angel.”

“As long as you let me take pictures, too,” You smile innocently.

Sevika huffs and runs her fingers through her hair. “Fine, but don’t go fucking posting these everywhere.”

“I swear,” You say as you take way too many pictures of your girlfriend’s pretty face all done up in makeup.

Her face in your hand, just smiling at you. Some even of her mid-arguing about something or blurry but you didn’t delete a single one.

“My pretty girl,” You whisper against her mouth when she leans down to kiss you. She grumbles and kisses you again, in order to distract the way her heart leaped at the softness of your words.

Shameless plug to Fenty Beauty bc I am obsessed with my lipgloss. My all-time favorite.

[bingbongsupremacy]

Hey I saw your old post asking which fanfics you should do next. I know it didn’t win but could you please please please do “Tell Me You Love Me Again” with Eddie. Im in dire need of some good angst ❤️

Tell Me You Love Me Again

Sorry this took me so long to write! I have had some massive writer's block. Hopefully, this is okay!

Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x reader

Story Type: Angst

Warning: Y/N use, swearing, Eddie's a bit of a greedy ass ngl

Summary: You've been with Eddie since before he was famous. It used to be a loving relationship. As the years have passed, things have changed. Can you save the dying spark between you?

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□

"Baby, you wanted to talk. Why are we just sitting here in silence?" Eddie asks with a grin. He casually flips through a music magazine, observing all of the new instruments for sale.

I take a deep breath. How do I even start this conversation? He's been so busy launching his band's new line of merch that I doubt this is a great time to talk about our relationship. Who knows when we'll have another opportunity? This is the first time I've been able to see him privately in weeks. I don't know how long I can keep harboring my frustrations.

"We do need to talk...here goes nothing." I sigh. "It's about our relationship."

Eddie pulls his eyes away from his magazine, his smile fading into a serious expression. "What about it?"

"I've been feeling very frustrated lately. I feel like you're never home, and I never get to see you anymore. I miss you." I reply honestly.

Eddie sets the magazine on top of the coffee table that separates us. "I know it's been busy lately, but it's great for us! Now I can take you anywhere you want to go. Name any place, and I can bring you there." Eddie's playful smile returns.

I let out a tired laugh. "Eddie, that's nice and all, but the problem is you don't have the time to take me anywhere I want to go. I just want you to dial it back a bit, please. Spend more time with me, and I'm sure Wayne would love it if you spent some time with him, too."

I'm not even sure if Eddie has time to call Wayne anymore. I might be the only one talking to him regularly.

"I spend plenty of time with Wayne." Eddie's expression is slightly offended.

"It's just the past year; you've rarely been back. Can't you take some time off? Cancel a few tour dates or reschedule some photoshoots?"

"I can't just abandon my career, Y/N. My band has worked so hard for this." Eddie argues. "It wouldn't be fair to the boys."

"What about what's fair to me, Eddie?" I let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm not asking you to abandon anything, Eddie. I just think you should prioritize our relationship a little more. We barely see each other anymore!" My heart pounds. "When you're not on tour, you're constantly doing promotional videos or photoshoots. We haven't gone on a date in almost a month."

My flurry of emotions has caused tears to prick the back of my eyes. Fuck, I can't cry right now.

Eddie's shoulders are tense. His usual animated and playful exterior is replaced with a frustrated and angry one. One I rarely see, especially not when talking to me.

"That's part of the job. I'm a fucking rockstar, Y/N. I can't exactly blow off the world tours and photoshoots. My label and manager expects me to get shit out quickly. You don't understand! The moment I stop making songs and producing new shit, the moment all of this, " He gestures around the room to all of his expensive nicknacks and furniture. "disappears. I'll become irrelevant. My band will become irrelevant. This is my life, Y/N. And you're going to need to learn to accept it."

My frown deepens. "Do you hear yourself? How can you not see how greedy you're becoming? What happened to just loving music? Loving the art of creating, no matter how many people heard. When did this all become about money?" I stand up from my spot on Eddie's couch, needing to put some distance between myself and the man. I avoid making eye contact with him, knowing if I do, I'll burst into tears.

This room suddenly feels so suffocating. "Is this really all you care about? How many shows you can sell out? How deep your pockets can get?"

"For fucks sake, Y/N." Eddie groans as he leans back against his recliner. His head hits the back of the seat, an annoyed expression flashing across his face. "You're being so fucking dramatic."

I shake my head. "This is not what I signed up for. You are not the man I signed up to be with."

Eddie stiffens. Hurt crosses his eyes. His face turns stoic as he looks me dead in the eye. A dark anger replaces his hurt. "Things change. People change. Obviously, I've changed. If you hate me so fucking much, why don't you get the fuck out and find someone new? Someone who better suits your lifestyle since you're not happy with me."

I freeze. My heart drops at his bitter words. He's never spoken to me like this before.

He's so different than the man I fell in love with all those years ago. Life seemed simpler in Hawkins. I'd work the night shift at The Hideout and he'd play with his band. I was able to see him regularly while he was still able to do what he loved. No massive world tours to separate us for months. No partying until early the next day. Just the two of us, supporting each other and doing what we loved.

I feel my cheeks heat from embarrassment and anger. He's right. He's changed, and it's obviously been for the worse. "You know what, you're right."

Eddie's eyes widen slightly in surprise, like he didn't think I'd agree.

"You don't want to work this out like an adult, so I'm going to leave. We're done, Eddie. I can't do this anymore. I deserve someone willing to set aside time for me. I shouldn't be the only one giving 100% to the relationship. I need someone who respects me and what I need. You can't give that to me." I grab my purse from the couch. I pause right before I reach the door. " Eddie, " I turn to look back at the man.

He doesn't meet my gaze. His eyes are trained on his locked hands. He looks like he's in disbelief.

"I hope you find what you're looking for. Just know that you'll never have enough money or fame to please yourself. Materialistic things can only bring you so much happiness. You'll suffer until you realize that. I just hope it isn't too late when you finally do."

With that, I leave the apartment. As soon as the door behind me clicks shut, the tears begin to fall. I lean against the wall near Eddie's door and wrap my arms around myself for some sort of support.

I wish he loved me enough to apologize. I wish he would come out here, tell me he was wrong, and that he was going to try to fix things.

I finally garner the strength to push away from Eddie's wall and make my way downstairs. With every step, I think of new things I wish Eddie would do.

When I take my last step out of the apartment building, disappointment settles in my chest as I realize none of my wishes came true.

Eddie's a rockstar. He'll never love me as much as he loves his lifestyle.

I was stupid to think he'd always be the man I fell in love with in Hawkins, Indiana.

[christopher-bangnaldoskzz]

This is 1000% a rewrite of this series, I read through it recently to refresh my memory of the story and I actually died a little inside knowing this is how I wrote 3 years ago 😅 I deeply apologise so please this is my redemption post.

Soft Dom Bangchan x Female Reader Sub!

Genre: Dark Romance

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: No warnings yet, however, I am going to say this is strictly 18+ MDNI fan fiction.

Summary: In a world where submissives crave dominance and dominants seek out their submissives, a thrilling tension brews when deep emotions start to intertwine with binding contracts. What happens when the lines blur between desire and duty? Can a contract stay just a contract when the flames of passion ignite? As love weaves its way into the dynamic, are they prepared to face the tumultuous journey of balancing hearts and agreements? The stakes have never been higher—will they surrender to love, or will they fight to keep it in check?

A/N: would also like to dedicate this story to @daceydeath, thank you for always putting up with my deluluness, also thank you for putting up with my drama fill life honestly. I wouldn’t be still writing if it wasn’t for you encouraging me.

Chapter One

 

"Are you out of your mind, Grace?" you respond, a mix of disbelief and amusement in your voice. Surely, this can’t be serious—she must be joking, right?

 

"Absolutely, I mean it." She was your sole ally in this vast world, and there was something undeniably captivating about her dominant nature.

 

“What!.noooo, please, I’m not looking for one at the moment,” you replied, trying to sound convincing, although deep down, you knew it was a lie. The truth was you did desire a Dom to share laughs, experiences, and quiet moments with. However, the thought of finding a random guy on the internet made you feel uneasy.

 

Grace was aware of your past experiences and the fears that lingered from them. Your last relationship had left a sour taste in your mouth; he had been a bit too rough, disregarding the boundaries you tried to set. You often replayed those uncomfortable moments in your mind, unsure if you were ready to open yourself up to someone new. The idea of stepping back into the BDSM world felt daunting, and the online scene was even more intimidating. You longed for a genuine connection, but the anxiety of navigating it all made you hesitate.

 

"I have found a guy I think you will like...he classifies himself as a soft Dom, “As she spoke, her fingers quickly navigated her phone's screen until she found the image she was looking for. With a proud smile, she turned the device towards you, revealing a clear picture of the guy. His features were sharp and striking, framed by tousled hair that suggested a carefree spirit, and his expression was one of warm confidence. You could see the way his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, instantly drawing you in as she eagerly awaited your reaction.

 

You look closely at the profile photos. He catches your eye. "Grace, please tell me you haven't messaged him?" You watch her mouth curl into a mischievous grin. 

 

"He's here right now." She was such an asshole for doing this to you. "Okay, behave,” she warns, her teeth clenched tightly. With a mix of tension and determination, the young man strides toward the table, his expression revealing a blend of nervousness and curiosity.

 

"Umm, hi," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hint of nervousness in his voice. You glance up from your spot, and there, standing before you, a man of about 5 feet 7 inches tall. His brown hair is slightly tousled, falling just above his expressive brow. But it’s his eyes that truly captivate you—rich, warm brown, like molten chocolate, drawing you in with an intensity you didn’t expect. As he awkwardly chuckles, a shy smile breaks across his face, revealing a deep dimple in his left cheek, and he shifts his weight before sitting down beside you. The air feels charged with an unspoken connection, and you can’t help but feel your heart flutter at this unexpected encounter.

 

"Hello, I'm Chan," he said, extending his hand with a warm smile that momentarily lit up the elegant room. But as he leaned in closer to introduce himself the glass of red wine that grace, had ordered from the bar tipped over, spilling its contents across his Fendi black suit.

 

"Oh no, not again," he exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise as he quickly lifted the glass, but it was too late. The dark crimson liquid soaked into the fabric, threatening to leave a permanent stain.

 

Almost instantly, a waiter in a crisp white shirt and black bow tie appeared by your side, looking flustered. "I'm so sorry, sir," he said, his face flushed with embarrassment as he bent down to help with the clean-up. He hurriedly grabbed a stack of napkins and began to dab at the fabric, his movements quick but careful.

 

"We will get you another glass," the waiter added, waving his hand to signal the bartender to come over and replace the drink.

 

Chan shook his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes despite the situation. "No, no, it's quite alright, truly. This was all my fault. I really don’t need another glass, thank you," he replied, waving dismissively.

 

His gaze shifted back to you, and he hesitated for a moment before continuing. "But perhaps, miss—" He glanced at you with an inquisitive expression, silently asking for your last name to complete his introduction.

 

"Y/L/N," you replied with a playful smile, confidently shaking your head. "But no, thank you—I don't drink," you said, watching as the waiter redirected his attention to the bartender.

 

A soft "good girl" slipped from Chan's lips just as he attempted to wipe the wine stain off his jacket.

 

"Wait, don’t rub it! Dab… let me handle that," you said, leaning in closer, the thrill of the moment pulsating in the air. He met your gaze, his eyes lingering on you, drawn in by the tantalising view.

 

He carefully extended the jacket towards you, his fingers brushing against the fabric as he offered it. "Thank you, but you really don’t have to go through all this trouble," you replied, though your hands had already instinctively reached for the coat. With a napkin soaked in water from your glass, you began gently dabbing at the dark stain that marred the material.

 

He watched you intently, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "It’s important to act quickly; it stops the mark from spreading," you explained, your voice calm yet serious.

 

Just then, Grace, with a resigned sigh, pulled the clasp of her handbag shut with a decisive snap. "Well, this is off to a swimming start… I think I shall be heading out now," she announced, her tone laced with Amusement. Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she made her way toward the restaurant door, her exit as swift as the unfolding drama around you.

 

"I'm really sorry she had you come all the way out here just to meet me," you said, brushing your hair back to clear your view.

 

He glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his wide eyes. "Honestly, I'm not," he replied, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

 

You caught his gaze and offered the jacket, carefully passing it back to him. "Just remember to use some stain remover when you get home. Let it sit for about 20 minutes, then give it a soak."

 

He grinned, taking the jacket, placing it behind him. "Stain remover, let it sit, then soak—got it! Thanks for the tip!"

 

"So, have you visited this place before?" he asked, a nervous itch at his shoulder blades giving away how he was feeling.

 

Leaning in closer, you locked eyes with him, feeling the weight of the moment. "I'm going to cut to the chase," you said, your voice low and confident. "I know Grace mentioned that I’m looking for a dom, but honestly, after our conversation, I don’t think your quite suited for that role."

 

Chan raised an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief curling his lips into a smirk. "Oh really? … What makes you think that?" His sudden loss of composure intrigued you, a thrill running down your spine as you recognised the shift in his demeanour.

 

With a playful giggle, you tilted your head slightly. "Well, for starters, you seem to be struggling to keep it all together," you teased, enjoying the way his confidence wavered under your gaze.

 

He chuckled, a charming smile spreading across his face as he glanced back down at his menu, the playful banter intensifying the electric tension between you. "Well… you might just have to be the one to keep it together for both of us," he replied, a glint of mischief lighting his eyes.

 

Curiosity bubbled up inside you as you contemplated where to go from here. With a gracious smile, you leaned back slightly, wanting to gauge his reaction. "Should we hit the reset button on this conversation?" you asked, your voice infused with intrigue. It was clear he was not one to back down easily; the playful challenge hung in the air, inviting exploration.

 

"I'm Y/N," you said with a warm smile as you extended your hand, ready for a handshake.

 

"Chan… or you can call me Chris for now," he responded, his eyes locking onto yours as he firmly grasped your hand. There was something reassuring in his grip, a blend of confidence and approachability. "So, tell me, Y/N… what do you like to eat? It's on me, obviously," he added, a playful smirk spreading across his face as if relishing the chance to treat you.

 

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in your eyes. "Hmmm, if you're paying… I think I might just go for the lobster." A grin broke across your face, the thought of indulging in a luxurious meal making your stomach flutter with anticipation. He chuckled softly, seemingly unfazed by your choice, his gaze wandering back to the menu as he scanned the options with a thoughtful expression.

 

Suddenly, the same waiter who had attended to you earlier approached your table, a notepad in hand and a charming smile on his face. "Are you ready to order?" he asked, his tone professional yet friendly, clearly accustomed to the rhythm of the restaurant. The atmosphere was filled with the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of dishes.

 

“I’ll have the eye fillet” Chan said, flashing a warm smile as he looked up at you, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

 

"And Y/N will have the lobster, right?" he added, confidently placing the order for you. The thought of him being willing to pay for your $100 lobster meal sent a thrill through you, a mix of excitement and disbelief.

 

"Oh yes, please!" you replied, returning his smile with one of your own, sweet, and grateful as you addressed the waiter. He nodded politely, jotted down your orders, and then disappeared into the bustling atmosphere of the restaurant, leaving you and Chan in a cosy bubble.

 

"You honestly didn't have to order me lobster... I could have picked something else," you admitted, leaning in closer to him, the intimacy of the moment warming your cheeks.

 

Chan leaned in too, a mischievous glint in his eye as he lowered his voice slightly, creating an air of secrecy between you. "The truth is… I'm secretly hoping you don't eat it all so I can have some." The playful confession made your heart flutter; you loved how he relaxed in your company, the tension that once lingered starting to fade away.

 

"Maybe Grace was right about you," you teased, taking a sip of your water, savouring the cool refreshment as you tried to read the expression on his face, delighting in the rapport that seemed to blossom effortlessly between you two.

 

"Oh, you think so... hmmm, interesting," he said, leaning back in his chair, his fingers interlaced thoughtfully. “So why did you leave your last dom?” His gaze was steady, encouraging you to share more.

 

“He uhhhh... he was a sadist,” you began, you voice trailing off as memories flooded back. “I left him because he burnt me pretty bad." The weight of your confession hung in the air, a heavy reminder of a past that felt both distant and achingly close. As you recalled those terrifying times, it felt as though it all happened just yesterday; the emotional scars still fresh in your mind, a painful reminder of a relationship that had spiralled out of control.

 

 

"How severe is it?" His voice carried an undertone of concern, mixed with a curious edge that hinted he was trying to grasp just how serious the situation really was. The furrow in his brow and the intensity in his gaze suggested he braced himself for an answer that could change everything.

 

"Let's just say my back tells a story, “You replied, your tone deliberately flat. The scars weren't merely physical; they were haunting reminders of a past you rarely revealed. You wondered if he would probe deeper or gracefully allow this moment to linger in silence.

 

"So, fire is definitely a hard boundary for you, then?" His voice softened, now cautious as he delicately navigated a sensitive topic. It was evident he wanted to understand your limits without pushing you into uncomfortable territory.

 

"Yes, absolutely," you replied, a slow smile breaking through as you started to warm to the idea of Chris as your master.

 

"Noted," he said, folding his arms thoughtfully. "Did he ever mention anything about being into sadism?"

 

"No, not at all. He started off charming and sweet. I never would have agreed to play if I’d known. But over time, as our relationship deepened, his obsession with sadism began to surface."

 

"I'm truly sorry he treated you that way," Chris said softly, his voice filled with empathy as he reached across the table to take your hand in his. His gaze was intense, penetrating your eyes as if searching for a connection. "But if you decide to be with me…I promise I will never put you in a position like that." There was sincerity in his tone that made your heart flutter.

 

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you. "But it's your turn now," you said, eager to learn more about him. "Why did you leave your last partner?"

 

A flicker of vulnerability crossed his face. "She left me... There were just certain expectations I couldn't fulfil, things she wanted from me that I couldn't overcome," he explained, his voice tinged with regret. "We came to the conclusion that it was best for her to move on." The admission stirred some unease within you, prompting you to dig deeper. "So, it sounds like… you weren't firm enough for her?"

 

A nervous tension sparked in the air as he pulled his hand away, his expression shifting as if he were retreating into himself. Just then, the waiter approached with the meals, momentarily breaking the atmosphere.

 

"Excuse me, sir… would you mind placing both meals in the centre of the table?" you asked, giving the waiter a warm, inviting smile. He nodded in agreement, carefully setting down the beautifully plated steak and lobster in front of you.

 

"Thank you so much. I truly appreciate it," you said, watching the waiter depart with satisfaction. As you turned back to Chris, you noticed a flicker of admiration in his eyes.

 

"Here, allow me," you offered, excitedly reaching for a lobster tail. With deft movements, you placed it beside the generous steak. You then sliced the steak in half, transferring one piece onto the lobster plate. After artfully arranging lobster tails atop the steak, you drizzled luscious lobster sauce over the entire presentation.

 

Once you had skilfully crafted the dish, you presented it to Chris, who looked genuinely captivated, his eyes wide in disbelief.

 

As he snapped out of his daze, a soft chuckle escaped your lips. "I believe they call this surf and turf."

 

His smile faltered, replaced with a thoughtful expression. "Thank you. I must be honest with you… I would like to discuss the possibility of a contract."

 

Chan POV

 

"Chan, come on, you really have to move on from Vanessa," Changbin asserted as he dramatically dropped onto the well-worn studio couch, the cushions sinking under his weight.

 

"I’ve moved on, seriously," I scoffed, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

 

"Then what’s the big deal about going on this date?" Changbin asked, tilting his head slightly and shifting to the edge of the couch, his curiosity evident in his expression.

 

"I don’t know, man... I’m just nervous," I admitted, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "What if she doesn’t like me? What if it all goes wrong? She doesn’t even know it’s supposed to be a date," I continued, my voice trailing off as I felt the weight of uncertainty settle in my chest. As I spoke, Changbin began packing up his headphones, clearly trying to focus on my dilemma.

 

Changbin was staring at me, his brow slightly furrowed and his eyes wide with confusion, as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle that didn’t quite fit.

 

"It's someone that Grace arranged for me to go on a date with," I explained, trying to keep the details vague. I didn't want to delve into the specifics of how the matchmaking had come about or share my mixed feelings about it.

 

"Oh, your hot friend Grace," he said with a smile. If only he knew what she was like, she would eat him alive. "When are you planning to hook me up with her?" he continued.

 

"I'm not… you're not her type" I mean, I wasn't lying. She liked women. 

 

"You just want her all to yourself," he said, his voice laced with a hint of jealousy as he fixed his gaze on the ground, his brow furrowing slightly.

 

"Anyway," I replied, meeting his eyes with a light smile, trying to shift the conversation away from the tension. "What do you think I should wear? We’re going to a really fancy restaurant, and I want to look the part."

 

He paused for a moment, considering my question, before finally saying, "Your black suit is stylish. It always fits you perfectly."

 

 

……

 

This brings me to the point where I find myself saying, "I would really like to offer you a contract," and I can't help but wonder, Chan, why do you always act this way? She barely knows you, and here you are, making a complete spectacle of yourself. I couldn't help but notice the advice about the stained shirt—I mean, it was a bold move on her part to share that with me. And the way she offered me half of her food was so generous. I realise that if I don't seize this opportunity now, I might never encounter another submissive like her again.

 

She smiled politely, a hint of amusement in her eyes, and replied, "I'm flattered…but don't you think you should get to know me a bit better first?" As she said this, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her gesture both casual and intimate, making me realise just how much I wanted to learn more about her.

 

"I'll be right back," I promised, glancing at her as a smile spread across her face. I knew that Vannesa always kept a stash of hair ties in my car, a little quirk of hers that I had come to appreciate. With a quick stride, I made my way to the parking lot, the cool evening air brushing against my skin.

 

Once I reached my car, I opened the glove compartment with a soft click. Inside, neatly tucked away among a few scattered receipts and an old parking ticket, were the hair ties — a colorful assortment that Vanessa loved. I picked out a bright pink one, its elastic still strong and ready for action.

 

"Perfect," I murmured to myself as I closed the compartment and locked my car's door. I turned and made my way back to the restaurant, my heart a little lighter with each step.

 

As I re-entered the warm, inviting space filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses, I spotted Y/N sitting at our table, her hair slightly tousled. "Here," I said, extending the pink hair tie toward her. "Please… take this."

 

Her eyes sparkled with delight as she reached for it, the tension in her features easing with a grateful smile. In that moment, I could see how the small gesture meant the world to her.

 

A faint blush crept across her cheeks as she glanced down, an awkward smile breaking through her initial embarrassment. "Oh wow, thank you… I, umm, totally forgot to bring mine," she admitted, her voice light yet laced with a hint of self-consciousness.

 

I chuckled softly, remembering my own past. "You know, my ex used to always keep spare hair ties in the glove compartment of the car. I completely forgot they were even there until I saw you struggling with your hair," As I spoke, I took a decisive cut into the perfectly cooked steak on my plate, savouring the moment while trying to ease her discomfort.

 

"Well, thank you," she replied, returning my gaze with a warm smile.

 

As she tied her hair up, I couldn't help but notice how the sleek strands came together in a polished ponytail, accentuating the graceful curve of her neck. There was something undeniably captivating about her look, and I found myself drawn to the way the lighting caught her hair, making it shimmer. "I really like you with your hair up," I remarked, feeling a rush of warmth spread across my cheeks as her eyes lit up with my compliment. Her smile widened, and in that moment, the world around us seemed to fade away.

 

……

 

 As I glanced down at my watch, the glowing numbers caught my eye, and a sense of urgency washed over me. The night had slipped away faster than I had anticipated.

 

"Well, Chris…" she said softly, a hint of reluctance in her voice as she reached across the small table to grasp my hand. Her touch was warm and grounding, making it difficult for me to let go of the moment.

 

"I'll walk you to the car," I replied, hoping to prolong our time together just a little longer. After settling the bill, I led the way out of the cosy restaurant, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the sidewalk.

 

As we walked beside each other, the cool evening air wrapped around us, filled with the faint sounds of laughter and clinking glasses from nearby establishments. We made our way around the corner, where her car was parked under a lamppost, the light casting a gentle glow over its sleek silhouette. I couldn't help but steal glances at her as we walked, cherishing each second of this fleeting encounter.

 

"Thank you for tonight," she said with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with the soft glow of the overhead lights. "I assume Grace gave you, my number?" She laughed lightly, the sound as familiar as a favourite song. She and Grace had a long-standing friendship, a connection that made me feel a little more at ease.

 

"Yeah, she texted it to me during dinner," I replied, chuckling in return.

 

"Well… call me, please," she continued, her voice shifting from casual to something more serious yet undeniably inviting. There was a warmth in her tone that caught me off guard. "I'd love to discuss your proposal." Did I really hear that correctly? Did she just express genuine interest in talking about the contract? My heart raced at the thought, the prospect electrifying.

 

In that fleeting moment, I felt a powerful surge of desire to convey just how much she intrigued me. I could almost visualise those soft, inviting lips of hers brushing against mine, the warmth of our kiss igniting something deep within. Yet, amidst that longing, a voice of caution echoed in my mind, reminding me that rushing into anything too quickly could scare her off. I took a deep, steadying breath, trying to find the right balance between my yearning and the need to nurture a genuine connection.

 

"You can kiss me, Chris," she said with a playful smile, her hand resting lightly on my chest, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I gently tilted her chin upward, ensuring our eyes locked in a moment that felt suspended in time. With a soft, steadying breath, I leaned in, my lips hovering tantalizingly close to hers. "I will, but only when you sign that contract, missy," I teased, a playful smile breaking on my lips as I held her gaze, savouring the tension that crackled between us.

 

Y/N  POV

 

You couldn't believe it, but Grace was right about him. As he strolled away towards his car, a warm smile spread across your face, a blend of excitement and disbelief. Everything about him seemed to resonate with you, from the way he carried himself to the charming glint in his eyes that sparked a quiet hope for what might unfold.

 

Just as you were lost in your thoughts, your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you back to reality.

 

**Ting Ting**

 

An unknown number flashed on the screen, and with a curious frown, you opened the message. It read: 

 

"Meet me at my office on Monday at 9 a.m. (address included). We will discuss the contract terms then - Master."

 

Y/N 

"Yes, sir, I look forward to it." 

………

 

Sunday morning dawns, and you are jolted awake by an insistent pounding on your door. Groggily rubbing your eyes, you mutter, "Jesus Christ," to yourself as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and shuffle toward the door.

 

Swinging it open, you find Grace standing there, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Oh good, you’re up!" she exclaims, brushing past you into the apartment without a second thought. "So, how did the date turn out with Chris? Isn’t he just delicious?"

 

Sitting down on the couch with a resigned sigh, you can't help but smile at her excitement. "He’s nice," you reply, playing with the hem of your shirt. "But... he’s an absolute mess." You lean back against the cushions, recalling the chaos of the evening you just survived. Grace plops down next to you, eager for the full story.

 

"Look, I know Chan pretty well," she said, settling onto the couch with a decisive thud. "He was a bit nervous earlier, which is unusual for him. You must understand, he’s a very sought-after dom in our community. He doesn't just take on any submissive; he’s quite selective. If he's offering you a contract, trust me, you should seriously consider it."

 

Curiosity piqued, I leaned in and asked, "What makes him so special?"

 

She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my question. "Excuse me? He is the perfect dom…. If you're looking for a soft pleasure dom, he's one of the absolute best out there."

 

My mind raced as I processed that. "Wait, he’s a pleasure dom?" It felt like an incredible revelation. Pleasure doms are rare gems in this community, and to hear about one of his calibres was intriguing. It's no wonder he had such high demand—his reputation preceded him.

 

"Absolutely, big time," she affirmed, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "He hasn’t had a submissive for over eight months now, which is practically an eternity for him. I’ve never seen him so anxious about meeting someone before. He must really like you—there's no other explanation for his nerves! So, when does he want you to sit down and discuss the details of the contract?"

 

"Tomorrow," you said, turning towards her. Suddenly you feel nervous. What if you can't please him like he wants. 

 

“Shit, he’s moving fast,” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief. She shook her head, her brow furrowing as thoughts raced through her mind. “Look, nobody knows Chan like I do… There’s no way he’d just turn around and ask a girl he met to sign a contract like that.”

 

Her tone shifted, urgency seeping into her words. “So, what should I do, Grace?” you asked, anxiety creeping into your voice.

 

“Listen to me… You need to hear him out, alright?” She leaned in closer, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Do you trust me?”

 

“Yeah,” you replied, your gaze unwavering as you searched her eyes for assurance.

 

“Good girl,” she said, a sultry undertone lacing her words, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips, as if she knew she had you right where she wanted you.

 

………

**Monday**

 

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you took a deep breath, your fingers carefully wrapping a curling wand around a lock of hair. “Why am I so nervous?” you muttered, forcing yourself to focus on your reflection. The soft morning light streamed through the window, highlighting the mix of excitement and anxiety etched across your features.

 

“Okay, Y/N… You’ve done this before,” you reassured yourself, smoothing down the front of your blouse. “Just strike out what you’re not comfortable with.” You ran through your mental checklist, contemplating the plans for the evening, and mentally discarding any doubts that surfaced.

 

Finally, satisfied with your appearance, you grabbed your handbag—a sleek black purse that felt just right in your hand—and headed for the door, taking one last glance back at your apartment. With a quick exhale, you stepped outside into the crisp air, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach.

 

As you approached the curb, your heart raced a little faster. There, parked majestically in front of your building, was a black Range Rover. Standing beside it was Chris, an easy smile lighting up his face as he spotted you. “Oh good… I was afraid you wouldn't show up,” he chuckled, his warm demeanour instantly easing some of the tension you felt. The sound of his voice made you grin.

 

"So, you actually came to pick me up?" you inquired, your voice laced with curiosity as you approached him.

 

Chris stepped aside with a flourish, swinging open the door of his sleek black car. "After you," he replied, a hint of mischief in his eyes. You couldn’t help but wonder what had prompted this unexpected gesture. Wasn’t he supposed to have his own driver? The thought lingered as you climbed into the plush leather seat, the scent of fresh upholstery filling your senses.

 

Inside the car, an uncomfortable silence settled between you, heavy with unspoken words. You caught glimpses of the city lights reflecting in the windows, your mind racing as you tried to make sense of the situation. Just as the tension began to feel unbearable, Chris reached over, his hand enveloping yours with a warmth that both surprised and calmed you. He threaded his fingers through yours, creating an unbreakable connection. "You don't have to be a nervous baby girl," he said, his tone both gentle and commanding.

 

You let out a nervous chuckle, shaking your legs to release the anxious energy coursing through you. "I can't help it," you admitted, feeling the flutter of excitement and anxiety battling within.

 

"Spot that," he said, his voice taking on a stern edge as he fixed his gaze on the road ahead. There was a seriousness in his tone that made your heart race, but a part of you felt comforted, knowing he was there.

 

You sit perfectly still in the passenger seat, fixing your gaze straight ahead, your heart racing as you decide to remain silent for the remainder of the drive to his office. The moment you arrive, the name "JYP Entertainment" slips from your lips, your tone laced with surprise and intrigue.

 

With a playful chuckle, Chris swings open the car door and steps out, the sound of the vehicle’s door closing echoing in the quiet lot.

 

“Here, allow me to help,” he offers, extending his hand toward you with a warm, inviting smile. You can feel a slight flutter in your stomach as he firmly locks his fingers around yours.

 

He leads you through the entrance of the building, its sleek, modern design taking your breath away. "I've booked a meeting room for us," he states, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. You can’t help but notice the briefcase he holds, its professional elegance hinting at the serious nature of the meeting ahead.

 

"This way," he continues, his voice bright with enthusiasm, as he guides you toward the elevator. The polished metal doors slide open, and you step inside, both of you sharing a moment of anticipation as the elevator begins its ascent.

 

As the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, you stepped inside alongside him, feeling the heat of his presence nearby. His hand trailed along your lower back, a gentle yet possessive gesture that sent a shiver down your spine.

 

The soft hum of the building faded away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble once again. You settled into a chair, the plush fabric contrasting the excitement that swirled in your stomach, while he turned to pour you a cup of water from a sleek glass pitcher on the table.

 

“have some water,” he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind, echoing authority that sent your heart racing.

 

With a playful glimmer in your eyes, you shot back, “You’re not my dom yet, Chris… I don’t have to listen to you.” Your tone carried a cheeky defiance, a challenge laced with a hint of flirtation.

 

In response, he leaned closer, closing the distance between you until he was mere inches from your face. His breath tickled your ear as he whispered, “Do you want to repeat that?” The thrill of his proximity made your pulse quicken, mixing a touch of mischief with a growing sense of exhilaration that hung heavily in the air.

 

You take a gentle sip of water, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat as you try to quell the anticipation bubbling within you. He leans closer, his presence both comforting and electrifying. "That's my good girl," he murmurs, pressing a soft, tender kiss just below your ear. The warmth of his lips against your skin sends an involuntary shiver cascading down your body, igniting a thrill that dances through you.

 

"Alright… shall we get started?" he asks, shifting into a more businesslike demeanour as he settles down next to you. With deft movements, he opens his briefcase, revealing a neatly organised array of documents inside.

 

He pulls out two contracts, the crisp paper brimming with promises and stipulations. "Let's begin with the limits," he states, his voice steady as he hands one of the contracts to you. With a flick of his wrist, he opens his copy, revealing a series of terms and agreements laid out before him. "I took the liberty of striking out fire," he says, glancing at you to gauge your reaction.

 

You nod appreciatively, feeling a sense of control in the negotiation. "Okay, also animal and age play… those need to go as well," you respond assertively, catching his eye momentarily. There's a moment of understanding between you two—a silent assurance that both of you are on the same page. "And you should add… I will not refer to you as anything other than Chan, Chris, Master, or Sir."

 

He smiles as he acknowledges your added stipulation, a glint of approval in his eyes. "Okay, yeah, that works for me," he replies, his tone lightening with the shift in energy. Then, with a teasing lilt, he leans slightly closer and raises an eyebrow at you, asking without words if you have any further limitations in mind. "Sooooo noooo..." His playful inflection hangs in the air, inviting a deeper exploration of the intricate boundaries you’re both establishing.

 

“No use of the word 'Daddy,'” you say with a slight frown, your eyes narrowing playfully.

 

“Okay, okay, that’s fine with me,” he replies, raising both hands in mock surrender, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

 

Curiosity piqued; you lean in closer to examine the document spread out on the table. “What is this down here… am I meant to move in with you?” The words hang in the air, and you can’t help but feel your pulse quicken at the thought.

 

“Uh, well… only if you want to,” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. He reaches for a pen, ready to strike that line out, but you swiftly grab his hand, squeezing it gently to stop him.

 

“How about we start with just weekends, okay? Besides,” you add with a teasing grin, “I have to work during the week.”

 

Chris's expression brightens at your decision. The tension eases, replaced by a shared excitement as he nods, clearly pleased with the compromise.

 

……

 

As the hours ticked by and you delved deeper into the intricacies of the contract, a sense of comfort began to wash over you. Chris had truly anticipated every detail, which was both reassuring and exciting. Eager to break the silence, you turned to him and asked, “How long have you been a master?”

 

A warm smile spread across his face, and he met your gaze with a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “I’ve been a master for five years now," he replied, his tone light yet filled with a hint of nostalgia. He looked away for a moment, as if lost in a memory, before continuing, “Before that, I was a sub.”

 

“Oh, really?” you interjected, genuinely intrigued. “What made you decide to make that transition?”

 

A soft chuckle escaped him, and he leaned back slightly, his demeanour becoming more relaxed as he reminisced. “It was my dom… She inspired me in ways I never expected. She was incredibly smart and stunningly beautiful, but she had this fierce temper that kept everyone on their toes,” he admitted, the warmth of his memories evident in his voice.

 

You leaned in a little closer, your heart racing with anticipation. “So, is that what I can expect from you?” you challenged playfully, feeling a flush of excitement as you pressed your legs together tightly. The prospect of uncovering more about Chris and what it meant to be under his guidance stirred a rush within you.

 

"I make it my priority to be fair in all situations," he states, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "But I must warn you upfront—I only provide one chance when it comes to behaviour. If you test the limits, punishment will follow, and trust me, I don't take chatting back lightly." He observes you closely, noticing the hint of mischief in your eyes that suggests a bratty side lurking beneath the surface.

 

"Oh really? Hmmmm... that sounds intriguing. Have you ever successfully tamed a brat before?" you reply, your voice laced with seductive curiosity, a challenge glimmering in your eyes.

 

"I have," he replies, his tone firm yet teasing. "Just remember, even though I have a softer approach as a dominant, I won’t tolerate bad attitudes for long." He continues flicking through the contract, his focus partially on the words, but mostly on you.

 

"I wouldn't dream of testing you, sir," you say, a slight smirk playing on your lips. Chris's expression shifts at your use of "sir," a flicker of interest igniting in his eyes.

 

"I'd love to see your house before I sign the contract," you add, your tone growing more enticing.

 

"Absolutely," he replies, gripping the paper tightly, his curiosity piqued. "Do you have time to check it out right now?" He leans forward, eager to show you more than just the words on the page.

"I actually need to go to work", you smiled. Very convenient timing. 

 

“Perfect, I’ll drop you off,” he said with a tone that caught you off guard. You felt a rush of heat spread through you; after all, you worked at a sex shop, and the last thing you wanted was for him to discover that little secret in such an unexpected manner.

 

With a gentle smile, he led you down the path to the car, his presence both reassuring and slightly intimidating. As he opened the passenger door, you hesitated for just a moment before sliding into the plush seat. The driver, who had been waiting patiently, turned to you expectantly as you recited the address.

 

As you spoke, you glanced over to find Chris looking increasingly astonished. “You mean the sex shop on the corner?” he asked, his eyes widening in disbelief.

 

A light laugh escaped your lips, barely able to conceal the amusement bubbling within you. “Yeah, is that a problem?” You tried to keep your tone light and playful, enjoying the unexpected turn of events.

 

He shook his head, attempting to maintain an air of nonchalance, though you noticed the hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Nope… not at all,” he replied, though the way he fidgeted with his hands and avoided your gaze gave away his intrigue. You could tell he was trying to play it cool, but it was hard to miss the excitement fluttering beneath the surface.

 

Your workplace is about twenty minutes away, nestled in a bustling part of town. As you pull up outside the shop, Chris undoes his seatbelt with a determined look on his face.

 

"What are you doing?" you exclaim, a wave of panic rising in your chest. The thought of him entering the shop sends your mind racing.

 

"I’m coming in…. I want to look around… and I might pick up some toys for later when I come to get you," he replies, his voice casual but his eyes glinting with mischief.

 

"Don't you dare," you retort, giving him a warning look. His expression shifts, and he shoots you a challenging stare, the kind that reminds you how stubborn he can be. Realising you’ve lost this battle, you slump back into your seat, resigned but still slightly irked.

 

"Let’s go," he says with a playful grin as he steps out of the car, extending his hand toward you.

 

You take a deep breath, roll your eyes, and push the door open, hopping out reluctantly. "Fine," you mutter, but there's a hint of amusement in your voice. As you take his hand, you can’t help but feel a mix of exasperation and affection for his spontaneous nature. Together, you walk toward the entrance of the shop, the bell above the door jingling as you step inside.

 

Chan  POV

 

"Did she really just roll her eyes at me?" I thought, feeling a mix of irritation and intrigue. "Be careful, Channie... she's not yours just yet," I reminded myself as I walked beside her, the anticipation of the moment hanging heavily in the air. Though the urge to discipline her for her blatant disrespect bubbled beneath the surface, I knew I'd have to bide my time.

 

As we approached the store, I reached out and intertwined my fingers with hers, the warmth of her hand sending a jolt through me. She paused momentarily, her surprise flickering in her eyes, before she confidently led me inside. "Good morning, Noah," she greeted cheerfully as we entered, her voice brightening the room. I cast a glance toward Noah, who stood behind the counter—a striking young man with long, flowing blond hair that framed his chiseled features, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to capture the attention of everyone around him.

 

"Morning, Y/N... Who's this?" he asked, extending his hand toward me with a mixture of curiosity and charm.

 

I grasped his hand firmly, my grip slightly stronger than normal, as if to assert my presence. "This is my friend Chris," she said, her smile a beacon of warmth as she looked up at me, the friendly tone in her voice stinging a little. Just a friend? A surge of possessiveness surged within me; I yearned to show her just what kind of "friend" I could be.

 

Y/N then walked behind the counter, placing her bag with a practiced ease that suggested familiarity, while I observed her every move. There was an effortless grace to the way she navigated her surroundings. Once she returned to my side, a playful smirk danced on her lips. "Okay, you can leave now," she playfully dismissed me.

 

Taking the moment, I gently lifted her chin with my index finger, a gesture that was both tender and commanding. Drawn in by the magnetism that crackled between us, I leaned closer and pressed my lips against hers. The softness of her plump lips sent a rush of warmth through me, and I couldn't help but smile as I pulled back, feeling victorious.

 

I turned to Noah, whose expression of shock illuminated the space between us—clearly, he hadn’t seen that coming. With a sense of satisfaction swelling within me, I stepped out of the store and headed back to the car, a grin plastered on my face. "That'll show him... she's all mine," I muttered under my breath as I settled into the driver's seat. Opening my phone, I glanced at the time and said, "Okay, can we go back to the company?" My mind was already racing ahead, planning the next moves in this intricate game.

A:n thank you again to all that have read my rewrite for master

Taglist: @daceydeath @bakedlilgoonie @armystay89 @krishastumblernow @cakeracha

[redhrs]

Sharp Edges, Part 3 - Sylus x Reader

synopsis— With 24 hours to steal his brooch, you're trapped in a battle of wit and temptation. But Sylus isn't just guarding the prize— he's breaking your resolve, one touch at a time. inspired by Midnight Stealth.

word count— 3.5k~

warnings— 18+, smut, angst, slow burn, nsfw, drunk sex, hate sex, enemies to lovers, rivalry, dom!sylus, making out, aphrodisiac wine, fem!reader, reader is confident, teasing, edging, dry humping, unprotected sex, thigh fucking, choking, sylus is needy asf, reader is horny and lowkey desperate, rough sex, porn with plot, voyeurism

minors don't interact!

🎧 The Zone - The Weeknd

Sylus pins you down, wrists above head, his weight pressing you into the mattress. There’s no space left between you—you feel everything. The frantic hammering of his heart, the heat of his body searing into yours, the hardness of his erection softly grinding against your clit.

"This is what you wanted, right? To see how far l'll go?", he pants, his swollen lips trailing down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Your wrists twist under his grip—you want to touch him so badly it aches.

“Sylus, please,” you whisper, the words spilling out like a plea. His fingers tighten around you as if he knows—knows how desperately you want to run your hands over him, to pull him closer, to feel him without restraint.

“Sylus, oh—Sylus,” he mocks your tone, his lips sucking at the sensitive skin of your collarbone. He’s getting on your nerves, and you’re really starting to hate him for it—but the burning anger tangles with the raw, insatiable desire boiling inside you, and it’s getting harder to tell one from the other.

“Fuck you,” you curse under your breath, your legs wrapping around his waist, desperate to feel more of him. He smirks, his voice low and taunting.

“I know you want to,” he mutters, one hand sneaking between your legs, his fingers teasing you through the fabric of your soaked panties. You whine, your back arching instinctively, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he presses you down harder, his body heavy with intent.

“Say it. Tell me how badly you want it.” Sylus lips brush over yours, his voice rough with need.

“I need you to fuck me right now,” You bite on his lower lip, “To show me how good you can make me feel.”

The moment the words leave your lips, Sylus’s resolve shatters. He crashes his lips to yours, taking what you’ve begged for, as he pushes your underwear to the side, plunging his long digits into you. Your hands, free from his grip, instantly roam over him. One tangles in his soft hair, the other drags down his back, beneath his shirt, nails scraping against his skin. He grunts, a low chuckle escaping his lips.

“You’re so wet but I haven’t done anything yet,” You don’t even care anymore about the obscene moans and whimpers filling the room, “Are you sure you can take it? This is only the beginning, doll.” His fingers are moving at a faster pace, thrusting and curling inside you and all you can do is cry out his name in despair.

“Shut up and keep going” You bite on his Adam’s apple, sucking and teasing the sensitive skin of his neck. You never knew Sylus could be this vocal, and the sounds he’s making right now only fuel your hunger. You can’t wait to hear what other sweet, sinful noises you can draw from him.

“Such an impatient girl,” he adds a third finger and you arch, feeling the familiar heat building in your lower abdomen, your body responding to him with an intensity you didn’t know you were capable of.

“Sylus,” you breathe, gasping for air, the words spilling from you in a helpless whisper. “Don’t stop.”

“Look at you, fucking yourself on my fingers. I didn’t know you could be so bold.” He laughs.

“Wait until you see what I can do to you”, you cling to him as you feel your orgasm approaching.

Sylus moans as you seize his lips in a kiss so urgent and commanding, it leaves him dizzy. Your head tilts to deepen it, your tongue sliding against his, teeth biting his lip as he still fucks you with his fingers.

“What about you show me now?” Just when you’re about to come, Sylus removes his fingers, earning a cry of frustration from you.

“Why did you s—Mmffh” You couldn’t finish your sentence as he forcefully sinks his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself.

“I’d love to see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

Oh, you’ll show him. You’ll make him lose his sanity and leave him begging. “Is that so?” You push him hard enough for him to be completely on his back. “Strip.”

You watch him attentively, your eyes not missing the flex of his muscles as he moves to remove every piece of clothing. You’re dripping wet, the juices of your arousal slicking your thighs— you can’t believe he left you high like this.

You try not to gasp at the length and thickness of his member. You knew he was big when you felt it before, but now that you see it… It’s even bigger than what you imagined.

“Like what you see?” Sylus smirks, a proud smile on as he slowly strokes himself, his dark eyes never leaving yours. You bite your lip, your mouth watering at the view. You don’t answer, instead you slap his hand away and take his cock in your own. He lets out a soft whimper as your fingers wrap around him, your thumb teasing the tip where precum has already begun to bead. His lower abdomen flexes involuntarily at the sensation, a sharp intake of breath escaping him. You lean forward, ass perked up, not breaking eye contact.

Sylus props himself on his elbows, not wanting to miss a single second of the little show you’re putting on for him. “What’s the word?” You tease, his dick twitching as your breath mingle with the wetness of his tip.

“Fuck,” he moves his hips forward, urging you. You click your tongue.

“I fear that won’t work, Sylus. Use your words.” His face flushes, and you can tell he’s deciding whether to let go of that façade he wears so well—the one of the man always in control, knowing he has to drop it if he wants you.

Determined to make him break, you press wet kisses along his length, making sure he feels the way your tongue teasingly brushes over the vein beneath his skin. He shuts his eyes, one hand threading through his hair, tugging slightly in a vain attempt to keep his composure.

“Oh, God— Please, give it to me,” he groans, his voice trembling with desperation. You can almost feel the crack in his tone, a sound so satisfying it sends a thrill through you. Seeing him unravel, trembling under your touch, only makes you crave more.

“Good.” You smile against him, a mischievous glint in your eyes, before trailing slow, deliberate stripes with your tongue from the base of his cock to the tip, savoring the taste of him. Sylus is so sensitive you thought. You spit onto your hand, your fingers tight around his base as you begin to stroke him slowly. When your soft lips wrap over his tip, a broken whimper escapes him. His head falls back, lost in pure bliss, his breath shallow and uneven. One of his hands finds its way to the back of your head, holding you there as if he’s trying to ground himself in the overwhelming pleasure. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to take all of him, but you’re more than halfway there, bobbing your head, your cheeks hollowed as your tongue teases his most sensitive spots. One hand glides along the areas you can’t reach, while the other keeps your hair out of the way.

“You— Fuck, you feel too good” Sylus has completely drowned in lust, not even able to restrain himself. He tugs on your hair, his hips thrusting into your mouth as you take him deep in your throat, the sounds of your saliva mixing with his precum echoing in the room. Tears well in your eyes, and you find yourself clenching around nothing, your own moans sending waves of pleasure through him. “You’re so beautiful— your pretty mouth, taking me so well,” His thrusts become more erratic, messier, you can tell he’s close. You need to stop now if you want to leave him miserable like you were, but his grip on you is too tight and the way you gag around him is all it takes to send him over the edge.

“Oh, fuck I —” Sylus pulls out just in time as he spills over himself, thick white ropes coating his skin while he strokes himself through his climax. You sit there, completely stunned by the sight before you—Sylus pleasuring himself, eyes half-lidded, lips parted as he pants, looking at you like you’re the only one he wants in this world.

“Who would’ve thought the big boss from Onychinus would be such a needy mess in bed?” You finally speak, your voice slightly hoarse, as you lick the cum from his hand. He chuckles and pulls you into a kiss.

“Miss Hunter… I shall return the favor now. Let’s see who’s the most desperate between the two of us.” You don’t have a chance to respond before he pins you down again, his hands roaming with urgent need, pulling you closer as his lips trail down your neck, kissing and biting hungrily at every inch of your skin until he reaches your breasts. With effortless skill, he strips you of your dress, leaving you in nothing but your thong. Sylus pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of you, his gaze dark with appreciation.

“Stunning,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. His mouth is everywhere, tongue teasing and nibbling at your nipple while his thumb circles the other, leaving you restless.

“That feels good,” you exhale sharply, urging him to keep going. You feel him smile against your skin as he continues his slow ascent, his hands reaching the hem of your panties. His hands grip your tights, forcing them wide open as he looks at you, his teasing expression returning.

“Looks like these are ruined,” he chuckles, tearing your underwear off. “I’ll get you new ones, don’t worry.”

Your back arches instinctively as his tongue slips between your folds, dragging up your slit in long, languid strokes. He kisses and sucks at your clit, the heat of his breath only heightening the sensation, sending jolts of pleasure through you with each movement. The sight of him between your thighs, devouring you completely, makes something snap inside you. Lost in the moment, you grind against his face, your legs instinctively closing around him.

“Sylus, right there,” you moan, your eyes nearly rolling back as he slides two fingers inside you.

“You’re so sweet,” He rasps, “Gosh, I can’t get enough of you.” You feel yourself edging closer to release as Sylus finds that sweet spot inside you, his tongue flicking expertly at your clit, sending waves of pleasure that make you dizzy with sensitivity. “Come for me, Angel.”

And you do—your orgasm hits you like a wave, your juices coating his lips, chin, and cheeks. He doesn’t stop, his fingers continuing to work you through your high as he licks up every drop of your arousal. Sylus was hungry, devouring you like a starved man. You could see the way he was working himself up too, grinding against the mattress in an attempt to relieve the throbbing ache of his need.

“Sylus,” you sit up, pulling him close by the neck, your lips just a breath away, “Take me. I want you.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, his mouth gently meets yours in a slow, deep kiss that feels full of unspoken words. His hands pull you closer, guiding you to straddle him as you both move together, bodies pressed against each other with an intensity that’s soft yet consuming. The kiss is tender, the rhythm slow, as if you’re savoring every second, completely immersed in the connection between you.

“I’ve been waiting so long, to be able to touch you like this.” Sylus whispers, his lips brushing softly against your cheek, your jaw, your neck. The atmosphere, once charged with control and dominance, has shifted into something unexpectedly intimate. A strange, familiar feeling stirs inside of you, one that you can’t quite place but know all too well, as if it’s something you’ve felt before and yet can’t fully understand. Your hand slips between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his length, giving it a few strokes. Your foreheads press together, eyes locked as Sylus lifts you, aligning himself with your entrance. Your breaths mingle, both of you panting in anticipation of the pleasure that is about to overtake you. After what feels like an eternity, he slowly sinks into you, his thickness stretching you in a way that has both of you moaning in unison.

“Mhm— so tight,” Sylus groans, throwing his head back, hoping he won’t reach the edge too soon. But with every inch of him disappearing into you, your soft walls gripping him just right, he knows he won’t last long.

“You feel so good,” you gasp, gripping onto him as you begin to ride him at a slow, deliberate pace, giving both of you time to adjust. Sylus meets you halfway, his hands gripping your hips to lift you up, his patience beginning to fade. He leans into a kiss, urgent and sloppy, his self-control slipping with every passing second. Your thrusts grow deeper, harder, fingers digging into each other’s skin, tongues clashing in a frenzy.

“You’re perfect,” Sylus groans between kisses, sinking deeper into you with each movement. “I want to ruin you,” he mutters, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, his grip so strong you couldn’t escape him even if you tried.

“Ruin me,” you moan, your legs trembling as the frantic pace begins to take its toll. “Fuck me like you hate me— Sylus,” you struggle to form words, breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Do with me as you please.”

Sylus feels like he’s going insane. He pins you down, his body hovering over yours as he pulls you by your thighs, realigning himself. “Is that what you want, baby? Want me to be rough on you?” He wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you whimper.

“I want it,” you admit shamelessly, pulling him deeper into you. He chuckles at your boldness, the grip on your neck tightening until your words are nothing more than a breathless whisper. This time, he moves without hesitation, his other hand pressing against your lower abdomen. The lack of oxygen makes you dizzy, the sharpness of the pleasure and the ache blurring together until it feels like you’re seeing stars. As he thrusts into you—fast, almost desperate—the world around you fades away, leaving only the frantic rhythm of your bodies colliding. Each stroke is deeper, sharper, pulling you further into the abyss of need. “I want more,” you cry out, your voice dripping with desire, sounding far more erotic than you intended.

“Want more?” Sylus growls, a dark chuckle escaping him before he flips you onto your stomach. He presses you down against the mattress, his grip firm, then he’s back at pounding into you from behind like he’s completely lost himself. “How do you like it now?” Sylus growls, his palm coming down hard on your ass, the sharp sting making you cry out in pleasure. The impact is so intense you know you’ll be bruised by morning. “Are you satisfied? Answer me.” Another spank echoes through the room, leaving your skin burning.

“Yes—fuck,” you gasp, struggling to form a coherent sentence. The way he’s fucking you right now has you barely able to catch your breath. Sylus leans down, his chest pressing against your back as he continues his relentless pace.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you,” he murmurs against your ear before sinking his teeth into your neck, leaving his mark. “Say it again for me, love.”

Your whole body trembles, your release creeping closer, tension coiling dangerously tight inside you. “Yes—yes, I’m so close—” Your words dissolve into a broken moan as you clench down around him, dragging a deep, sinful groan from Sylus, his own release chasing after yours.

You feel a shift in the rhythm—his thrusts growing messier, more desperate, his breath hot and uneven against your cheek. You wish you could see his face right now. As if reading your mind, Sylus flips you onto your back, pressing his body flush against yours. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, your legs locking around his waist, pulling him in deeper. Foreheads pressed together, you move in sync, chasing that intoxicating high. He’s beautiful, you think. His brows furrowed, eyes shut tight, lips parted as soft moans escape him—an expression of pure bliss you never thought you’d witness. Then it snaps. Pleasure crashes over you in relentless waves, so intense it borders on pain. All you can do is cry out his name, again and again, your body trembling beneath him. Sylus isn’t far behind—he comes just as hard, a deep, guttural moan escaping his lips before they find yours in a desperate, breathless kiss, the two of you clinging to each other as you ride out your high together.

You both remain like this in silence, panting, your chests rising and falling in a mismatched rhythm as you struggle to catch your breath. You’re certain Sylus can hear the frantic beating of your heart—just as you can hear his. A strange wave of sadness and nostalgia washes over you, unexplainable yet impossible to ignore. And before you can process it, you wrap your arms around him, holding him close, pressing his head into the crook of your neck. Your fingers comb gently through his hair, while your other hand traces absentminded patterns along his back, coming back to your senses in the warmth of his body.

“If this is how you hate,” he breaks the silence, his voice hushed and raspy, a stark contrast to the usual arrogance, “then hate me. With all your might.” He pulls you closer, holding you tighter as though the very idea of you slipping away terrifies him. Just as you’re about to speak, you feel his breath slow, his chest rising and falling in a deep, steady rhythm. He’s asleep. You linger for a few moments, watching the rise and fall of his body, before quietly slipping out of his arms and into the shower.

The hot water soothes your worn-out body, easing the tension as it cascades over your skin. You replay everything that has happened, the weight of it all settling deep within you. You’re not sure how you’ll face Sylus tomorrow, your heart stirring with both anxiety and a sense of vulnerability. You wash your body and hair slowly, lost in thought, until you suddenly feel the warmth of arms encircling you from behind. You jump, startled.

“Sylus?” you gasp, your heart racing. His grip is firm, unyielding, as he pulls you gently against his chest.

“Thought you left,” he whispers. You try to turn, but you’re unable to break free from his embrace. You pause, torn between words. The vulnerability in his touch stirs something deep inside you, making you question everything. “Please, stay,” he pleads, his eyes locking with yours, full of a raw, unspoken longing. You nod quietly, feeling a lump form in your throat, your own words escaping you.

You finish the shower together in silence, the quiet intimacy of the moment settling around you both. When you step out, Sylus hands you one of his shirts, his movements calm and steady. He slips into bed first, wearing silky pants that match the top you’re now in. You join him, the cool sheets brushing against your skin as you settle beside him, the room filled with an almost tangible awkwardness. The air between you is quiet, but the tension feels different now—an unspoken understanding, something neither of you has the words for. Sylus pulls you closer, his warmth comforting against your own. A few hours ago, you thought you hated him. But now… now you’re confused, lost in a swirl of emotions you can’t fully make sense of. You’re still searching for answers, knowing there’s something important you’re missing.

“Sylus, you—”

“Don’t worry, the brooch is under your pillow,” he interrupts, a playful hint of mockery in his voice. You let out a tired sigh, too exhausted to play his games any longer. He’s smart, you know he understands exactly what’s going through your mind. But tonight, you’re willing to let it go.

“You’ll get your answers eventually,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his forehead gently resting against yours. “But for now, just sleep in my arms, without a care in the world.”

You close your eyes, letting the soothing rhythm of his voice and the warmth of his embrace lull you to sleep. His cologne wraps around you, familiar and comforting, pulling you deeper into the calm. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, and before you know it, you’re drifting into a peaceful dream—one where it’s just the two of you lying together in a field of flowers, wrapped in each other’s arms, surrounded by nothing but love and serenity.

note— So, this was the last part of Sharp Edges. It was my first time writing, and i’m honestly very glad and thankful that some people enjoyed it. I’ll continue doing my best, take care<3

do not copy, steal or translate my work! reblogs, likes and feedback highly appreciated!

@itsnotmelo @zozoparsnips @niiines999

[captain-huggy-bear]

Taking a bath or relaxing shower with Kesselring? Just something to take the edge of the day off and reconnect.

Oh you know he'd be too big for the tub. Has to seriously start considering a bathroom renovation because he wants to spend more time in there with you and doesn't want cold toes or cold knees. Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

"How'd you feel?" You ask Michael as soon as he enters the house, hockey bag being dumped by the front door. He's slumped over, all 6ft 5 of him, arms heavy, eyes tired and you know he must be hurting. You'd watched the game, seen the hits he took tonight...the fight as well. A night of his body taking an absolute beating.

"Like I got hit by a truck..." He falls into your arms, head flopping onto your shoulder, having to hunch over to do so in a way that you're certain cannot be comfortable. Still you wrap your arms around him, hands rubbing up and down his back to provide some comfort as he huffs against your neck.

"Or a 200lb hockey player into the boards?" You can still hear the hit, solid, impactful...his body no doubt bruised from the shoulders all the way to the toes. The way he'd taken a moment to even get up had scared you at the time, but having him here was reassuring, made you feel better about it.

"Yeah, that too, baby..."

"You want me to run you a bath? Soak your muscles a little?" You pull back despite his protests, just enough to look him in the eyes. He looks absolutely shattered, so tired you're surprised he's still standing.

"That sounds good, baby...but only if you join." The smile he gives you is cheeky but subdued, like he doesn't have the energy to commit fully to the flirty comment. Brown eyes blinking slow, sighing out each word.

"Michael." You raise an eyebrow at him, smiling because there's no way you'd both fit in the tub...not comfortably anyway.

"What?"

"You barely fit in the tub by yourself..."

"Trust me, we'll both fit." He tugs you back close again, large hands pressing into your lower back to keep you flush against his body. A sort of energy starting to fill him just from your presence.

"We will not."

"Please, baby? Just want to have a bath with my girl..." Michael's not opposed to begging and tonight is no exception, turning the puppy dog eyes and pout on you until you cave because the last thing you want to do is deny him anything. Especially after a rough game.

"Okay. Fine, but I'm telling you we won't fit."

You lead him to the bathroom, forcing him to sit on the closed toilet seat while you run the bathtub with hot water and throw in some bubble bath, the kind that says it supposed to help with aching muscles...even if there's no science to back it.

"C'mon, clothes off, Mike."

"Knew you wanted to see me naked."

"Did you plan to get in the bath fully clothed?" You retort even as you shake your head at him in amusement. That amusement fades when his clothes are shed, his body is already black and blue, massive purple bruises across his entire body that make you hiss, fingertips reaching out but stopping short.

"Baby..."

"I'm okay, promise...had worse." You accept his answer even if you don't like it because you know he's right. It's not the first set of bruises he's had from a game and it won't be the last, the fact he can move around, joke about is enough to remind you that he's okay...even if he doesn't look it.

When Michael gets in the tub he's all arms and legs, knees having to bend to get his legs to fit, half his torso out of the water and the water level dangerously high already. The space between his legs does not look big enough for you and the water looks like it's one drop away from displacing all over the floor.

"Michael...I'm not going to fit."

"Yes, you will. You said you'd join me, angel...c'mon...please?" The puppy dog eyes are far too effective a tactic for your liking, once again you find yourself conceding.

Your clothes come off, Michael's eyes dragging down your form appreciatively even as you shake your head at him for being such a man.

When you step into the water his hands come up to your hips to steady you, long fingers digging slightly into the plush of your hips before helping you lower yourself to sit between his legs.

There's a moment where you're certain the water will overflow, flooding the bathroom, but the overflow pipe does the job it's designed for and you're safe.

It allows you a moment to relax back against Michael, head leaning against his shoulder as his fingers trace circles on your arms where you rest them on his knees.

"This is all I wanted, y'know? Just this." His voice is soft and quiet as he presses a kiss to your shoulder, then another...and another. Soft, sweet, not designed to do anything but shower you in his love as the two of you melt into warm water and you wonder why you were ever so reluctant to try this.

"You just wanted me naked..."

"Mmm, that too..." He laughs at you, Michael's hands never straying anywhere even slightly sexual. He could, if he wanted to, but it seems to be the furthest thing from his mind. It's nice, that you can just exist together like that, intimate but without the need for it to go that way, "But, seriously. I just...just needed time with you, just us..." Another kiss lands on your neck, ticklish in a way that has you huffing out a laugh.

"I like this." You turn your neck to look up at him, reaching just enough to kiss his jaw, the stubble that had started to grow there scratching your lips.

"Told you we'd fit." He's smug, smirking down at you. But, his eyes are still soft, no real I told you so in his eyes, just happy to be there with you.

"Still up for debate, you can't straighten your legs and still have your toes in the water." His feet would stick straight out, proof that this tub was simply not made for a man of his size.

"Semantics,"