#why do you want it to be cheap and bad. think with your heads

[darlingdaisyfarm]

I was going through a thought and wondered, how would Stan and Ford react to you getting hurt? Like on a mission, heist, or exploration.

[ how Stan & Ford react when you get hurt ]

a/n: sometimes my imagination is so embarrassingly bad, but i tried! i hope you enjoy it despite that <3 thank you for the idea tho!!

STANLEY

★ if it happened outdoors, Stan is grabbing your arm, yanking you to your feet, “what the hell were you thinking, huh?!” if it’s a mission or a heist, he’s 100% mad at the situation, and lowkey mad at you for getting hurt in the first place. but it's just because he cares too much

★ you’re hurt, and his mind is racing. “no. no. not this. not you, goddammit”

★ if it’s really bad, like you’ve passed out or you’re not responding, he panics. “c’mon, please, please stay with me, sweetheart”

★ whatever the situation, Stanley gets you out immediately, doesn't hesitate or finish the job or whatever he was doing. he literally carries you if he has to, forgets his own injuries. “c’mon, c’mon, i gotcha, we’re gonna get outta here, baby, stay with me.”

★ if you're bleeding bad he physically presses his hand over it and curses under his breath like “shitshitshit fuck, okay okay, you’re alright, you’re good, you’re so good, baby, fuck, hold still”

★ if it's really bad, he can't help but be emotional. screams at anybody who even tries to slow him down. doctors, nurses, cops. “if you don’t fuckin’ MOVE i’m gonna PUT you through a WALL.”

★ after you're safe, sleeping or resting, Stan gets very very quiet. sits by your bedside hunched and still worried, not knowing where to put his hands. instead, just keeps replaying this situation in his head. how he could've stopped it or what he should’ve done

★ if you so much as whimper in your sleep, he's immediately there. touching your wrist, smoothing your hair, whispering “s’okay. i gotcha. m’right here.”

★ i hate to write that but. . . he absolutely cries :( and hates himself for it even more. he tries not to cry loudly. at least, not obvious. but these stubborn angry tears keep falling and he wipes away fast because he’s mad they’re even happening

★ blames himself because guess why? he thinks he's a screw up. even if it wasn’t his fault. even if you jumped in front of danger to save HIM. he feels like your hurt is a debt he can never repay. and he’ll work twice as hard after

★ probably won't let you lift a finger for a week and will even argue with you about it. “what, you’re gonna get up and make yourself dinner with that leg? sit your sweet ass down before i TIE ya to the couch, baby, ok?“

★ absolutely buys you a stupid little get well gift. like a giant teddy bear idk. it’s ugly and cheap and it makes you laugh and he looks at you like he’d go back to hell and back for that smile

★ his hands are too rough and he knows it, so when he tends your injuries, he touches you so soft it's almost clumsy. “m’sorry, kid. my hands ain’t. . . they ain’t good for delicate stuff. but y’know i’m tryin’, right?”

★ “yer skin’s too good for bruises. shoulda been made’a stardust, i dunno.” then immediately snores and drools on your shoulder

★ Stanley hides his injuries from you. if he got scraped up during the mission too, he’ll downplay it SO hard. like limping with a bloody nose but “pfft, what, this? nahhh. absolutely fine.” because he thinks if you knew he was hurting too, you’d feel worse

★ he lets you wear his shirts because they’re soft and smell like him and he thinks it’ll help you heal faster if you’re comfy

STANFORD

★ freezes for half a second. because he’s trying to understand how bad is it / how much time do we have / what’s the fastest way to help you. he can't waste a minute

★ gets terrifyingly competent. applies pressure, builds splints from scraps, mutters smth about blood loss and nerve damage. talks you through it with a voice so calm but inside he wants to throw up because of worry. “stay awake for me, darling. keep talking. good. eyes on me. good. you’re doing perfectly” Ford keeps talking clearly so that you keep your focus on him

★ honestly, no matter how hard he tries, i dont think he’d be the perfect calm collected person. i mean sure, if you get hurt, Ford’s first reaction is to jump into doctor-mode. hes not even thinking about it. because what's important is to make sure you're breathing and blinking. but ugh, his eyes are the giveaway. they’re usually so calm, but when it’s you, theyre so wide and scared, full of worry, brows knitted, biting his lip

★ so yeah he tries to be calm but fails. so he snaps at anyone who distracts him. “either help me or get out of my way. let me do my job”

★ gets frustrated if you won’t let him fix you. he needs you to let him help. so hes constantly like “no, no, no, don't you dare pull away from me”

★ once you’re safe, he cant really breathe for a second. i mean, he had just experienced the most terrifying moments of his life, almost losing the person he loved most. so Ford's hands are trembling. he tries to hide it because he thinks he needs to be “the strong one” but if you so much as reach for him he folds into your touch still

★ if it was on anomaly hunting or expedition, he feels guilty for bringing you along. “i should’ve known it was too dangerous. i never should’ve let you come. i was selfish.” he hates himself for it

★ i think later, Ford develops a quiet habit of memorizing your vitals. like, your heartbeat, your breathing when you sleep. all the time, he keeps checking without waking you. just running fingertips lightly over your wrist or brushing his hand near your collarbone. it’s a comfort thing. if he can feel you breathing, he can sleep

★ this cutie builds you ridiculous safety gadgets. “here, this bracelet contains an emergency teleport beacon, a medical scanner and a plasma shield generator. standard fare, really.” it's like wearing an entire fucking sci-fi lab on your wrist. but you wear it anyway because well, you can't say no to him

★ also when it beeps or whatever, Ford panics instantly. no matter how minor

★ might accidentally blurt out love confession while tending you. like patching a cut and muttering “i can’t lose you. i love you. i. . .“ then FREEZES because he didn’t mean to say it out loud yet

★ he’s very doting when you're hurt. he’s the one who makes sure you’re comfortable, brings you books to read, does everything he can to distract you from the pain

★ and if it gets to a point where you’re just in too much pain, Ford’s solution is putting his hands on you, gently massaging while whispering that it will pass soon. i think Ford is more affectionate than usual in these moments. he lets his vulnerability show

★ Ford will get a little obsessive about safety after. “what do you mean you’re going into the woods alone?”

[icetones]

I dont like calling stupid people stupid but if you say this you are stupid .

[dilf-docs]

Give Me Coffee, Utah Love

sleazy!joel 'mullet' miller x younger fem!reader

summary: on the run and looking for a fresh start, a cheap gasoline coffee and to-do list slipping from your bag later, you (have lost your mind and) consider this stranger's proposition.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (52/25), pwp, p. in v., fingering, (one) pussy spank, degradation kink, lwk breeding and exhibition kink, nasty filthy sex, public sex, one joke about kys, strangers to ???, pulled an all nighter for this yey me (its 3am and my alarm sounds at 4:10 lol) so forgive me if i made any spelling mistake, i wanna see ur comments/reblogs bc i crashed out so bad i feel like i deserve it

word count: 4,060 words

side note: that one girl who doesn't play abt snl. okay but who works harder? the devil, a7estrellas or me, that only needed two pedro snl sketches and is acting like a yuppie in the 80s doing cocaine on a bathroom after work bc WOW so many new content. yes, men with mullets should die but this is pedro! song of choice for this piece is queen of the gas station by sleazy dilf patroness lana del rey. also up next, renaldo inspired one shot to celebrate the snl 50 series! (update: read it here)

You liked driving at night.

There was simply something about the eerie silence, the shadows casting upon the streets, barely touched by the headlights and the moon, the quiet hum of the radio and the slow shift of your hands on the wheel.

You liked driving at night, but today, it feels off.

Just this morning, you had looked at your house one last time. It still had that white paint on the porch, that had faded due to the sunlight, and those scrapped stickers on what had been your childhood room's door.

He had tried talking some sense in to you, claiming all your life was there, in Arizona. With him. But Phoenix had started to feel like a prison and he was your warden. So you snuck at dawn when no one would notice, like a criminal. Very fitting.

The sun hadn't touched yet the kitchen where you ate when your feet balanced off the chair and now graced the floor in a lazy manner, eating cereal with marshmallows first and now, just about three days ago, just oatmeal, because it seemed like what a grown up would do.

But in many ways you were still the same kid who was too shy to raise her hand in class because she couldn't find her voice, bound to be forgotten among much louder and brigther kids. Yet he had seen you.

So you stayed: put up with dances where he would spin you until the world was reduced to a blur, and the quiet home life in town-- kids running around and barbecues on the summer seemed like a good ending. You dreamed of a truck and a garden, and the few friends you made all seemed to share the same vision. Except for one.

When Dorothea came back from New York, eyes too wide and smile too bright, she seemed like a different person. In many ways she still was the same girl with an accent who had shared her sandwhich with you during recess, but her words now carried ambition and her gaze seemed awoken by a purpose you couldn't find but on the road that drove out of town.

But folks kept her at arms length. The amusement in her smile was infectious as a disease, and with whispered stabs they would talk behind her back. Your friend bore a scarlett letter for wanting more.

You had never wanted more; compliant might of be your second name. But when you'd see her walk by your house, shorts above her knees and that city girl strut with her sneakers against the hot asphalt, you were envious, and Williams seemed so small and dull.

Who does she think she is? he would say, and you'd nod your head, despite the secret admiration hidden in your eyes.

Suddenly, the red truck sounded stupid and the married life with kids could wait.

We could wait, you had said outloud.

He had laughed, like you just told a joke. It was on surprise, but it felt cruel.

Why? like he couldn't understand you-- as if you spoke on a different language. What is there to wait for?

You took your decision that day.

It started slow, by wearing skirts that rode up with the wind, blaming the lack of clothes on the heat. Then with the nicotine between your lips, the forbidden act making clouds that escaped your red lips. Or wearing the other make up Dorothea taught you, now holding hands with her as people whispered she had tainted your naive soul too. He caught your new smell, and spoke harshly about not wearing clothes that made other men turn to eat out the sun-kissed skin of your legs, because you'd turn too, gaze defiant and full of mischief, but that he didn't know. Might as well wear nothin'. But he cried with his face buried in the same uncovered legs, saying he hated to see you like this; he didn't recognize you.

It was easy then.

One day you packed your bags and took the car you'd been given as a graduation gift, leaving town with what seemed a lifetime stashed in the backseat.

You left a note for your parents, neatly placed on a bed you wondered when you'd sleep again in, if you were ever to be back. To him, who you now just start to wonder if you ever really loved or just accepted because it's what there was and nothing more, you hadn't left a note nor explanations.

He wouldn't understand anyways.

Just the promise of what could've been, shining in the middle of your bed.

You had been driving non-stop, afraid like a fugitive who was being chasen. Sometimes, you'd take stops on the road and pulled out a pen and a book, despite your fingers itching from driving and your urgency to check the phone you'd been to coward to turn on to see the wake of messages your disappearance might have sparked.

There was a sting somewhere outside the ache of your bones or the flutter of your tired eyes, and it cried for home and longed for the life you always envisioned for yourself. But it also felt like a second skin you couldn't quite wash off with the cheap soap and cold water of the motel you had crashed in a couple of hours ago.

You didn't want to live in suburban desert dreams back at Williams. You wanted to feel alive.

It's nightime when the little peep sound jolts you awake. You had been driving in auto-pilot; your car needs gas and you needed rest.

Its probably ten at night, and according to your map, Utah isn't that far. It's a fresh start: a place where no one knows your name or your whole life, for the matter.

Your car comes to a stop under faded neon lights in the middle of the road. There's a truck parked next to your car, the guy inside the convenience store, and that's about it. You're filling your tank while suppressing a yawn, when a movement across your station catches your eyes.

The only other customer, a man old enough to be your dad. He's staring at you, leaning against his truck, arms crossed while the biceps flex with the position, tense. Even from your place, you can see how the veins pop here and there, making you gulp on instinct.

The smoke of his cigarrette gets lost in the neon hues and starry sky. Doesn't he know you're not supposed to do that at a gas station? Yet, his lack of care and recklessness picks your interest.

(Hey! The last time you had human contact was about a day ago and after seeing only roads, asphalt, desert and mountains, you deserved a little treat to entertain yourself)

"Like what you see, doll?" sporting the most sleazy smile you'd ever seen.

Something about him was as alluring as uneasy, the nervous tremble of your hands but the warmth between your legs speaking of said conflicting emotions. You pretend to be invested on the task of filling your truck (the reason you're here, after all) but the way your body burns, begs, to look again is humilliating. So you do, but he isn't there anymore, althought his truck is.

"You know, wearin' a dress like that at night isn't a good idea for'a girl like you"

He appears from seemingly nowhere, making you jump. Your heart flutters and you clench at nothing with the sound of his deep voice, low, akin to a rumble or a thunder. It's laced with diversion, and the not so subtle way he eats you out with his eyes like a starved man, wolfish grin on display as he leans now against your car, makes his intentions all the more clear.

"Why?" you feel oddly bold, instead of scared. Maybe it's the lack of sleep, because why the hell would you be flirting in a gas station, at night, entertaining an old and slighlty creepy albeit attractive man when you had been engaged less than a day ago?

"The weather" he appears nonchalant, balancing the cigarrette like a toothpick between his chapped lips. "Or men"

"Bold of you to say that while wearing that" you poke fun at his outfit, which consists of some shorts, worn t-shirt and a vest. He's sporting the tall socks and slippers combo, dressing like a grandpa but he pulls it off alright. "Also, men? Like who, you?"

He laughs, the sound sprouting rich and grave from his chest. It makes you dizzy. Yup, let's blame the lack of sleep again.

"Well, look at that. Sure got'a mouth on ya', doll" he gets closer, and his scent floods your nostrils. Wood, gasoline, musk, sweat and burnt ciggars. "Just takin' care of you. Say, how about ya' warm that shaky frame of yers? This place has sum coffee goin' on. Shit, but it works"

He could poison your drink for all you care, but all his teeth are on display and he's got a dimple. Also, you're fighting your fluttering eyelids in here.

"Y/n" it's your way of agreeing while extending your hand.

Instead of shaking it, he pulls you even closer and kisses it, his warm lips brushing your cold hand. You shiver at the contact, and it may be the way his firey auburn holds your gaze while doing so or how big his hands feel, both your mind and heart racing.

"Joel" he says, and then that same calloused palm finds its way to the soft part above your ass in your back, guiding you to the store.

Inside, it smells like cheap coffee and grease. You clutch your bag tighter, and choose a table as the stranger pays for your coffee, or well, Joel.

"There ya' go" and he places the hot brown liquid in front of you.

Now that he's closer and under the yellow-ish lights, you take a better look at his face. His eyes, which mock the drink in front of you. His hands, that seem to almost swallow the small cup with their size, and then his hair. God, alright. He sported a fucking mullet of all haircuts. And boy, wasn't it embarrassingly attractive? Your eyes fall towards his beard and mustache, grays sprinkled across them. But your mind and eyes alike went back to the thought of feeling the slightly greasy looking hazel strands, calling for your touch.

"Gonna take a sip or what?" and he smiles. You don't know if it's in diversion by your doze-off or because he knows why.

You had never felt this hot and bothered. Hell, not even normal hot. He had never made you feel like this, and now some fucking random skanky man was getting your panties on a twist in the middle of the road.

"I-I'm going to the bathroom" you manage to squeak out, running for your life.

Inside the stall, you splash some water into your face, as if trying to make you react. Get yourself together, you tell your reflection in the mirror, but then you're fixing your hair, and as you reach for your red lipstick you realize you left your bag back at the table. Fuck.

You get out, only to find your bag weirdly sprawled on the seat, the handles centimeters away from falling to the floor. Then, he, who you only see his sturdy back and broad shoulders, crouched down, like he's reading something, althought Joel doesn't seem the type of guy who chooses to read in his free time.

"Joel?"

And then you see it: the tiny notebook you had been scribbling on the road, looking even smaller on his grip.

Your To-do list.

It may sound stupid, but a week before leaving, you bought it: the last memory of your town and the start of your new life. At twenty-five, the concept may sound a little stupid with what you've written, but you felt your new life deserved to have space for some of those dreams or fleeting thoughts you had during class written down.

And now fucking Joel was reading it.

"Wow, doll. Ya' sure are full of surprises" he chuckles, flipping through the pages. What sounds better: killing him or yourself? Hmm, maybe throwing the burning coffee at him would suffice.

"Give me that back" you extend your rigid hand, voice clipped.

The stupid trail of decisions catches up to you. Why had you trusted a stranger that had oggled you right in front of your face? You're too starved and horny to think straight, clearly, because now he's mocking you while your face burns with red shame.

"Saved your bag from fallin' when ya' rushed outta da seat. Then this lil' thing came out" he stops on a page. "Skinny dipping. And'ere I thought you're a good girl"

"Shut up and give me that" you seethe.

"Wow, doll" Joel chuckles yet again. "don't get yer panties in a twist. If ya' wanted so, jus' ask"

You scoff at his boldness. "Excuse me?"

"Ya' heard me" he gets up from his seat, body towering over yours.

Was it hot in here? Why was your body warm all of the sudden? Was it the coffee? No, you hadn't even take a sip. Joel searches before looking at you again with a content gaze and an ugly smug grin, like he's used to having his way.

"Sex with a stranger" then searches for other, the sound of the pages the only other sound in the room, still not overpowering the one of your heart, echoing in your ears. "Sex in a bathroom"

He closes the little book and hands it back to you. You take it with force, ears burning at their tip. "So?"

"Funny" he muses. "I can help you with both"

Your head drops back against the cold wall as Joel's lips find your collarbone.

This was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Of all the decisions you've made in your life, this one is either the worst or the best. Fuck, you hadn't even arrived at Utah and could cross two things from the book.

His kiss is rushed, rough and sloppy, sucking on your lips so hard you feel them swollen and bruised. Joel's tongue then pokes inside your mouth, to taste your insides and all of you more deeply, content with the savor of your sweet mouth and gloss smeared across his own. It isn't often that he gets a chance like this: sure, casual sex is like breathing for him at this point in life, where he's made it too far without building a home for a wife. But now, here? You, this pretty young thing, the small whimpers coming out of your lips, how you squirm under his frame and groping hands that travel through a body he can't get enough of. Shit, he ain't young anymore but he's painfully hard and can't stop his task despite his aching joints and age. Joel just wants to taste all of you forever, despite the shit place and rather funny circumstances:

You both, strangers, in an dirty dark alley behind a gas station, about to fuck.

He's pressing his knee tightly between your thighs, the same one you had spotted before thanks to his shorts. His strong grip pins your hand above your head, rendering you immobile under his weight, that presses over you. Shit, you should be thinking this through and running away, but the complete submission and reckless choice makes it all the more hot.

Your throat works up soft, needy noises and Joel marvels at the sounds.

"Keep 'em comin', doll. Wanna know I'm makin' you feel good"

His lips leave lazy wet trails across your skin. The skirt of your dress is raised by his leg and pressed knee.

"Hmh, Joel-" you needily whimper.

"Shh" he swallows a moan with his mouth, "but jus' for me, doll. Keep it low, will ya'? Or want the whole place knowin' what a dirty slut ya' are? Fuckin' with da first stranger that looks yer way?"

You had never been degraded, less thought it would turn you this much on.

"Joel" you whimper his name.

He groans into your mouth, lewd tongues tangling and tasting the messy kiss with fiery passion and hate. Your fingers fist into the thick material of his vest, nails about to ruin it, but by the way his eyes darken and he smiles, Joel might be into it.

The man pulls away for breath, a string of saliva connecting you two.

His hand gropes your ass and then moves to your exposed inner thigh.

"What'a dirty girl" your fingers hook into his worn-out jeans, tugging the peaking waistband forward to you. His weight and chest push into you, "so wet and eager for this dick, you cockhungry whore"

To prove his point, his thick fingers rub your clit through the material of your panties. You tilt your head back in pleasure at the newfound sensation, and he takes the chance to mark your exposed neck and collarbone, making you moan his name when he sinks his teeth on the skin.

"All 'tis for me?" and his fingers fingers slink down to trace your folds again. Your back arches, breasts pressing against his chest. You dig your nails on his broad back, making him hiss with pleasure as you grab for support.

His rough digits slide and push your sticky panties aside, then plunge inside your pussy. You whimper quietly, the squelches of your pussy swallowing his fingers the only sound in the dark, aside from the busy road ahead. The calloused pad of his thumb circles your sensitive nub, pressing and massaging as his lips travel down to the valley of your tits.

"Wanna free this bad girls and taste 'em" he pulls down your dress, mouth practically watering at the rosy soft skin. "Fuck, doll. No bra? Ya' were lookin' for this, ain't you? Makin' the job easy. I'm just'a lucky man"

He wants to see how they bounce with each thrust, eyes darkening with the shade of lust.

"I- Fuck"

Joel's fingers thrust in and out at with a rapid pace and delicious movements you had never been pleasured before with. Now, when he curls them? That nearly sends you over the edge, reaching a spot you had never known existed.

"S'tight" he groans at your clenching warm sticky walls, fingers slowing but still moving as you ride out your high, drenching him in your liquids.

"Found sum sugar for that shit tastin' bitter coffee, eh?" he takes his own fingers on his mouth and sucks on them with a rather obscene gesture, taking them out with a loud pop. His tongue licks what's left off, and you whimper at the lewd image. "Yer too sweet, doll. Can't get 'nough"

Your arms wrap around him, as Joel rolls his hips, seeking friction to relieve him of the uncomfortable strain against the denim.

"Ready to take me in, doll? I'll just warn ya' somethin'" his free hand unbuckles his belt and tugs down the jeans and boxers down, dick in display: hard, and leaking with precum. He drags his teeth against your ear, and his hot breath ghosts over you with coffee and ciggars. "See that? Think ya' can take it?"

The tuft of sweaty hair leading down to his length has you salivating, and your fingers wrap around him before you realize it. Joel winces at the touch.

"Like a champ" and you swear his erection throbs in your palm, head angry and needy.

What a gentleman.

He doesn't wait for more words, teasing your moist folds with his tip before he's inside, buried to the hilt, rough fingers steady bruising your hips as he thrusts you up against the wall. You look up at the flickering lampost, wondering how did you ever made it here and what the hell are you doing, his groans deep inside your ear as his head is buried in the crook of your neck, labored breaths against your ablazed skin. For a moment, he looses the spot and favors looking at you, to take in the sight infront of him: mouth slightly gaped open, eyes lidded, and fingers desperately digging into his back. You're fucked out of your mind, but so is he.

"Like what you see?" you mimick his words from earlier. He lets out a dry and labored chuckle.

"I do"

He snaps his hips, and you're not sure what is it that creaks, too many things happening outside (the cars, the whiff of gasoline, the nocturnal wind). Joel soon takes up an erratic pace. He's so deep in you, his balls slams into your pussy with each thrust he forces into you.

You should start writing more things on that notebook if they would become true and as good as this. Earn a ridiculous sum of money for free, for example.

Joel grunts, hands busy holding you against the wall, but he so badly wants to play with your bouncy tits, so you let out a yelp when his wet tongue rolls over the skin, mouth then sucking the skin until it's bruised, kissing lazily around your hardened nipples until teeth bite on them.

He's going insane; should go more often late night driving if he'd end up fucking pretty naive sweet-tasting girls behind alleys.

His cock fills you so perfectly it doesn't take long before your walls are spasming around his cock, and you're about to cum for a second time, before on his fingers now over his girth inside of you. Joel can sense it, so his filthy mouth goes for it:

"Go on, doll. Show me what yer made of"

You fall apart with a sharp cry, face buried into his shoulder with a bite to muffle it.

He groans as the pleasure rolls through you. "Milk me dry, c'mon. Take all of ma' seed like the slut ya're" Joel speaks while moving inside you, deeper and quicker, aching for release. Then he's pulsing, cumming with a harsh grunt. "Don't waste a drop, doll. I know you're considerate jus' like that"

His hands slide down to your waist, his long hair drenched, sticking to his forehead. There's the silence of the night and your breaths as you try to compose yourselves.

"That's a good girl" while softnening cock still inside you.

"See? Told you: took you like a champ" you pant, trying not to think of what lead you to now, just focused on the high. "I like to keep my promises"

Joel laughs, but its a soft sound; light. It caresses your chest like a wind chime.

He then pulls out, your folds a mess and his dick coated with your juices. "Shit, look at ya' hungry pussy, doll. Wore me the fuck out"

You help him pull up his pants, looking at the socks while you contain a laugh. Then you think again and the alley pulls you out of your post sex haze. Yeah, filling those two checkboxes in your To-do list will feel good as fuck, but:

Now what?

"Joel?"

"Hmh?"

He pulls up your dress to cover your tits when the wind brushes through the alley, with a weird softness to him, then fixes your panties, giving your clothed pussy a weak slap that sends a shiver through your body.

"Thanks for the treat. I'ont remember orderin' desert"

You laugh as you push him off your body, refusing to meet his eyes. This is the second man who has seen you naked, and while definitely not good at words, his wolf-like hunger in his brown eyes and needy mouth besides the hard dick have said more than enough. Besides, it's a little late to be embarrased but you're still trying to process this wild huge leap you took to celebrate the start of your new life.

"Drive safe" you mutter, starting to walk away, thinking how the hell you'll survive the two hours left in the orad with such a sticky pair of panties and sweaty body.

"Where you goin'?" his deep voice stops you before you've reached the end of the alley.

"Utah" you answer in a beat, heart beating dangerously fast.

The same sleazy smile from the first time you saw him adorns his handsome face, all teeth in display.

"Really, doll? Well, lucky you" he lights up a cigarrette, trail of smoke condensing in anticipation. "'Cause that's jus'bout where I'm headed"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas

[not-neverland06]

Hey I’m just begging for a fic of Logan with a shy reader that she has a crush on him but thinks he’s never going to fix on her since Jean exists (maybe the reader can make her hair color change depending on the emotion or something

a/n: sorry I haven’t been responding to asks. The new job has officially killed my spirit. But I got to work out finally and do some yoga so hopefully I’ll start feeling more motivated 🤞🤞this one will be shorter

Logan Howlett x X-men!reader (Chameleon)

“Chameleon!” You jump, shoulders flying up to your ears. Almost immediately you can feel the tips of your fingers tingling. Sure enough, when you look down they’re already disappearing. Sighing, you turn around and glare at Scott. 

“What have I told you about scaring me?” 

He grimaces, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I forgot.”

You roll your eyes and turn back toward your project. “Every time,” you mutter bitterly. You’re not an idiot. You know he thinks scaring you is funny. The whole school does. They all like to see you yelp and blend in with the nearest surface, the only thing visible is your stupid hair. 

“You’re, um, turning red.” Scott points to your head and you don’t have to look to know your hair is shifting colors.

You reach over and swat harshly at his arm, “Because you pissed me off! I know you scare me on purpose,” you accuse, jabbing your finger into his chest. He laughs and stumbles away from you. 

“Alright, alright, calm down. I was just messing around a little. Look,” he glances down at the lesson plans before you and sighs. “All this will have to wait. Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You huff and shove the papers into your desk drawer. “Alright, lead the way.” You feel Scott’s eyes still lingering on your hair and glare at him. “Move it, Summers,” you demand. 

You were already in a bad mood, you didn’t need him making it worse. It honestly shouldn’t be such a big deal for you. You get scared by everyone all the time. You used to enjoy it, enjoyed the way it felt like you all had your own joke. But, eventually, it started to feel less like an inside joke and more like you’re the unwitting butt of one. 

Some mutants get amazing powers, like Jean or Charles. Logan’s abilities are incredible, even if he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that. But yours, well, you're better suited as the cheap gimmick of a children’s birthday party than an X-Men. You’re just a walking mood ring that blends in with her environment. 

The only thing you’re good for is reconnaissance missions and embarrassing yourself. You don’t know what Charles sees in you. You’ve never understood why he insists you’re such a good asset to the team. Yes, you are good at spying on people, but you don’t need to when Charles has such strong telepathic abilities. You’re essentially useless in a fight due to a lack of regenerative or strength abilities. 

More often than not you feel like a child playing dress up, chasing after the big kids. You know the others don’t mean anything bad by it when they tease you into going invisible or laugh when your hair changes. It’s all in good fun. But it doesn’t make you feel any less like easy entertainment rather than a teammate. 

It doesn’t help that you’ve got little to no control over your abilities when it comes to Logan. You’ve never had such a horrifically bad crush like this. Anytime he opens his mouth around you, you're fighting off the urge to just go invisible and run away. You feel like you go feral around him. You don’t know how he hasn’t caught onto what the colors of your hair mean when you’re near him. 

It’s constantly switching between some odd mix of red and pink when you talk. Which, you know what it means, but you’re praying no one else does. Red can mean angry, depending on whether you’re talking to Scott or not. You know, though, that with Logan it just means you want to jump his bones and you’re hopelessly in love with him. 

Thankfully, like the others, he associates red with anger. Which isn’t great for you because that just means he thinks every time he opens his mouth you’re pissed off. At yourself, maybe, but at him, never. It just means when he wears those stupid tanktops you want to dig your teeth into his biceps and never let go. 

Scott opens the door to the meeting room and you slide in past him. Charles gives you a brief smile as a greeting. You take the chair at the end of the table, which just happens to be next to Logan - completely coincidental. He gives you a tense smile and you return it stiffly. You tug your hood over your hair, praying he doesn’t notice the red in your strands yet. You don’t want him to think you hate him. You completely prefer that over him knowing how feral you are for him, but it’s not conducive to your slow plan to finally get him to acknowledge you as a sexual partner. 

You swear, if your name isn’t Jean Grey, you might as well just be a shapeless blob of nothing. He glances over at her, that smoldering look in his eyes, and you try not to throw up in your mouth. Scott wraps an arm around Jean’s shoulders and they break their lingering stares. 

Logan glances over at you and catches the glare on your face before you can get rid of it. He huffs and turns towards Charles. With a sigh, you sink back into your chair and focus on not just going invisible. 

“Chameleon,” Charles says your name and your eyes widen. You wonder how much you’ve missed while you’ve been glaring at the back of Jean’s head. “Does that sound alright with you?”

You look around the table for help but they’re all staring expectantly at you. “Sure,” you stumble over the word, racking your brain for any answers. It seems not even your subconscious was paying attention to Charles droning on. “Sounds great.” He gives you a satisfied nod. 

“Good. Off to the jet, all of you.” he rolls out of the room and you wait until he’s out of earshot to kick Logan under the table. 

He glances back at you, smirking. “Don’t know what you agreed to?”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “Nope,” he gives you a look like he knew you’d say that. You hate how well he can read you when it feels like you’re constantly hitting walls trying to understand him. 

“You’re scoping a place out for us. Making sure it’s safe so we can retrieve some information.” You give him a thankful look and he chuckles. “You need to start paying attention, kid.”

You groan and get up from your chair, brushing past him. “I told you to quit calling me that.” It makes you feel like that’s all he’ll ever see you as, some kid invited onto the team. You want him to see you as someone he could have sex with, hopefully, love one day. 

He glances past you at Jean. She smiles at him and you fight everything inside you to not roll your eyes and gag at them. She’s holding onto Scott and making fuck me eyes at Logan, which he’s happily returning. This is just too disgusting for you. 

You shove past him and ignore how he calls out your name. Your real name. He’s the only one that uses it. For some reason, most people just refer to you by Chameleon. You don’t understand why. They just don’t seem to think of you outside your abilities as a mutant. 

You make it to the jet before the others, taking the private time to change into your X-Men suit. If there’s one useful thing about your ability, it’s that it affects whatever’s touching you. Which means, you don’t have to strip naked to go completely invisible. And if anyone is around you, all you have to do is hold onto them and they’ll blend in too. 

You’re tugging up the zipper of your top as Logan walks in. He gives you an odd look, sitting on the bench in front of you. “Angry about something?” He asks, gaze darting up to your head. 

You drag your fingers over the ends of your hair and sigh. “No,” you tell him bluntly, taking the seat beside him. 

His brows furrow in confusion. “It’s red, though,” he points out, his tone colored in suspicion. 

You laugh a little, “Red doesn’t always mean angry.” It’s the most you’ve ever confided about your hair colors to him. The largest hint you’ve ever given him that you don’t hate him. You’re worried if he knew how you really felt about him, he’d think you were a little creep. 

He slides his arm behind you on the bench, leaning in until you’re practically sharing the same air. You know your eyes are comically large, you don’t even want to know what color your hair is turning right now. “What else does it mean, kid?” He whispers and you don’t even pay attention to the nickname. All you can see and hear right now is him. How close he is, how close your lips are. 

You could lean forward an inch or two and you’d be kissing. “Um,” you swallow harshly around the lump in your throat. You don’t even know what he asked you, all you can think about now is kissing him. 

“Logan!” Ororo’s voice echoes through the jet and you leap away from him, trying to calm your racing heart. Logan sighs and leans back in his seat, giving Storm a tense smile. She glances at you and laughs, “She’s nearly see-through, what are you doing to her?”

You frown and look down at your hands. Sure enough, you’re going translucent. You let out a silent groan, and tuck your knees into your chest. You take a few deep breaths until you’re one solid form again. It’s so embarrassing when that happens, when you lose control over yourself like that. 

But it’s even worse when Logan does it to you. He gives you hope, stupid, hateful hope, for one minute that he might feel something deeper. Only for it to be another joke. You’re a walking mood ring, nothing more than a quick laugh to all of them. 

Jean walks up the ramp, her gaze going to Logan first before drifting towards you. “Are you alright?” She mutters, trying not to let the others hear. Of course, Logan can, with his stupid enhanced abilities. “You’re turning blue,” she points out and you roll your eyes. 

You can feel Logan’s stare burning holes into the side of your head and it only makes you feel worse. You hate being a joke, but you also hate showing them just how much it affects you. You don’t want to seem like a crybaby that can’t handle a little teasing. But you’d thought coming to Charles’ school meant people would stop poking fun at you. It feels like being dragged right back into high school. 

“I’m fine,” you tell her. She doesn’t look like she believes you but she takes a seat anyway. Of course, placing herself right next to Logan, even though her fiancee is a few feet away from her, looking just as hurt as you. They lean into each other and whisper. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. You let your glare bore into the floor, ignoring how much seeing them together hurts. 

The mission had gone well, Logan had been hoping to go to the bar and grab a drink with you. But the second his back is towards you, you’re running off the jet. Logan calls out your name, trying to catch up. You glance back at him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He smiles at you and your eyes widen. You go invisible and Logan glances around, baffled. 

He calls out your name again but the door ahead of him opens and closes quickly. He can only assume you’ve run away again. You always run away from him. You’re always pissed off at him. He doesn’t know what Jean’s talking about when she says you like him. 

Logan’s never met anyone more repulsed by him. 

“Would you just trust me?” Jean tells him lowly, creeping up behind him. 

His face falls and he turns to her, glaring at her knowing smirk. “She just fuckin’ ran away from me. Pretty sure that’s about as good a hint as I’m gonna get, Jean.”

She glances over her shoulder, waving Scott away and looping her arm through Logan’s. “You’re an idiot, Howlett.” He scoffs and she swats at his shoulder. “Trust me, I can read minds, remember?”

Of course, he knows she’s got some pretty decent telepathic abilities. But he didn’t think she would so brazenly breach your boundaries. There’s an unspoken rule that the mind readers of the school don’t delve into your brain without permission. 

She sees the look on his face and sighs. “I didn’t read her mind. She got drunk a little while ago and told me about her raging crush on you,” she laughs a little at your expense and Logan lets out a short chuckle. You can be a pretty sloppy drunk if they let you go too far. He figures it was one of those girl’s nights he wants nothing to do with. You’d probably let the tight reigns you keep on yourself slip for once. 

“She goes red every time she sees me. I don’t know what else that could mean other than she hates me.” Logan isn’t surprised that you’re not taken with him like he is with you. He’s used to the rejection, but it hurts just a bit more coming from you. You’re so welcoming to the others. 

You embrace every new member of the school with open arms. Yet, with him, you get angry whenever you see him. You see through his walls, see the rot lurking underneath them. And, rightfully, want nothing to do with him. He understands your reasoning. 

Most days he barely wants anything to do with himself. He’s made a lot of bad choices in his life, half of which he can’t remember. But he’d hoped, for one minute, that you might give him a second chance. As much as Jean insists otherwise, he can see the truth of how you feel about him every time you run away. 

“Red doesn’t always mean anger,” Jean tells him elusively. It’s the same thing you’d said to him on the jet. It makes his brows furrow in confusion and he glares at her. 

“What else could it mean?” He demands sharply, sick of her teasing him with the possibility you might feel the same way. 

She bites her lip, looking suddenly sheepish. “I can’t say-”

“Jean,” Logan snaps. He stops her from walking any further, keeping her planted in one spot with him. “Tell me,” he’s sick of the games you’re both playing with him. He just wants some straight fucking answers. How hard is that?

She sighs and looks away from him. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell.”

“And I’m sure you promised you also wouldn’t tell me how she feels about me,” he points out. There’s a sharp tone to his voice, it’s rude but he can’t bother feeling guilty about it. 

She can’t meet his eye, a smirk fighting at the corner of her lips. He waits impatiently for her answer, irritation broiling quickly in his gut. He’s about to snap at her again when she finally meets his eyes. 

She speaks through a laugh, like what she’s about to say is so ridiculous she can’t hold it in. “She wants,” she cuts herself off with another laugh and Logan groans in frustration. He begins to walk away from her when she yells, “She wants to fuck you!” At his back. 

His eyes widen in surprise before he turns back to her with a displeased look. “Are you fuckin’ with me?” He demands, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. 

She shakes her head and brushes past him. “You didn’t hear it from me,” she warns, tone grave as she leaves the room. 

Logan is left standing in the same spot, stunned at the revelation. He’s not sure how much of that he believes. But he doesn’t understand why Jean would possibly lie to him about this. She gains nothing by setting him up for failure. As much as he doubts the honesty behind her words, he’s got no other choice but to trust them. 

He heads to the most likely place you’re hiding out. Charles has a private library that’s blocked off from the kids. There are too many first editions in there, he can’t risk any of them accidentally blowing them up. You like to head there when you’re trying to avoid people. 

He tries to stay quiet as he walks in, not wanting you to run off again. It’s hard to confront someone who goes invisible whenever she feels like it. He sees light blue hair draped over the back of an armchair. He feels like a creep as he stalks towards you, sneaking and pouncing on you so you can’t run away. 

He can’t imagine how Jean ever thought him approaching you would be a good idea. He whispers your name, trying not to startle you. It doesn’t take a genius to see how much you hate when the others scare you. They might not mean anything bad by it, but they have to be blind not to see how much it pisses you off. 

You still jump, glancing up at him with a surprised look. He looks to your hair for any tells of how you feel. Some pink weaves its way through the stands but it otherwise stays relatively blue. His brows furrow in confusion, he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad sign that there’s no red. 

“How are ya, kid? Ran off pretty quick earlier.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you mutter, giving him a brief glare before staring absently down at the book in your hands. Logan kneels beside your armchair, covering the pages with his hand. You huff, giving him an expectant look. “Yes, Logan?” You demand, tone short.

Logan tilts his head, examining you and your body language. You seem relatively closed off, irritated at him or something else. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been good with words or trying to express how he feels. He’s more comfortable showing how much he cares for those around him. 

Throwing caution to the wind, he lets his hand drift to your wrist and tugs you forward. Your eyes widen as he drags you toward him. The kiss is short, he doesn’t want to push you too much. But it takes everything in him to stop himself from deepening it. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and devour you. 

He holds back, parting from you with a low exhale. Your eyes flutter open and he grins when he sees the bright red your hair has turned. “What,” you sputter and stumble over your words. You shove him back and leap to your feet. “What the hell was that?” You demand, voice higher than he’s ever heard of it. “What was that?” You ask him shrilly, again. 

You almost seem to be stuck in a loop, blinking rapidly and asking the same thing. Logan chuckles and gets to his feet, he gives you a knowing look and you narrow your eyes at him in disbelief. 

“Jean told me.”

Your brows furrow and you shake your head. Realization dawns on your face and you gasp, looking up at him with something like horror on your expression. “No,” you tell him lowly. “She didn’t,” it almost sounds like you’re begging him to tell you otherwise. 

He laughs again and your face falls. You start going clear, he can see the bookshelf through your stomach and he sighs. He grabs your hand, holding onto you before you can run again. You don’t even seem to be aware that you’re slowly disappearing from view. 

“She’s, uh,” he struggles to figure out what to say to make you feel better. “She’s been coaching me,” he admits shamefully. “Trying to help me talk to you.”

You glance up at him but he can barely see your expression. The only thing reassuring him you’re here is his grip on you and your voice. “What? But I thought that-” You cut yourself off quickly and Logan glares down at where he thinks your face is. 

“Thought what?”

You take a long pause and exhale deeply. “I thought,” you mutter, “you liked her.”

“She’s with Scott,” he points out bluntly. He can practically hear you roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it. 

“Yeah, I know. But you guys are always whispering to each other and making googly eyes.”

“Googly eyes?” He interrupts, disgust clear in his tone. 

“I was wrong,” you continue, ignoring him. “I see that now, but I thought you didn’t care about me.”

Logan huffs, he hates that you thought that. He should have just been open with you from the start. He’s faced rejection his whole life, he shouldn’t have been so petrified of it just because it could come from you. If he’d just manned up and told you earlier, it would have saved you both a lot of time and hurt. 

“Kid,” he hopes he’s making eye contact with you and not just staring at some random book. It’s really hard to tell when you go invisible like this. “You’re the only person I care about in here.”

You’re quiet for a long while and he worries you’ve somehow slipped away without him realizing. But, ever so slowly, you start coming back into view. Logan awkwardly averts his eyes from your breasts, he’d been hoping he was making eye contact with you, clearly, he was wrong. 

“You mean that?” You ask, and he hates the trepidation in your voice. He’s never been good with words, he doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him. But he can show you. 

His hand drifts up your arm, wrapping around the back of your neck and tugging you towards him. You trip over your feet, hands landing on his chest to stabilize yourself. He leans down, hovering over your lips for a moment. He waits until your eyes drift shut and your lips purse impatiently before he finally kisses you again. 

He doesn’t hold himself back this time. He pours every racing thought he’s ever had about you, every one of his wanted-to-tell-you-how-he-feels-and-hasn’t moments into the kiss. Your hands slowly curl up into his shirt, wrinkling it and tugging him further into you. 

To his surprise, you deepen the kiss, mouth moving over his like you want to devour him whole. He’s sure if he opened his eyes your hair would be a bright roaring red. He smirks against your lips, happy that, for once, he actually listened to Jean. If it gets him results like this, he might have to do it more often. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡ 

[beloveds-embrace]

(non-sexual smell kink with simon riley 🙂‍↕️)

Simon wasn’t used to softness.

His life had been a long stretch of damp alleyways, stale cigarettes, and the kind of bars where the floor stuck to your boots if you stood still too long. Even the so-called clean places had a lingering scent of old beer and sweat, clinging to the air like a bad memory. He’d spent years thinking that was just how life smelled- musty, metallic, a little rotten around the edges.

Then you came along.

Simon never thought of himself as a man who cared much for scents, but you ruined him without even trying. It started with something small- your presence shifting the air in a room before he even saw you. A whisper of something clean and soft, clinging to your skin like an invisible halo.

You used body powder, he’d eventually learn, the kind that puffed into the air like smoke when you dusted it over your skin, leaving a faint, lingering trail wherever you went. He’d caught the scent of it the first time he stepped into your space, expecting the usual mix of cheap air fresheners or laundry detergent. Instead, he was hit with something warm, almost nostalgic, like fresh linens and a touch of vanilla.

It drove him mad in the best way.

Simon found himself leaning in when you passed by, subtle at first- just a slight tilt of his head when you moved close enough for your scent to brush against him. Then, less subtle- pulling you against his chest after long missions, face buried in your neck, inhaling deep enough to burn the memory of you into his lungs.

“You smell so good.” He muttered once, almost embarrassed by the admission.

You’d laughed, fingers brushing against the back of his head, free of the mask. “Yeah? What do I smell like?”

He hesitated, unsure how to explain it. Saying soft didn’t make sense. Neither did safe, even though that’s what it felt like. So he settled for: “Just… really good.”

You didn’t tease him for it. Just smiled, pressed a kiss to his jaw, and let him breathe you in.

And the first time Johnny met you, he almost had the same reaction.

Simon had warned him ahead of time- half because he wanted Johnny to behave and half because he wasn’t sure how his best mate would react to seeing Simon with someone so different from everything he’d ever known.

“Don’t be an idiot.” Simon had said.

Johnny had grinned at him. “Wouldd nae dream of it.”

You’d met at a quiet pub, one of the few places Simon could tolerate. Johnny had been his usual self, easygoing and full of charm especially for Simon’s missus, but the moment you’d leaned in to shake his hand, his expression shifted.

“Steamin’ Jesus…” Johnny blurted out, blinking at you.

Your brow furrowed in confusion, and your eyes shifted in hesitance towards Simon. “Uh. Nice to meet you too?”

Simon sighed, already knowing where this was going.

Johnny sniffed the air- actually sniffed- then gave Simon a look of utter betrayal. “You never told me she smelled this good.”

You let out a startled laugh. “What?”

Simon groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t encourage him, lovie.”

Johnny, the bastard, ignored him completely. “I mean it, love, you smell incredible. It’s like-” He inhaled deeply again, thoughtful. “Powdered sugar. Or fresh sheets. Or- hell, I dunno. Just really, really nice.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well, I do use a lot of body powder.”

“Where do you get it?” Johnny asked immediately.

Simon shot him a glare. “…Why?”

Johnny grinned, waggling his brows. “So I can get some for myself, obviously.”

Simon muttered something under his breath that made Johnny laugh, but he ignored them both, turning to you instead. “Sorry, love. Just didn’t expect my best mate to be walking around smelling like a bloody bakery all the time.”

You smiled at Simon, amused. “You didn’t tell him?”

Simon crossed his arms, feeling warm in a way that had nothing to do with the pub’s heating. You looked lovely. Content. Happy, leaning into him without fear. “Didn’t think it was relevant.”

Johnny scoffed. “Not relevant? if I had a lass smellin’ this nice, I’d be bragging all day.”

Simon just shook his head, reaching for his drink. But later that night, when it was just the two of you, he tucked you against him and pressed his face into your neck, breathing deep.

You smelled like home. Like warmth. Like the one thing in his life that had never felt dirty, no matter how much blood and grime he carried with him.

And he would never, ever get enough of it.

[wonsroyalty]

METER : ̗̀➛이희승

pairings/warnings: uni student!heeseung x reader, smut, <18 DNI,, not sure what other warnings to put here yet but i'll add more later

a/n: had this idea in the drafts for a longgg time but never wrote it so i finally got to work!!

“You could never.” your friend gasped from across you.

You could and you definitely would.

For context, you’d just announced to the table that you were planning on submitting a new entry into your collective, ‘Munch O Meter’.

Yes, you had a blog that ranked the guys and girls at your university based on how well they could eat pussy. It was a way of ‘taking feminism into your own hands’ as Yunjin liked to say.

If you weren’t all beautiful and popular, the cancellation of your friend group would’ve began a longggg time ago.

However, top of the list hadn’t been topped in over 5 months and your loyal followers were getting concerned.

Jake Sim had given Hyeju a ‘cosmic’ orgasm and she’d rated him a 97. Out of disbelief, you all took turns hooking up with him and truth be told he truly was as good as she’d said.

His average score was 90, placing him at the top of the list.

For the sake of your entertainment and theirs, you proposed an unexpected candidate.

Deep down you just wanted to see if he was a virgin but disguising your intrigue as concern for the list worked perfectly.

“Lee Heeseung..?” Yooyeon looked at you as if you’d just shit on her plate. “Seriously.”

Yunjin shook her head.

“Definitely not.”

You slouched in your chair sulking.

Whenever they put people forward, you encouraged their suggestions, thinking of their fun rather than the entertainment of the blog.

“I literally never suggest anyone.” you whined. “Just let me have this.”

“No.” Yunjin firmly shut you down.

Hyeju gave you a pat on the head, attempting to comfort you.

“But why?!” you sat up abruptly, slamming your hands on the table accidentally.

“Who even is he? If his name doesn’t ring a bell, he shouldn’t even be considered.” she doubled down.

You sighed exasperatedly.

Heeseung had come over to the table not even five minutes before, handing you the notes from music theory during your group brainstorming for the next candidate.

“He was that nerd.” Yooyeon explained to her. “The one with the baggy clothes and glasses that kept falling down his nose.”

“He’s really nice.” you frowned.

“Nice doesn’t cut it.” Yunjin shook her head. “If he’s a bad fuck you’ll just ruin his chances of getting with anyone else.”

Fed up with their resistance you swiped your bag off the table and announced that you were going to do it anyway.

Despite the protests sent your way you stormed off to find Heeseung.

There was only one place he could be - the library.

And that’s where you found him. Buried behind a pile of books while sipping on one of those cheap energy drinks.

You were just glad that you weren’t giving him a blowjob, out of fear that his sweat would reek.

Your fingers tapped his shoulder rapidly.

“Heeseung!” you sang.

“Shut up.” his friend who you knew as Jay, snapped at you.

You held your hands up, surrendering.

“Um.. Yn? What wrong?” Heeseung panicked. “Were my notes bad? Oh my Pythagoras, did I miss out anything!”

“Shut up!” Jay snapped again.

You shook your head.

“I just need to talk to you… over there.” you pointed towards the book shelves.

He didn’t even have time to respond before you were yanking him out of his seat, ignoring the books that toppled to the ground.

“I have a problem..” you started.

Now that he was up close in a tight space and you were asking for such a shameful act, the embarrassment caught up to you.

“Am I your last resort?” he asked.

“No!” you panicked. “My first….”

He held his hand awkwardly on your shoulder.

“It’s okay. What can I help you with?”

Your brain registered where you were and who you were with. The warmth of his hand felt nice but you had a reputation to uphold.

You shoved his arm off and he immediately gained composure, but not in the way that you wanted.

He wouldn’t hold eye contact with you anymore, feeling the weight of your different status’.

“I wanna enter you into the Munch O Meter.” you bashfully answered.

His head whipped towards yours.

“What the fuck.”

You covered your face with your fingers, curling into yourself.

“You stopped my studying for this joke? Are you kidding?” he glared before storming off.

Your fingers grasped at his jacket, pulling him back.

“I’m not joking.” you confess. “I don’t usually pick people but I wanna choose you.”

He scanned your eyes looking for any hint of doubt but couldn’t find any.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly.

“Yes. I’m definitely sure.” you stepped back.

He bit his fist to stop himself from squealing.

“Jay is gonna be so shocked.” he looked over at his friend. “One thing though,”

“Whatever you want.” you replied. “It’s the least I could do to be honest.”

“We need to get ramen, first.” Heeseung nodded calmly.

You smile dropped. “Fucking.. Ramen?”

“I promised Jay I’d get him some.” he shrugged, unbothered and not in a rush at all. “And i’m kinda hungry.”

You fought the urge to walk away then and there. Choosing to stick to the plan for your own pride. Going back to the lunch table would be way too embarrassing.

“Fine. I’ll pay.” you stormed off to their table.

Heeseung trailed after you packing up his things.

“What are you doing?” Jay huffed.

You yanked him out of his seat.

“Hurry up, we’ve got an errand to run.”

***

The whole way to the ramen place, you were forced to listen to their atrocious science jokes. You were smart enough to understand them but the quantity was overkill.

It was surprisingly close to your apartment so that was a bonus, you could ditch Jay as soon as they’d eaten and get on with what you wanted.

You paid and sat waiting for them to start eating.

Jay wasted no time but Heeseung looked skeptical.

“Why aren’t you eating?” he asked.

“Not hungry.” you shrugged.

“Eating ramen isn’t gonna make your pussy taste weird.” he deadpanned.

An old lady sat near the three of you gave you a look.

“Keep it down, will you.” you growled. “I said I wasn’t hungry.”

“Suit yourself.” Jay slurped. “If you tasted like ramen, he’d eat you out better.”

You flicked him in the head, his vulgar response had sent the old lady away.

Heeseung finally began to eat and you saw what Jay meant.

His eyes closed in pure bliss and he inhaled the food.

You hated how the noises coming from his mouth went straight to the pulsing sensation between your legs.

He didn’t even stop when he’d eaten all the noodles, gulping down the leftover soup without a care in the world. Even licking the bowl to not waste a drop.

You’d never wanted to be a bowl so badly.

“Is it good..?” you croaked out.

“Fuck, that tasted amazing.” he wiped at his face with a napkin. “You would’ve liked it.”

“Yeah..? Fuck.” you moaned out. “We’re going now. Bye Jay.”

You jumped to your feet bouncing impatiently as you watched Heeseung clean up.

“So when will I be on the list?” Jay joked.

“Idk. When we have a threesome or something.” you absentmindedly responded, pushing Heeseung’s arms into his coat.

You missed the way Jay began to choke on his spit, as you were busy shoving Heeseung out of the door.

“Someone’s needy, heh.” he rubbed the back of his head.

“No, it’s worse than that.” you sighed.

Heeseung stumbled after you as you dragged him to your apartment.

The two of you stood in silence as the elevator took you up.

"Are you okay?" Heeseung asked. " Do you still want to do this?"

You didn't respond and instead attacked his lips as soon as he’d kicked his shoes off in your apartment.

"That's not an answer." he pulled away.

"Fuck yeah. I still want this." you responded, dazed by his lips.

You bit, sucked and kissed at every piece of skin available.

He pulled you off by your hair. “Am I not here to eat you out?”

Your hands grabbed his, taking him across the apartment and into your bedroom.

He lightly pushed you onto your bed and hovered over you, placing light kisses on your lips.

His lips messily made their way down to your neck, stopping at the spot where he hear you cry out the loudest.

"Wait," you panted. "Have you done this before?"

You felt his hair brush against your cheek as he shook his head.

"Really?" you sat up.

Yes, you'd thought he was a virgin but but hearing the confirmation made your heart jump for joy.

"I've had sex before, just.. never eaten a girl out." he shrugged.

"Oh."

"Not what you thought, huh?" he squinted.

You scrambled to change your expression.

"That's not what I thought-"

Heeseung used his palm to smush your face into the mattress. Upon hearing you complain he shoved two fingers into your mouth, pushing them further down till you gagged.

"Shhh. Please just stop talking, oh my."

Your eyes widened in shock.

"Who are you talking to like that?" Is what you would've said if you didn't have fingers playing with your uvula.

He moved down to your shirt, popping each button with one hand but by his expression, you could tell he was getting frustrated. The fingers in your mouth popped out and moved to help slip you out of your shirt before unclasping your bra.

Heeseung took a second to fold the items and place them on your bedside table.

"Can you hurry up- Wait, fuck!"

He took your newly exposed breasts into his hands, twisting your tender nipples, painfully.

"What did I tell you?"

You scoffed.

"You can't actually expect me to be quiet. That's- Ow!"

He leant down and took a nipple into his mouth, biting down with his teeth, swirling his warm tongue around it before popping off.

"Shut up."

All the talk went down to where you desperately needed him the most.

Heeseung kissed down your stomach, hesitating at your skirt before unzipping it and folding it with the rest of your clothes.

You watched as his eyes widened at the sight of the wet patch on your panties as he dragged them down slowly.

"Do you always get this wet?" he asked in awe.

You shook your head feeling the embarrassment of being completely bare in front of him while he was fully clothed and composed in front of you.

"So that's your kink." he laughed. "Crazy, but I'm not surprised that you're kinda freaky."

"Shut up, Heeseung. I swear I'll-"

He sighed loudly, interrupting you once again.

"Didn't I tell you to keep your mouth closed?"

He lowered his body down the bed so that his face was eye level with your pussy, eyes wide and curious.

Cold air blew onto your clit as he watched you clench around nothing.

"Fascinating how the female anatomy works."

You sat up, resting on your arms.

"You're gonna turn me off, stop being weird!"

He looked at you as though you'd just called his mother a bitch but didn't respond.

Two of his fingers gathered the slick dripping out of you and lathered it all over your clit, switching up the tempo randomly.

Your head fell back, legs widening in pleasure.

"Cool..." he drawled. "You know you've got more than 10,000 nerve fibers here, right?"

Your arms collapsed from underneath you as you moaned out.

"Wow. When I actually want you to speak, you don't."

He experimentally slipped two fingers into your cunt, feeling around as he kept his other hand circling.

Your legs closed around his shoulders as you gripped onto your sheets when he found the spot that usually had you screaming.

You felt Heeseung speed up the pace as you gushed all over his fingers, orgasming faster than expected.

"Are you sure that was your first time?" you gasped for air.

The boy between your legs was clearly distracted.

He licked at the release leaving your pussy, closing his eyes in pure bliss before sticking his tongue in.

You rapidly fought to push his head away.

"No. No more." you sighed.

"I know you can get another one." he rested his head against your thigh.

"I really can't." you shook your head.

"Stop lying." he frowned.

"I'm not lying!" you lip dropped in shock.

"Jake literally made you cum four times and yet you don't want me to do it again. Right."

You sighed from your gut.

"But.. I'm tired." you looked away from his piercing gaze. "And since when did you even speak to Jake?"

"Good thing you don't have to actually do anything." Heeseung scoffed before diving back in.

Your fingers curled into the duvet again as he quickly found a steady pace.

"Heeseung, I really can't." you whimpered.

He picked up the tempo in response, slurping and sticking his tongue as far into you as he could.

"Hee! Please." your weak arms attempted to push him away.

He continued to ignore you, your body setting alight as you got closer to a state of other-worldly pleasure.

"Heeseung, Jake lied!" you cried out. "I can't take it- I can't."

Heeseung seemed to reach a spot even deeper than you had ever tried, the constant stimulation had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Your hips bucked against his face uncontrollably as you got closer to your impending doom.

A loud moan left your lips as your entire body went rigid.

"Hee, fuck!"

In the midst of the best pleasure you'd ever felt you peeked an eye open to see how Heeseung was reacting.

He had his eyes closed and his tongue wide out as he tried to catch ever drop of the release you'd squirted out.

Your chest heaved as you attempted to get a breath in, causing him to open his eyes abruptly.

"Wait what." he frowned.

"Jake, he lied. I only came twice and that was because he fucking edged me for two hours. But I gave him a high score because I didn't know who told him about how I always squirt the second time." you confessed in a ramble.

Heeseung hopped off the bed shaking his head at how you picked at a thread on your duvet to avoid looking at him. He slipped off his boxers and jeans waiting for you to finish you sentence.

"I don't even recommend people for the list because my ex told me it was weird how I always squirt and since then I've just felt embarrassed so I don't fuck people, well aside from Jake because I didn't believe Hyeju, but I wanted to put you forward because, I don't know, I'm kind of admitting that I do in fact have a crush on you and this was like the only way I could get you to not be scared to talk to me outside of class and yeah I overheard you and Jay talking about it in Music Theory, truly shameless-"

Within a split second you had a dick shoved down your throat.

"Fuckk." he moaned out. "Didn't I tell you to stop talking."

He raked your hair into a makeshift ponytail for easier access to use you how he wanted.

"You just don't listen." he sighed, gagging you over and over.

If you weren't sweating before, you definitely were now.

Your hands gripped onto his thighs for dear life as he ruthlessly used your mouth.

"I can't focus on the moment when you keep speaking." he looked you in the eye. "And I know it sounds mean but, fuck, I didn't think we were ever gonna do this again, so I obviously wanted to have a good memory of right now."

His fingers left your hair, head falling back onto your pillows.

You grabbed them and pulled them back.

"You're so hot." he moaned. "And your ex is a fucking imbecilic, doltish prick. He didn't deserve you."

You sure as hell weren't letting Heeseung escape your grasp after this. You used one hand to jerk off whatever you couldn't reach while the other fondled his balls. His hips thrust up into you uncontrollably as he let himself go.

He watched in surprise as you swallowed every last drop before composing himself and walking over to the pile of folded clothes.

"Hee, where are you going?"

He gestured towards the door.

You tilted your head in confusion.

"I wasn't kidding when I said I liked you, come back here!"

He laughed in disbelief, landing on your bed and pulling you into his embrace.

"You like me?"

You nodded.

"I have for a while actually."

He kissed the top of your head as you reached to get your phone.

Bitchless Bitches😩

yn

heeseung lee - 100

yunjin🪼

YOU IM GONNA FWJOFNQ

hyeju🌺

OHHH so that's where you went

yooyeon🐰

how do we know that he's actually that good..

hyeju🌺

PREACH

if hes a 100 let me at him🥰

yn

no. off limits.

Heeseung laughed at your messages.

"Next time we'll actually fuck." You nodded with determination as you put your phone away.

"Next time?" he gasped in shock.

"Duh. You can't leave now."

"Wow you really want that threesome with Jay."

"What threesome with Jay?"

[shy9-29]

In Too Deep | 이희승

이희승 x reader

“I don’t know when it stopped being fake… but I don’t think I can pretend anymore.” In a whirlwind of old grudges, fake dating, and unexpected feelings, two sworn enemies find themselves tangled in something that feels a little too real. And once the lines blur, there’s no going back.

genre: enemies to lovers, fake relationship, uni romance

📝 I honestly don’t know what I was thinking while writing this. This is an old ff because I’m stuck on a ff I’m writing on rn but hopefully you’ll like it.

wc. 6.1k · masterlist · rq open

It all started three years ago, the night of the infamous graduation party at Heeseung’s place.

The air had been thick with summer heat, cheap cologne, and the excitement of finally being free from high school. You hadn’t even wanted to go at first, but your friends had dragged you along, promising one last memory before everyone went their separate ways. And you did make a memory—just not the kind you ever wanted.

You drank too much. Way too much. Maybe it was the nerves, or maybe it was the way Heeseung kept flashing that smug smile, acting like the king of the party. You weren’t sure. But by the end of the night, you ended up throwing up in the middle of his parents’ living room. Right in front of everyone. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Jake—Heeseung’s best friend—caught it on video and thought it would be hilarious to post it online.

The video went viral in your town overnight. By morning, your name wasn’t just trending in group chats—it was practically a meme. You were humiliated, and Heeseung? He didn’t even bother taking the video down. In fact, he laughed about it. That was the moment you swore you’d hate him forever.

And so you did.

From the moment you stepped foot on campus, you ignored him. Avoided him. Exchanged icy glares when your paths crossed. You became the girl who bounced back, worked hard, and made a name for herself. And he remained the golden boy, cocky and untouchable.

For three years, you stayed in your own lanes. Until one day, out of nowhere, Heeseung looked you dead in the eye and asked, “Will you pretend to be my girlfriend?”

They were the prettiest pair on campus—and everyone knew it, even if they never stood side by side long enough for the full effect to settle in. The most talked-about students in the most elite university in Seoul. Separately, they turned heads. Together, they could’ve stopped traffic.

You had the kind of beauty that made people pause. Skin that seemed to glow under the sun, shiny hair that, just for today, you’d styled into soft waves. You wore light blue baggy jeans that cinched perfectly at your waist and a simple white summer short-sleeve top that gave off an effortlessly pretty vibe—like you hadn’t tried, but still looked perfect.

Heeseung, on the other hand, stood tall at 6’0, with fair skin and striking maroon hair that somehow looked both bold and natural on him. Today he was in a black zip-up hoodie over a white tee, paired with matching baggy blue jeans that made him look effortlessly cool—as usual. His vibe was more “couldn’t care less,” but the way people looked at him said otherwise.

It didn’t matter that the two of you hated each other. In fact, maybe that made it even more entertaining to watch. Beauty and tension had a way of making sparks fly—and everyone else could feel the fire, even if you both kept pretending there was none.

You blinked at him, thinking you’d heard wrong. “What?”

Heeseung leaned against the wall casually, arms crossed over his chest, like he hadn’t just said the most ridiculous thing you’d heard in your entire life. “Be my fake girlfriend.”

You stared at him. Then laughed. Out loud.

“Are you serious right now?” you scoffed, taking a step back like the words themselves were contagious. “Why would I ever do that?”

He didn’t flinch. Just looked at you with that same unreadable expression he always wore—somewhere between bored and amused. “Because you’re the only one who won’t actually fall for me.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Flattering,” you muttered sarcastically, turning to walk away. “Find someone else, Heeseung. I’m not interested in being part of whatever mess this is.”

But he caught your wrist gently, just enough to make you pause. “Wait. Just listen—”

You yanked your hand back. “I don’t owe you anything. Least of all after what happened three years ago.”

Heeseung’s jaw tensed. For a split second, something flickered in his eyes—something like guilt—but it disappeared too quickly to name.

“It’s fake,” he said quietly. “No feelings. Just for show. A few weeks, tops.”

You shook your head. “I’d rather kiss a cactus.”

And with that, you walked away, heart pounding harder than you wanted to admit.

You didn’t look back, even though you could feel his eyes on you the entire time you walked down the hallway. Your steps were firm, but your thoughts were anything but.

Be my fake girlfriend.

What kind of audacity did Heeseung even run on?

You tried to shake it off the rest of the day—distracted yourself with lectures, group chats, anything to stop thinking about the nerve he had. But his voice kept echoing in your head. The way he said it so casually, like it made perfect sense. Like you were the only logical option.

By the time your last class ended, the group chat with your friends was already blowing up.

Yuna: Girl. Tell me why Heeseung’s been walking around looking like someone just slapped him?

Jisoo: Wait wasn’t he talking to you earlier? What did he say??

You: Nothing. He’s insane. Pretend I never mentioned it.

Yuna: You didn’t mention it, but now you have to.

You sighed, not replying. The campus buzzed around you as you made your way across the quad, but you felt out of it—half stuck in the present, half stuck in that stupid party from three years ago.

Heeseung had humiliated you. Even if he didn’t film it himself, he let it spread. Never apologized. Never cared. And now he wanted you to play pretend in some weird PR stunt or whatever his problem was?

You walked past the library—and of course, he was there. Sitting on the steps. Waiting.

You froze.

He looked up from his phone, spotted you, and stood slowly, like he knew you wouldn’t run this time.

And maybe… maybe you wouldn’t. Not yet.

Heeseung was still the same old popular jerk.

Cocky smirk? Check. Effortless charm? Still there. Girls trailing behind him like he was the second coming of a K-drama lead? Absolutely. And you? You weren’t much different. You had your own crowd, your own reputation, and enough confidence to walk past him without sparing a second glance—most days, at least.

But today was different.

He was still standing on the library steps when you approached, like he had all the time in the world. His maroon hair caught the sunlight, and that familiar smug expression tugged at the corner of his mouth as soon as he saw you.

“You’re still thinking about it,” he said before you could even open your mouth.

You crossed your arms. “I came here to tell you no. Again.”

“Sure you did.” He grinned. “That’s why you didn’t block me after I asked. You’re curious.”

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t block you because I have better things to do. Like ignoring your existence.”

He chuckled softly, then rubbed the back of his neck—something surprisingly awkward for someone who was usually all confidence. “Look, I didn’t mean to ambush you. I just… didn’t know who else to ask.”

You raised a brow. “You’re Heeseung. You could literally point at someone and they’d say yes.”

He hesitated. “Yeah, well… that’s kind of the problem.”

You stared at him, waiting for the rest.

He sighed. “My parents. They’re coming to visit next month. And they’ve been on my ass about dating. ‘You’re getting older, when will you settle down?’” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “They think I’m some hopeless flirt who can’t take anything seriously.”

You blinked. “They’re not wrong.”

He gave you a look. “Not helping.”

You tilted your head. “So… your big plan is to trick them with a fake girlfriend? And you chose me? The girl who hates your guts?”

Heeseung shrugged. “Exactly. You’re the last person they’d think I’d date. Which makes it more believable. If I can ‘convince’ you to fall for me, maybe they’ll back off.”

You stared at him, lips parted in disbelief.

He just looked at you, calm and confident like always, and said, “So? You in, or do I need to bribe you with something?”

You squinted at him for a long moment, arms still crossed as you weighed the absurdity of the situation. Honestly, part of you wanted to walk away again. Tell him to shove his plan and leave you alone.

But then… an idea started forming. A devilish, slow-burning idea that made your lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile.

“Okay,” you said finally.

Heeseung’s brows lifted. “Okay?”

“I’ll do it.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Wait—seriously?”

You nodded. “But I want a bribe.”

He smirked, stepping forward slightly, voice dropping an octave. “What, you want free coffee every day? Access to my Netflix account? A kiss or two to make it look real—?”

You held up your hand to shut him up. “Relax, Casanova. Not even close.”

Now he looked confused. “Then what?”

You smiled sweetly—too sweetly. The kind of smile that meant trouble. “If I agree to be your fake girlfriend… I get to post something humiliating about you.”

Heeseung blinked. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me. Just one post. Could be a picture, a video, a story. Something that makes you the joke for once.”

His face twisted in disbelief, like the thought had never even crossed his mind. “You’re serious?”

“As a hangover on grad night,” you replied, your tone sugarcoated and smug. “You humiliated me three years ago. This levels the playing field.”

Heeseung ran a hand through his maroon hair, letting out a breathy laugh like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re insane.”

You grinned wider. “And you’re desperate.”

He stared at you for a second longer… then sighed and held out his hand. “Fine. Deal.”

You took it, shaking once.

The moment your hand left his, you felt it—that shift in the air. Like you had just signed up for something much more dangerous than a fake relationship.

Heeseung gave you a crooked grin, one brow raised. “You’re really going to post something embarrassing of me?”

You nodded, smug. “Absolutely. And it’s going to be good.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was something amused flickering behind his usual cocky front. “Fine. Just remember, you’re my girlfriend now. Even fake ones have reputations to protect.”

You smirked. “Please. I’ve survived worse than being seen with you.”

“You’re not wrong,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, we start tomorrow. My parents are in town for a charity dinner next week, so we have—what?—seven days to look madly in love.”

You blinked. “Wait—tomorrow?”

“What? Gotta build the illusion,” he said, already pulling out his phone. “We’re gonna need a story highlight, at least three posts together, and maybe a casual paparazzi shot. You know, something that screams we’re disgustingly happy.”

You stared at him. “You’re taking this way too seriously.”

He didn’t even look up as he started typing. “If I’m doing this, I’m doing it right.”

You suddenly remembered why you hated him in the first place—he was the kind of person who could make faking a relationship feel like prepping for war. And you were now officially enlisted.

“Fine,” you said. “But don’t forget our deal.”

He glanced up at you, that annoying spark of amusement back in his eyes. “Trust me. I won’t.”

You turned to leave, already planning your revenge post in your head—maybe that one photo of him from freshman year in the dorm hallway wearing a pink bunny headband and mismatched socks. Or that video from the campus talent show where his voice cracked mid high note.

Yeah. This was going to be fun.

The next morning, your phone buzzed before your alarm even had the chance to go off. You groaned, rolled over, and saw a notification:

Heeseung [6:38 AM]

Rise and shine, girlfriend. I’ll pick you up in 30. Wear something cute.

You stared at the message for a full five seconds, then typed back:

You [6:39 AM]

Die.

You threw the covers over your face, cursing yourself for ever agreeing to this. But a deal was a deal, and if playing his girlfriend meant finally serving him a slice of his own humiliation, you’d survive.

Barely.

By 7:15, you were waiting outside your building, hair tied up in a lazy ponytail, a cropped hoodie over a black tank, and fitted cargo pants—cute enough, in your opinion. When Heeseung pulled up, he had one hand on the wheel and a smug grin already locked and loaded.

“You clean up nice,” he said, leaning over to push the passenger door open.

You got in without looking at him. “You said ‘fake girlfriend.’ You didn’t say anything about being a morning person.”

He laughed as he pulled away from the curb. “We’re going on a coffee date. Gotta give the people something to talk about.”

“People? What people?” you frowned.

He just held up his phone.

And of course—his Instagram story was already up:

A boomerang of two coffees in a to-go tray with the caption:

“Coffee date with my girl.”

Heart emoji and all.

You stared at it in horror. “You tagged me?!”

He grinned. “Well yeah. Gotta make it official.”

You snatched his phone. “Delete it.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Too late. Already got 23 DMs asking if hell froze over.”

You groaned, sinking lower into the seat. “You’re the worst.”

“No,” he said, shooting you a quick side glance, “I’m the boyfriend.”

You looked at him, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. This was going to be exhausting. But strangely… it was already kind of entertaining.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But I’m getting my revenge post by the end of the week.”

He smirked. “Can’t wait to see what you dig up.”

You already had three folders.

Let the games begin.

The next few days flew by in a blur of fake smiles, staged moments, and way too many coffee dates. Every time you tried to go somewhere on your own, Heeseung would be there—casually showing up like he had nothing better to do. And each time, he’d pull out his phone and take a picture or video, making it look like the two of you were the perfect couple.

You hated it. But part of you had to admit, you were starting to get into it—just not for the reasons he thought. The more time you spent with him, the more you realized how easy it was to annoy him. How easy it was to mess with his perfectly curated world. And that was exactly what you intended to do.

On the fourth day, you had your first official “couple picture” together. The location? A park in the middle of campus, where everyone could see. You wore a cute dress, a bit too much effort for your usual taste, but Heeseung insisted it was “important for the vibe.” He, of course, looked effortlessly cool in a graphic tee and his usual baggy jeans. You both stood side by side, his arm casually slung over your shoulders, looking casually in love. But in reality, you could barely suppress your smirk as you snapped the photo for his Instagram.

He posted it immediately with the caption:

“Mines Only”

You took the opportunity to really ruin it.

That night, after he had sent you his “thank you for the cute post” text, you sent him one back. You didn’t mention the post. You didn’t mention anything. Instead, you simply sent a photo from the same park—an unflattering, grainy shot of him mid-laugh, where he looked like he was choking on a piece of gum.

The caption?

“When he tells you he’s ‘not like other guys’… but then you see this.”

You held your breath as you waited for his response.

Seconds later, your phone buzzed.

Heeseung [11:02 PM]: Are you serious?

You smirked, typing back:

You [11:02 PM]: I said I was getting my revenge post by the end of the week. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it cute next time (maybe)

He didn’t reply immediately, but you could practically feel his annoyance radiating through the phone. That was the beauty of being his “girlfriend”—you could make him squirm without ever touching a thing that mattered to him.

You hadn’t thought much of it when you posted the photo. It was meant to be harmless payback—just a little jab to keep Heeseung on his toes. You figured people would laugh, maybe tease him for a day or two, and that would be it.

But when you stepped onto campus the next morning, something was… off.

People were staring. Whispering. Smiling.

A girl from your communications class stopped you in the hallway with a dreamy sigh. “That post you made last night… oh my God, you two are literally goals.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

She giggled. “It’s just so real, you know? Everyone’s always posting those perfect, filtered couple pictures, but yours was like—raw, and genuine. You didn’t try to make him look perfect, and that somehow made it even cuter.”

You stared at her in disbelief, only managing a nod before she walked off. Then it happened again. And again. People you barely knew were suddenly giving you heart eyes, acting like you and Heeseung were some kind of rom-com come to life.

By the time you reached the student lounge, two professors had walked past whispering, “Did you see that post? The one with Heeseung and yn? It’s adorable!”

You nearly choked.

And of course, right in the center of the attention storm was Heeseung, sitting back in a chair with one leg crossed over the other, sipping on an iced americano like he hadn’t just been unintentionally turned into everyone’s favorite golden retriever boyfriend.

You stormed up to him. “What the hell is happening?”

He grinned, tilting his head. “You mean the part where we accidentally became the most talked-about couple on campus?”

“Yes! Why are people acting like I posted a love letter instead of blackmail?”

He laughed. Actually laughed. “Because you did it wrong.”

“I made you look like you were choking.”

“Exactly,” he said, standing and slinging an arm over your shoulder like it was second nature. “People love that stuff. It makes us look real. Like we’re actually in love and don’t care how we look. It’s disgusting. They’re eating it up.”

You groaned, trying to shake him off, but his grip stayed firm. “This was not the plan.”

“Well,” he said, shrugging, “you made me look human. And apparently, the school’s obsessed with the idea of Lee Heeseung being whipped.”

You scowled. “You are not whipped.”

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear. “But maybe I’ll start pretending to be. Just to sell it.”

Your breath caught for half a second, which only made his smirk grow.

The worst part? You couldn’t tell if he was still playing the game… or if he was starting to enjoy it.

“I am good at this,” he replied without missing a beat. “Have you seen the comments? People are begging for wedding invites.”

You scoffed. “Gross. Delusional.”

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the post, reading aloud dramatically, “‘If this isn’t love, I don’t want it. OMG the way he looks at her!! UGH, my standards are ruined.’” He looked up with a smug grin. “You ruined them, Y/N. Feel powerful?”

You snatched his phone and scrolled for yourself—and yep, the comments were out of control.

@robertwu: Wait why is this the cutest couple content I’ve seen all year??

@ksy.97: Y/N posting that photo like a tired girlfriend who loves her dumb man. I’m crying.

@x_we1: Heeseung in love??? This era is feeding us well.

You blinked. “They really think this is real?”

Heeseung leaned casually against the wall beside you, watching your reaction with that annoyingly entertained expression. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is,” you snapped. “This was supposed to be harmless. A joke. A fake relationship. And now people are shipping us like we’re some webtoon couple with a tragic backstory and a soft boy redemption arc.”

He grinned. “You’ve been reading fan comments, haven’t you?”

You opened your mouth to argue, then shut it with a glare.

“I told you,” he said, nudging your arm with his elbow, “people love mess. And this is their favorite kind—the hot, mysterious enemies-to-lovers storyline.”

You nearly choked. “Lovers?! Calm down, Romeo.”

He just laughed, brushing past you to head down the hall. “Come on, fake girlfriend. You’re walking me to class. Public display of affection and all that.”

You stood there for a second, mentally screaming, before dragging your feet to follow him. This whole thing was spiraling out of control. What started as a stupid plan for revenge had turned into a campus-wide fantasy.

But the worst part?

For the first time since that party three years ago…

You weren’t entirely sure you hated being seen with him.

One week later.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, still not believing what you were about to do.

Charity dinner. With his parents.

In heels, a satin slip dress, a necklace Heeseung had casually handed you earlier that morning with a smug, “It’ll make you look expensive.” You’d thrown a pillow at his head for that, but you wore it anyway.

You were supposed to hate him. Still did—technically. But somehow, between the fake Instagram posts, the morning texts, the way he always had an iced latte waiting for you before your 9 a.m. class, and the fact that he now walked you to said class like a real boyfriend… something had shifted.

You didn’t want to think too hard about it.

When you walked out to the front of your building, Heeseung was already waiting by the car, wearing a sleek black suit and the same damn smirk that made your blood boil and your stomach twist at the same time.

He turned when he heard your footsteps—and for once, he didn’t say anything stupid. He just stared.

“You’re staring,” you said flatly.

“You’re hot,” he replied just as flatly. “Don’t make it weird.”

You gave him a glare, but you couldn’t fight the heat rising in your cheeks as he opened the car door for you.

The car ride was quieter than usual—no teasing, no arguing. Just your phone buzzing with new notifications from people commenting on the photo he’d posted twenty minutes ago.

You and Heeseung in front of the car, your hand on his chest, his chin tilted toward you like he was about to kiss you. It wasn’t even a real moment—you’d taken it as a joke—but he posted it anyway.

“Dinner with the girl who’s ruining my peace and I kinda like it.”

Captioned, of course, with a heart and a black tie emoji.

By the time you arrived at the venue, half the university had already liked the post.

Heeseung leaned in close as you both stepped out. “Ready to meet the people who think I’m still twelve and incapable of monogamy?”

You sighed. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He paused. “Hey.”

You looked up.

He smiled—no smirk this time, just something softer, something that felt… real. “Thanks for doing this.”

You opened your mouth to say something sarcastic—anything—but the words didn’t come.

Because somewhere in the mess of fake posts and planned appearances…

This started feeling less like a lie.

The moment you stepped into the ballroom, arm looped through Heeseung’s, all eyes turned toward you.

You looked around, trying to keep your expression neutral—poised, even. But your heart was doing backflips. This wasn’t some cute café date or a casual run-in on campus. This was a high-end, wine-glass-clinking, string-quartet-playing charity gala… filled with Seoul’s elite. People in suits and gowns. His parents. His actual parents.

“You good?” Heeseung whispered beside you, leaning in slightly, his breath brushing your ear.

You gave him a sharp look. “No. But I’ll survive.”

He smiled. “You’ll do great. Just stay close to me.”

You wanted to snap back with something sassy—maybe “Don’t flatter yourself”—but instead, you nodded. Because truthfully, his steady presence next to you was the only thing keeping your nerves from boiling over.

As you walked through the room, people began coming up to greet him.

“Lee Heeseung! You’ve grown so much. And who’s this lovely young lady?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “My girlfriend, Y/N.”

You felt his fingers gently squeeze yours.

Each time someone approached, he’d introduce you with the same ease, that same little tilt of pride in his voice. And each time, you’d smile, nod, say something polite—like this wasn’t the strangest, most out-of-body experience of your life.

And then came the real challenge.

His parents.

His mother spotted you from across the room first—elegant, graceful, and dressed in a deep navy gown that screamed old money. His father stood beside her, equally intimidating in a crisp tailored suit.

“Oh,” she said with a warm but curious smile as you and Heeseung approached. “So you’re the girl he’s been refusing to shut up about.”

You blinked. “He… what?”

“Mooom,” Heeseung groaned quietly under his breath.

But it was too late.

His mom took your hands and gave you a smile so genuine, it caught you off guard. “Heeseung’s never brought anyone to an event like this before. We were starting to think he’d sworn off love.”

You glanced up at him, expecting his usual cocky comeback, but he was quiet—just watching you with something unreadable in his eyes.

“Thank you for coming,” his father added with a respectful nod. “It’s good to see him with someone who balances him out.”

You swallowed, managing a smile. “It’s… it’s been nice. Unexpected. But nice.”

The conversation shifted as a server passed with champagne, and the moment loosened. Still, you could feel Heeseung watching you—closely, carefully.

Later, as you stood near one of the windows overlooking the city lights, he stepped beside you again, slipping his hand back into yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re killing it,” he said softly.

You looked at him. “You didn’t tell me your parents were actually nice.”

He chuckled. “You looked like you were expecting to be interrogated.”

“I was.”

He shifted to face you, his expression unreadable again. “But you still came.”

You shrugged. “A deal’s a deal.”

“Right,” he said, but his voice was quieter this time. “A deal.”

There was a beat of silence—just the distant music and low voices in the background. Then, before you could overthink it, Heeseung leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

You froze.

And not because of the cameras. Not because of the act.

But because it felt… real.

And when you turned to look at him—really look—you realized he wasn’t acting either.

And more like the beginning of something you didn’t know how to fake anymore.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, frozen, staring up at him. Because in that moment—after the temple kiss, after his hand had instinctively tightened around yours, after that soft, unreadable look in his eyes—you knew something had shifted.

This wasn’t for show anymore.

And from the way Heeseung was looking at you, he knew it too.

But neither of you said a word.

Not yet.

You turned your eyes back to the window, heart thudding in your chest as you tried to will the warmth off your cheeks. Heeseung stayed beside you, unusually quiet. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something more careful, more sincere. And it scared you a little, how easy it was to stand next to him like this—like the two of you weren’t faking it. Like this was just… normal.

And maybe that was the most dangerous part of all.

“Wanna get out of here?” he said after a while, voice low, almost hesitant.

You blinked, surprised. “Now?”

He nodded. “We showed face. You survived my parents. I don’t think I can listen to another speech about tax reform and philanthropy.”

You exhaled a quiet laugh, nodding. “Let’s go.”

Within ten minutes, you were both in his car again, but this time there was no music playing. Just the sound of the engine humming softly and the occasional flicker of headlights outside. It wasn’t awkward—it was… heavy. Like the air between you was packed with all the things neither of you knew how to say yet.

Heeseung pulled into a quiet overlook on the edge of the city. The view was unreal—Seoul lit up in gold and silver, buildings stretching into the clouds like stars had landed on earth.

Neither of you moved to get out. Instead, you sat there for a second. Breathing.

Then, finally, he broke the silence.

“I was supposed to hate you, you know.”

You glanced over.

“That night at the party… after Jake posted that video… I was pissed at you for months. Not because you threw up. But because I saw how fast people turned on you. And I hated how much I cared.”

Your breath hitched.

He wasn’t smiling.

He wasn’t smirking.

He was just honest.

“I didn’t want to care about the girl who glared at me in the halls every day. But I did,” he said. “And then this whole fake thing happened, and somewhere between faking it and fighting you, I stopped pretending I wasn’t completely—”

“Don’t say it,” you cut in quickly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes searched yours. “Why?”

“Because if you say it…” You swallowed. “I don’t think I’ll be able to keep pretending either.”

He was quiet for a second. Then he reached over slowly, gently, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered on your cheek for just a second too long.

And then he whispered—

“I stopped pretending a long time ago.”

And for the first time since that deal was made…

You weren’t sure if this was fake anymore.

And maybe—just maybe—you didn’t want it to be.

The words hung there in the silence between you—“I stopped pretending a long time ago.”

And you didn’t know what scared you more.

The fact that he said it…

Or the fact that you believed him.

Your heart was thudding so loudly you swore it echoed inside the car. You didn’t respond right away. Couldn’t. Because all this time, you thought you had the upper hand—you had the control, the blackmail, the motive. It was just a game. A mess of fake smiles and photo ops and revenge.

But the way Heeseung was looking at you now—like he wasn’t seeing the version of you everyone else did, like he was seeing you—made you realize you’d lost the second you agreed to that stupid fake relationship.

And worse?

You didn’t even care.

You finally tore your eyes away, staring down at your lap. “You’re not supposed to say things like that.”

“Why not?” he said softly. “It’s not like you’re still pretending either.”

You looked at him then—really looked. His expression was still gentle, still open, but there was something vulnerable in his eyes now, something rare. Something that almost made your chest ache.

You exhaled. “I hate you so much.”

He smiled faintly. “You’re still allowed to. Just… maybe not tonight.”

You gave a small laugh, shaking your head. “God, you’re so annoying.”

“Yeah, but you’re choosing to be here.”

That shut you up.

Because he was right.

You didn’t have to say yes to that dinner. You didn’t have to stand beside him when his mom looked at you like you were the girl who’d changed her son. You didn’t have to come here, to this overlook, to this stupid city view.

But you did.

And somewhere between all the faking and fronting… this had turned into something else.

“I don’t know what this is,” you said quietly, fingers twisting in your lap. “But if you’re not pretending anymore… I don’t want to be either.”

You didn’t look up right away—but you felt the shift. The tension softening. The energy between you changing, quietly but completely.

Heeseung didn’t say anything this time.

He just leaned in slowly, eyes flicking down to your lips, like he was asking a question without speaking.

And you didn’t stop him.

Because when his lips finally met yours, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t fireworks or chaos or something wild and dramatic.

It was soft.

Warm.

Real.

And it felt a hell of a lot better than revenge ever did.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, his forehead rested gently against yours, and for the first time since all this started, there was nothing left to fake.

Just you.

And him.

And whatever this was turning into.

Heeseung pulled back just slightly, his forehead still resting against yours, his eyes flicking down to your lips again like he hadn’t quite gotten enough.

And then, with that same cocky little grin he always wore when he was up to no good, he murmured,

“So… do you wanna make out?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Come on,” he said, voice low, teasing. “Don’t act surprised. You kissed me first.”

“You literally kissed me,” you said, half-laughing, half-scolding.

He shrugged, still wearing that stupid, infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Doesn’t change the fact you kissed me back.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks heating. “This is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” he leaned in again, barely a breath between you now. “Because I’ve been dying to do that again, and I’m thinking the front seat isn’t cutting it.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you seriously trying to seduce me in your car right now?”

Heeseung leaned closer, voice barely above a whisper. “Depends. Is it working?”

And yeah, it was. You hated how easily he got under your skin—how that smooth voice, those eyes, that look he gave you made your heart beat like you were seventeen again and still drunk off one dumb party night.

“…You’re the worst,” you muttered.

He smiled. “So that’s a yes?”

You didn’t answer him. You just reached for the door handle, opened it, and slid out without a word—walking around to the back.

Heeseung froze for a second, blinking in disbelief, before a low, amazed laugh escaped his lips. “No way.”

You turned your head, giving him the same smug look he always gave you. “Well? Are you coming or not?”

He was already moving before you finished the sentence.

And when the two of you climbed into the backseat, the space suddenly felt way too small. Too warm. Too charged.

You barely got the door closed before his hands were on your waist, pulling you in like this was something he’d been holding back for a long time.

And for the next little while, the only thing that mattered…

Was the fact that none of this felt fake anymore.

The windows had fogged up within minutes.

You were straddling Heeseung in the cramped backseat, his top bunched up around your fists, your lips tangled with his like the past three years of tension had finally snapped.

Every shove, every glare, every petty comment—this was what it all had been building to. Not the revenge. Not the fake posts. This.

His hands were on your waist, fingers pressing into the curve of your hips like he couldn’t believe you were real, like if he let go, you’d disappear. And you hated how good it felt. How good he felt.

“Still hate me?” he mumbled against your mouth, breath warm and teasing.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, both of you breathing hard, lips swollen, eyes locked.

“Undecided,” you said, but your voice was softer than it should’ve been.

He grinned, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You’re really bad at fake-dating.”

You leaned in again, this time slower, letting your lips hover just over his. “Good thing this doesn’t feel fake anymore.”

That wiped the smirk off his face. Just for a second. Then his expression shifted—eyes darker, more serious.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, like your name alone could ground him.

And it kind of did.

You looked at him, chest rising and falling, and for the first time since this whole thing started, you let your guard down completely. No sass. No comebacks. Just truth.

“I don’t know when it stopped being fake,” you whispered. “But I don’t think I can pretend anymore.”

He didn’t say anything.

He just pulled you in again—slower this time, deeper. And when he kissed you now, it wasn’t just to tease or shut you up or win a fake game.

It was a promise.

And in the backseat of a car, windows fogged and hearts exposed, that kiss changed everything.

[madamechrissy]

Girl I'm Into It

NSFW- WC- 1.4k- Request for heavy petting w/Gojo! College AU, lots of dry humping, touching, and teasing, Virgin Gojo blushing and whimpering for reasons lol <3

"Holy fuck the party's cramped." You mumble, sipping on this godawful punch in the middle of a rather insane frat party. The scent of smoke and cloyingly sweet liquor mixes with the endless amounts of men's axe body spray and cheap perfume. You look at Satoru then, shaking your head at him. "You really joining the frat, Toru?"

"Yeah, I mean why not? Suguru and Kento are."

"I know but... we play Digimon, Toru."

"Hush!" Satoru covers your mouth up quickly, looking around nervously, making you both laugh then. "You're the nerd."

"Me!?"

"You. Hey man, watch it!" Satoru shoves a dude who has bumped into you out of the way now, sighing as there are just far too many people, watching as you get nervous. "Wanna go to a room? Get away?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind?" You and Satoru had been friends forever, including now that you're in college of course, but parties weren't your thing, especially frat parties. But, you want to support Satoru in whatever he does. He leads you down the halls now, opening a room and peeking in, seeing a couple on the bed.

"Shit, sorry!" He closes the door, now opening another, grinning down at you brightly, his pretty blue eyes glittering under snowy lashes. "Got it."

"Thanks, Toru." You murmur, as he leads you in the room and shuts the door behind you both, the bed looks... questionable, so he instead sits on a big recliner, patting his long leg. You blush at the thought, hoping he can't see.

"Seat right here. The bed looks diseased." He says with a shiver of disgust, you laugh then, sitting on his thigh. You all had done this before at parties, you were good friends and it wasn't crazy but...

But Satoru's leg feels so good between your thighs.

So good you're nervous he can sense your heat, as you've both gotten older you've had more and more feelings for him. But now he's at this university, going to be in a frat, and you're over at an art school, he's right in saying you are a nerd...

"What's wrong silly?" He asks then, peeking at his phone, popping on a song, you try to relax a bit when his big hand is on your bare thigh so casually, he's leaning back to get comfortable, long legs sprawled out, pressing his thigh up even more.

"Um..." You gasp then, when your hips shift, and you feel your panties getting wet, panicking. He has on jeans thank god, maybe he doesn't notice!?

"Recharge that social battery." He teases, and you turn your head again, shifting your hips experimentally, he pauses now, lips parted, pouty pink ones you want to kiss so damn bad. "Fuck... you're..."

"Sorry, shit." You stand now, then look down in horror at the wet spot on his light blue jeans, covering your face in embarrassment. He gulps then, running a thumb over the sticky wetness, exhaling, blue eyes locked on it. "I'll leave-"

"Stop, it's normal yeah?" He laps it up on his thumb, moaning, and your pussy throbs around nothing. "Fuck it's... sweet?"

"It is?" You whisper, he nods then, looking up at you under those long snowy lashes, taking your hips carefully and spinning you towards him. "Gojo I've never..."

"Me either." You gasp at that, eyes wide, and he's blushing now, cheeks flushed pink on his perfect skin.

"How!? You're so popular, and gorgeous-"

"You think I'm gorgeous?" He asks, thin white brows drawn together, now you're between his thighs, his hands pressing into your hips, your entire body is reacting, your breaths quicker and quicker.

"Of course I do, Toru."

"Well I think you're pretty. So pretty." He says softly, and suddenly your hand is running through his silky white locks, as the other rests on a strong bicep over his long sleeved shirt.

"You do?" You manage to whisper, he nods, pulling you on his lap then, your thighs on either side, shaking as you kneel over him. "Toru what are..."

"Can we kiss? Please? Pretty please?" He bats his lashes, pouting, and you nod with a little nervous laugh. "I've done some things if you want me to show you?"

"Like kiss?" You whisper, lips pressing against his now, Satoru moans against your lips, you feel them, plush and firm against yours, his hot tongue slipping inside your mouth, you gasp then. You cling to his shoulders as your panties now brush against his lap, and you sink down, crying out at how good it feels, his hardness between your dripping folds.

"You're a good kisser." He murmurs, pulling back, pressing you down firmer now, and you're soaking your panties, ruining them completely, earning his groan. "I can feel how hot you are. She's so needy, hmm?" His tone goes husky, your lips part at it, gasping, your head falling back as you roll your hips again, grinding on his cock over his clothes.

"Satoru... need more." You whimper when he's kissing the tops of your breasts, then up your throat, licking and biting, bucking his hips up then, earning another cry of pleasure, heat pooling in your core. "Ngh!"

"Those sounds you make, fuck..." Satoru picks you up by your hips then, slipping a finger to your swollen clit over your panties. "They're soaked."

"Embarrassing... ah!" Satoru's little hum of satisfaction just makes you wetter, he's looking right at you, and you're drowning in that gaze, in the swirling blue depths of his eyes.

"Let me make you cum." He whispers, slipping past the elastic of your panties now, finding your soaking wet pussy with his fingers, you nearly fall apart at it, pausing your movements. He moans, hard cock shoving up more. "No, keep rocking on me."

"Y-you sure?" He nods eagerly, so you rock more on Satoru's cock, his finger rolling on your clit now in little circles, watching you, flushed cheeks, parted full lips. You kiss them as you cry out, grinding helplessly while he keeps rolling circles, then starts flicking back and forth. "Toru!"

"So wet, oh my god... so pretty..." He is urging you on more and more with every breath, every kiss, until you're about to fall, and he's sensing it, free hand grabbing your ass, shoving you further on his clothed cock, panties a sticky mess. You're dripping all the way down his finger as he's moaning, harder and harder between your lips. "Let go, I've got you."

"Toru I-"

"Cum." You scream out then, as if on command, shuddering as your wetness gushes all over, as you throb around nothing, making a mess of his finger, your panties, his jeans. He moans now, sucking on his finger before kissing you, grinding up more and more, gasping as you're trembling, clinging to him, wanting more and more...

suddenly the door knocks, and you both curse. "Go away." He grumbles, you giggle then, hips moving just a bit, and Satoru is now slipping down his zipper, you watch with a gulp as his cock is revealed, a sticky wet spot on his boxers as his pretty cock springs free, long and curved, making you wetter. " Can I... rub it on you?" He asks, you nod nervously, and Satoru now has slipped his pretty pink tip into your panties, rubbing on your engorged clit.

"Satoru!" You're gushing more and more, and he groans then, all flushed, clinging to your ass as he fucks your panties.

"F-fuck you're too wet, too hot I- ah- oh my god..." You feel something hot and sticky against you now, and you flush, looking down to see Satoru's cock is spurting hot white ropes of sticky cum agaisnt you. He rests his head on your chest, whimpering. "Fuck I'm sorry. Shit, shit shit..."

"Toru... it's okay." You whisper then, he is blushing as bad as you are when he tilts back, looking up, cupping your face gently. You place your hand down and lap some of it up, moaning. "You're yummy too."

"Fuck... let me..." Satoru picks you up then, taking off the panties he'd cum in, laughing a little nervously as you watch him, only for him to turn you and sit you on the seat, pushing your thighs apart. He fingers the sticky cum on your pussy lips, kneeling then.

"W-what are you doing?" You whisper, and he looks up at you with dilated eyes, kissing up your inner thigh.

"Gonna clean up my mess."

Virgin Toru is new for me aha, but he's adorableee

[angrythingstarlight]

How would Bucky react if Bee came home one day and had a bouquet of flowers that one of the PTA dads gave her for Malyshka? 👀

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumbleebee

Word Count: Drabble

A/N: Written on my phone, unbeta'd. Part of the bumblebee series.

Bucky carefully takes the flowers from Bumblebee's hands, his affable grin sliding off his face when he stands up, towering over you.

"Who gave you these?" His voice is deceptively calm, in stark dichotomy with the storm brewing in his keen blue eyes. His darkening gaze sends a shiver down your spine and it takes every ounce of your willpower to suppress your smile. This is probably not the best time to tease your mobster. Bucky knows the answer without even glancing at the card attached to the bouquet, he merely wants confirmation.

"Bucky," you stretch out his name, wrapping an arm around his neck, going on your tiptoes, you smooth the lines forming between his furrowed brows with a light touch. "I barely remember the guy. Chris something I think. It's not important."

"I remembers Mommy. Mr. Cole gave 'em to you and remembers how he—" Bee states a little too helpfully, squishing a stray lavender petal in her palm, blissfully unaware of what she started when she skipped in the house straight to Bucky to show him Cole's flowers."—he wanna touch your butts. You remembers?"

Don't laugh. Don't laugh.

"Thank you, Bumblebee." Bucky sees your lips twitch and a dark, menacing glint creeps over his bearded face. God, he's sexy when he gets like this. One day you'll figure out why that particular look makes your knees weak.

"You welcome, Papa," she sings out. Done with her part in this fiasco, she heads off to her playroom, leaving you alone with Bucky.

"Oh Cole. Right. That one. Yeah, they might be from him," you admit.

"Cole Turner. Farmer. Divorced father of two. Works upstate. Asthmatic." His gaze flicks to the flowers crumbling in his grasp. "Cheap."

Bucky knows all about the farmer, ever since the man first flirted with you. Bucky's been biding his time, content to let you handle him.

Until now.

If the way he's crushing the stems in his large tattooed hand or the way his heady gaze pins you in place wasn't enough to reveal how your mobster feels about another man giving you flowers, his accent slipping out as he lists off what he knows, says more than his words ever could.

Oh, he's furious.

And jealous.

It's not a bad look on him. You glance down and see the veins along the back of his hand, your eyes trailing up to his thick bicep barely contained by his tailored suit, and over to his face just in time to catch his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not bad at all.

Still, you can't let him hurt the asthmatic farmer even if Cole can't take a hint.

"James, whatever you're thinking, the answer is no." You clutch the sides of his jaw, making him look down at you. "I don't care about the flowers. Or what's his name. I love you." His expression doesn't change but you see his eyes soften. Pulling him down, your lips brush over his ear as you whisper. "I only want you. No one else. And if you agree to leave him alone, I'll show you how much you mean to me."

He knows that and he trusts you. He's not concerned about that. Bucky believes you're fucking irresistible and he can't blame other men for wanting you as badly as he does. Actually, he can and he will. Bucky drops the flowers and takes your face in his hands, his warm palms brush over your cheeks as he tilts your head back. "I'm going to need a lot of convincing Malyshka. It's going to take all night."

"Promise you're not going to do anything to him."

"I won't hurt him," Bucky offers with a casual shrug.

"Bucky."

"That's the best I can do. And Malyshka, you should be focused on how you're going to handle all the things I'm about to do to you." A smirk pulls at his lips and his unrelenting gaze skates over you in one smooth pass. His voice deepens, the sound vibrating over your skin as his lips find the side of your throat. "Remember what happened the last time you promised to make me feel better?"

Oh.

"I--"

"Don't worry, I'm about to remind you."

The following Monday.

You're dropping Bee off when you overhear Keaton talking to another mother. "We'll need someone to cover Cole's snacks for the rest of the year. I can't believe he up and left like that."

Your eyes widen as you subtly glance over your shoulder, listening carefully while taking Bee's little backpack off.

"What happened?"

Bucky what did you do? Without being too obvious, you take a step closer to the gossiping duo, their voices carrying over the sounds of the classroom.

"Apparently he just inherited a house in D.C. He told Kristen that it was left to him by some uncle but one of the conditions is he has to live there for ten years to keep it," she states, picking her keys off the desk. "And get this, right after he finds out about the place, I'm talking two seconds after he hangs up with the lawyer, he gets an offer to take over some vendor that's a mile or two from his new place but they wanted him to start immediately. So he...." Her voice starts to fade as she strolls down the hallway.

No, he didn't. Laughter spills out, you slap your hand over your mouth to conceal the sound and wave goodbye to Bee. You spend the entire walk back to the car teetering between amusement and astonishment.

Bucky's waiting for you, leaning against the side of the car. A gorgeous, colorful bouquet of flowers in his hand. But it's the smug grin on his face that has your attention. He doesn't have an ounce of shame in him and you both know he'll do it again.

"You're ridiculous, you know that right?" You say, taking the flowers from his hand. That cocky grin of his widens as he opens the door for you. "And insane."

"Only when it comes to you."

[starkeymeow]

rafe with siblingpack!pogue!reader . . .

he would hear you say “my brother” a lot.

you’d toss it into conversations like it meant nothing, like “my brother borrowed my charger again” or “my brother said that movie was mid.”

but it was always a different brother. rafe started noticing that.

one night, while driving back from a late-night gas station run, he finally asked, “how many siblings do you actually have?”

you shrugged like it was no big deal. “six. well, technically seven, including me.” and he almost drove off the road.

he didn’t say anything right away. he just filed it away.

six siblings. six people who share your childhood, your last name, your house. six people who have stories he doesn’t know. six chances to screw this up.

later, he joked about it. said stuff like, “you hiding me from your family?”

and you told him straight-faced, “no. i’m hiding them from you.” and he laughed, but deep down he knew you’re not totally kidding.

it wasn’t that he didn’t want to meet them. it’s just, he didn’t want to lose before he even got the chance to prove himself.

the first time he dropped you off at your house, he saw the shadows through the window.

someone was pacing the hallway. someone else was on the porch barefoot, eating cereal out of a mixing bowl. the porch light flickered. music was playing. someone was shouting from upstairs.

you leaned against his truck door, thumb tracing a chip in the paint, and said, “you don’t have to come in.”

and he knew what you mean. not just tonight. but in general.

you don’t have to see all this. you don’t have to see the unfiltered version of me. but he wanted to. it’s just, he wanted to deserve it first.

you thought about bringing him home, yeah. more than once. usually late at night, when he’s driving with one hand on the wheel and the other on the back of your neck like it's instinct. when the roads are empty and he’s looking at you like he’s still trying to figure you out.

he’ll ask little things: what your house is like, why you never bring anyone around, and you always dodge it, joke your way through.

truth is, you didn’t think he’d want to see it.

even if he asked.

but then today happens. you were supposed to run to the gas station and grab milk. you were hungry. he was already with you. cole had texted some passive-aggressive version of ‘get here before someone eats the rest of the pasta’ and the sun was already going down.

so you said, screw it.

and now, here you are.

you don't even need to knock. the door's unlocked, like always. probably wide open all day. you walk in first, and rafe follows, just a step behind, slow, cautious in the way you never really see from him. like he’s entering a space he shouldn’t be allowed in.

the house smells like cheap candles, burnt toast, and whatever jude poured down the sink last night. the tv’s on so loud the floor vibrates. somewhere in the distance, a door slams and someone yells ‘get the hell out of my room’ in a voice you can’t place yet. might be cole, might be a feral animal.

rafe pauses just past the threshold.

“this a bad idea?” he murmurs, voice quiet but right in your ear.

you glance at him, try not to wince. “kind of.”

he huffs a small laugh, but doesn’t press.

you kick your shoes off automatically, sidestepping a pair of muddy cleats that definitely weren’t there this morning. a small blur zips past your legs, barefoot, wearing a black hoodie and something strapped to his head with duct tape. he’s muttering something about ‘operational recon’ as he disappears around the corner.

“rowan’s in mission mode again,” you mutter.

“jesus,” rafe says under his breath, eyebrows raised. “how many are here again?”

you just wave him in further. the living room is barely holding itself together. a pile of laundry sits half-folded on the armchair, and someone’s hoodie is draped over the ceiling fan cord like a noose. jude is sprawled on the floor like a corpse, watching the tv upside down, arms flung wide, one sock on. next to him, kit’s curled into the couch, hoodie zipped all the way up, knees tucked under her chin.

neither of them looks up.

you clear your throat as you step over an open bag of chips someone clearly gave up on.

“kit. jude. maybe try pretending we have manners.”

kit looks up first. her eyes land on rafe and immediately narrow like she’s scanning him for weak points. she’s got that look she always gets when you bring someone new around. mostly bored, mildly suspicious, like this is all taking time away from her personal agenda of doing nothing.

“you brought someone?” she says, raising a brow. “thought you were still in your antisocial era.”

“she is,” jude mutters, not taking his eyes off the screen. “she just wants someone to suffer with her.”

“true love,” kit says flatly. “so romantic.”

rafe glances between the two of them, then back at you. you catch the faint twitch of a smirk, but he doesn’t say anything yet.

“kit, jude,” you start, tilting your head toward him, “this is rafe.”

“cameron?” jude pipes up, finally looking over. “like . . . that cameron?”

“no,” you say. “a different one with the same face, voice, and trust fund.”

rafe gives him a polite nod. “hey.”

kit stares for another beat before her mouth lifts slightly. “ballsy move, bringing tannyhill into this dump.”

“it’s not that bad,” you argue, but even as you say it, a dog barks in the distance and something clatters in the kitchen.

jude shrugs. “i give him ten minutes before he bails.”

“you want a timer?” rafe asks, tone dry.

“ohhh,” jude grins. “he’s got jokes.”

before you can even roll your eyes, another crash comes from the kitchen, followed by the unmistakable voice of cole yelling “i said don’t fucking touch that!” and nadia snapping something right back, sharper, quieter, way more terrifying.

you walk toward the noise and gesture for rafe to follow. he does, weaving past the wreckage of backpacks and tangled shoes by the hall.

in the kitchen, cole’s leaned against the counter in a faded white tee, sipping a beer like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the ground. nadia’s across from him, arms crossed tight, face set like stone. there’s a pot boiling on the stove and something singed on the burner beside it.

cole eyes rafe as soon as you walk in. no hello. no smile. just a squint.

“we picking up strays now?”

“do not,” you warn, pointing a finger. “do not start.”

rafe just lifts a hand. “not a stray. came voluntarily.”

“worse,” cole mutters. “means you’re either stupid or into her.”

“definitely stupid,” nadia adds, dryly, without turning around.

you rub a hand over your face. “rafe, meet cole and nadia. the kitchen trolls.”

“i’m not a troll,” cole says. “i’m the cook.”

nadia turns to rafe with a sigh and a faint smile. “sorry in advance. he’s only here because he ran out of beer at his place.”

“false,” cole says, gesturing with the bottle. “i brought this.”

“that’s expired,” she fires back.

“so’s my patience.”

“anyway,” you cut in before they start again. “we’re just here for a second.”

“sure,” nadia says, though her eyes flick back to rafe. not judgmental. just reading him.

then rowan reappears, making a dramatic dive-roll across the linoleum, blanket cape flapping. he skids into the cabinets, hops up, and shouts, “agent deployed!” before vanishing again.

rafe blinks.

“what the hell?”

“that’s rowan,” you sigh. “he thinks he’s in a war movie.”

“he’s eight,” cole adds helpfully. “don’t feed him. don’t look him in the eye. he’s fine.”

you glance at rafe again, just to check. he doesn’t look freaked out. he looks . . . kind of amused, actually. like he’s genuinely curious about how this turned into your life.

you lean a little closer.

“still wanna be here?”

he shrugs, small smile playing at his lips.

“figured it’d be worse.”

“worse?” you echo.

“yeah,” he says. “like, knives flying. yelling. exorcisms. this is just . . . messy.”

you snort. “give it time.”

but when you look back at him, standing in the middle of the chaos, arms relaxed, not checking the door, you think maybe he can handle it after all. maybe he already is.

a/n: me when i rewatch shameless LOL but yea this wont be a series but maybe ill write headcanons or blurbs here n there with rafe & reader who just has a bunch of siblings in the cut. also yes ik i said 6 siblings and only introduced 5, the 6th is away from home rn !! we’ll get to her another time idk, lmk if u want a brief rundown on ur new fictional siblings maybe

@nicholaschavezslut69 @iissza @snowtargaryen @yootvi @ariiwritess @spideysimpossiblegirl @skyslowalking @adribarbie @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @0-tatiana-0 @beebeerockknot @rafestar @adribarbie @drewstarkeyzwhore @drewsephrry @annaconscience @writtenbyhollywood @yourtypicalteenagegirl @daisydark @v4mpscrms

[pinkponytrash]

feelings for you | choi soobin

summary: after catching his roommate and his girlfriend making out, Choi Soobin’s life has been in an awkward standstill where he can’t decide if he should still be upset or move on. never one for confrontation, he still works with his ex girlfriend whose suddenly interested in him again all because he’s shown interest in another girl—his new roommate.

➣genre/au: roommate!soobin x roommate!y/n [she/her. female anatomy]

➣19.3k words

warnings: smut. kinda fluff. soobin is a barista. college grads. oc is soobin’s new roommate. one instant of fake dating. soobin is a whiny drunk. soobin’s cheating ex tries to get him back. soobin and oc friends. cute soobin but he’s a switch. dom soobin in the bedroom. soobin doesn’t like confrontation until the end. oral sèx [f receiving, in the kitchen 🤭] protected sèx. missionary. riding. soobin is subby post-sex. he has an unexplored boob kink. big soobin. jealous soobin but only slightly

When it comes to drama, you want no part of it. You keep your circle small and try not to involve yourself with things that don’t concern you but it’s been hard now that you’ve moved in with your new roommate. Originally, you thought it would be less drama to have a guy you didn’t know as a roommate, aside from the obvious worries Soobin had seemed perfect.

He was quiet and a bit shy but he seemed to have good intentions. You’ve heard him through the thin walls and he laughs when he watches something funny or talks on the phone but he’s not obnoxiously loud. He cleans up after himself and gives you your space so this first week has been good.

You’ve recently started rooming together when you answered his ad in search of a roommate and you’re starting to understand why he was looking for one in the first place.

“So she just dumped you?” You asked, unable to help yourself from being nosy. This is the first time since your first meeting that you’re sharing a conversation with him and it’s about his past relationship—evidently to thank for giving you a room for cheap.

“Basically,” Soobin said with a shrug as he stared at the television where his Nintendo Switch was connected. He was currently playing some Jujutsu Kaisen game that managed to grab your attention when you had come out of your cave for a bowl of cereal.

“That’s crazy,” you mumbled to yourself, turning away from him to wash your dishes in the sink.

Apparently, his last roommate moved out very suddenly considering he slept with Soobin’s girlfriend and things just didn’t work out.

“It’s whatever,” Soobin said, so hyper focused on his game, and saying whatever was on his mind with no attention at all, “Just sucks because I still have to work with her.”

“Wait!” You dropped what you were doing, rushing over to where he was and standing in front of the tv, “So you’re saying you still have to see your cheating ex girlfriend who slept with your roommate at work?”

“Yeah,” Soobin said, making you shake your head in disbelief. Still thinking about his sheer bad luck, you finally left him to his game and retreated to your bedroom to wallow in self pity like usual.

It was all too much to talk about for Soobin. His relationship only lasted about six months but he still can’t believe she slept with his roommate. He thought they all had become good friends but to find out she’s secretly going to his roommate’s bedroom while he’s at work. She would come over and stay while he would leave to work and while he thought she was waiting for him to get home, she’s letting his roommate stick it to her! The audacity, honestly, to do that in his home is ridiculous but thankfully his name was the one on the lease and he got to kick the guy out.

At first it was strange to have a girl move in with him considering he’s only ever roomed with guys and he was supposed to be in his ‘I Hate Woman’ era but you’ve turned out to be better than he expected. Of course it’s only been a few days but you both seem to be hyper aware of the fact that this is something new for the both of you. At least he won’t have to worry about you sleeping with his next girlfriend… or does he?

For another hour or so, Soobin played his game, completely engrossed that not even the pounding on the door for two solid minutes broke him from his trance. It wasn’t until you stormed out of your bedroom once again and headed right to the front door did he realize the person at the door was here for him.

You looked at the guy in front of you, a bit stunned to speak at how attractive he was and for a moment the two of you just stood there looking stupefied. The guy took a step back into the hallway and read the number on the wall which was sure enough his best friend’s apartment.

“What are you doing here?” Soobin asked, suddenly appearing behind you with a hand on the door above your head. Once you acknowledged that this stranger was here for your roommate you quietly made your leave, unaware of the new pair of eyes trailing after you.

“There you go, I didn’t know you had it in you to bounce back so fast,” Yeonjun said, looking to your closed door, “And with a baddie at that!”

“What are you talking about? She’s my new roommate,” Soobin said letting his best friend follow him to his bedroom so the two of them wouldn’t be in the living room and possibly make you uncomfortable. “And what are you doing here?”

“I came to cheer you up, I know its been a rough two weeks and I didn’t want you to think I left you at your lowest,” Yeonjun said, flopping himself down on the beanbag in the corner of Soobin’s room. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a couple bottles of Soju. Soobin released a sigh as he checked the time and read how late it was, “First of all it’s a weekday, second I’m not at my lowest.”

“Right… that’s the Denial stage of grief, don’t worry friend, you don’t have to lie to me, I know you,” Yeonjun said as he got up once again and went to the door, “Remember when you lost Odi? You cried for three weeks straight—“

“That is different! Odi was the real love of my life so don’t compare this to the heartbreak I felt for my beloved child!” Soobin yelled but Yeonjun just brushed him off to leave the kitchen and find glasses—and also hopefully run into you again.

Once he was back in the room, Soobin was sniffing Odi’s old blanket for comfort.

“So are you saying your roommate is up for grabs because she really is hot,” Yeonjun asked, beginning to pour two shot glasses with peach flavored Soju. Soobin shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know and considering what happened with my last roommate, I’m not really into inner circle mixing with my friends and roommate.”

“Fair enough.”

Fresh out of school, you’ve been lucky enough to find a small job at the lowest ranking possible while still being in the world of fashion. There certainly are better things you could be doing besides running errands for your boss but as a new college grad with no experience, its not like you could expect more in the fashion world. It honestly wasn’t too bad and your boss wasn’t one of those horrendous bosses that paged their employee at all hours of the day and the pay was good enough to keep a roof over your head so there wasn’t much to complain about.

You surprisingly do have quite a bit of freedom and don’t always feel tied to your work so you’re thankful that you have time to visit your friends. Now that none of you are in school its become harder to fit time to see each other in your schedules but today you got lucky to finish a shoot early and you were able to get off sooner than usual.

Seeing Soobin’s friend the other night worked as a reminder to tell you you’re not a loser and actually have friends to visit too and that’s how you found yourself sitting next to your friend while he played Overwatch at a public game room.

Your computer screen had gone back to sleep mode after you got tired of making random SIMs characters and resorted to spinning in the rolling chair next to him. It was alright for a while but when it had been almost a full hour of this, you couldn’t take it anymore, “When you asked to hang out, I thought we would actually be doing something fun.”

“This is fun, what are you talking about?” Beomgyu asked, eyes locked on the screen making you roll your eyes. You’ve been friends since your freshman year of college so his need to pay more attention to his games than you isn’t a surprise but it is annoying—even though your roommate was kind of the same.

When you didn’t say anything, Beomgyu tried harder, “So hows the new living situation?”

“It’s alright, he seems cool and it’s cheap,” You told him, still spinning absentmindedly.

Beomgyu nodded, “Is he a weirdo? Like do I have to worry about you popping up on a missing persons ad?”

“I hope not, but let me share my location with you just in case,” you joked making him chuckle, “But honestly, he seems like a good guy. It was kind of weird at first since it all seemed rushed so i was obviously worried but he explained why and its all good now”

“Spill the tea, why was he in a hurry to find a roommate?” Beomgyu asked, visibly more interested in your story than before, but still gaming.

“His girlfriend slept with his roommate when he was at work,” You said making Beomgyu gasp dramatically.

“Whoa, what a bitch,” he said, “I would’ve fought my roommate.”

“And you would’ve lost too,” you said to him making him kick your chair causing it to roll back a bit. Your laughter began to slowly die down when you felt the vibrations of your ringing cellphone. You checked the caller, surprised to see the man in question’s name on your screen.

“Hello?”

“Have I ever told you you’re the best roommate I’ve ever had?” Immediately you were taken back by the brightness in his voice. He was obviously being dramatic and you could practically hear the favor he’s going to ask.

“Well it’s not like I have a lot of competition, right?” You asked, hearing the line go silent for a moment making you wonder if you shouldn’t have said that.

Soobin rolled his eyes but wasn’t mad, “Right… So can you do me a favor? I have to meet up with some friends right after work but my phone is about to die and I don’t have a charger. Is there any way you can bring one to my work?”

You thought about it for a moment, “Nobody has one you can borrow?”

“Yes, but there’s no way I’m asking her for it,” he said with an annoyed sigh. He’s already asked everyone and they’ve all pointed him to his ex girlfriend, “Please?”

You looked back at Beomgyu who started playing his game again, forgetting you were even beside him and with a shrug Soobin couldn’t see, you said, “I guess, I’ll be there in a bit.”

Soobin’s attempt to thank you was cut short when you hung up abruptly but he was too relieved to care and tucked his phone back into his pocket.

“Want me to ask Jia if you could borrow it?” His coworker asked when Soobin got back to the counter. He shook his head, “I’ve got someone bringing one.”

He couldn’t believe he forgot his charger and didn’t realize it until he was halfway through his shift with only 15% battery. When he went to the break room in search of his charger, he nearly lost his shit when he couldn’t find it.

At first he hoped his work bestie, Taehyun, would have one but he didn’t and the only other person to ask was his ex. Obviously he wasn’t going to ask her and although he could try and run home after his shift, unless he were to find an outlet at the place he was going with his friends, his phone would be dead anyway.

Soobin’s last resort was to see if there was any way you could just bring it to him. He left it on the entrance table and must have forgot it when he was putting his shoes on and ran out. He was pleasantly surprised that you said yes and it was such a huge relief that he wouldn’t have to ask Jia.

When you walked into the coffee shop you were immediately surrounded by warmth and the smell of espresso beans. It was the first time you ever stepped foot into this cafè but it was calm and aesthetically pleasing, somewhere you can talk with friends or do some work. You followed the scent to the front register where a girl with blonde highlights stood with a polite smile on her face.

With wandering eyes toward the menu above her head, you asked, “Is Soobin here?”

You didn’t notice how that smile fell as she looked at you a little closer and before she could even respond, your roommate came out from behind some door holding a bag of hot to-go cups.

Once Soobin saw you, his heart unintentionally leapt in relief and he quickly set the bag down to go to you. A shy smile spread across his lips, very happy you actually came, “You brought it?”

“Yes,” you said, moving to the side of the counter and closer to where he was, beginning to look through your bag for it. Soobin had his hands on the counter waiting patiently as you two stood a few feet away from where his ex was. “But it wasn’t by the door, you left it on the bed.”

You felt a little awkward to go to his room but he left the door open and you could see it on the bed. Now, you could’ve easily just leant him yours so you wouldn’t invade his privacy but you weren’t going to risk him forgetting it.

“I did?” Soobin asked with a somewhat cute tilt of his head, “Oops, I swear I left it by the door, thanks though.”

When you handed it to him, your hands accidentally touched but neither one of you thought much about it, unaware of the people behind the counter watching the interaction.

“Do you want a drink?” Soobin asked, the least he could do is give you a free drink in thanks plus when he came out he saw you eyeing the menu.

“Sure,” you looked at the menu once again before just saying, “Surprise me.”

Soobin nodded with a smile as he got to making it while you looked down at the pastries in the dessert case.

By the time he was done and gave you the drink, you were ready to leave but before you could, he said, “I won’t be home till late.”

He just meant to give you a heads up that way you knew you had the apartment to yourself and didn’t think about how it would sound to the others.

You left with a goodbye and thanks for the drink and he was left behind to deal with his ex for another three hours.

“So who was that?” Taehyun asked, suddenly popping up beside him, catching him off guard and making him scream. Soobin clutched his chest in an attempt to calm his racing heart as he looked at his friend with a dumb expression, “Who?”

Taehyun couldn’t even pretend to be amused and asked again, “The person who you were talking to like ten seconds ago.”

“Oh! That’s Y/n, she’s my new roommate,” Soobin said casually with a shrug of his shoulders.

“That’s it? I thought you had moved on already, I was impressed,” Taehyun said with a chuckle as Soobin rinsed out the froth pitcher, “I think Jia got a little worried there for a second.”

Soobin stopped as he tried to process what his friend was saying, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not gonna lie it kind of looked like the two of you had something going on at first and Jia asked me if I knew her,” Taehyun told him confidently. Jia left on her break without telling either one of them but now they’re comfortably talking without her around.

“It shouldn’t matter to her anyway,” Soobin muttered under his breath as he moved past Taehyun to help the customer in line. Why does it matter to Jia who he talks to and why does she feel the need to ask Taehyun what he knows? She cheated on him. She betrayed his trust so heavily that he doubts she ever truly cared about him so why is she acting interested or concerned?

Does it bother her to see him talking to someone despite everything she’s done?

It was a couple days later when he realized your short visit to his work which should have been in the past, wasn’t.

Like the other night, he was stuck working with Jia and he had been counting every minute that passed until the end of his shift since it started. For hours they worked and talked around each other but never intercepted even when he could feel her eyes on him.

When they closed the cafè and Soobin was ready to run home and escape her presence, she decided to speak up, “Soobin?”

For a second he debated ignoring her so he could walk straight to the bus stop and not worry about seeing her for the rest of the night. It was hard to always act unaffected as if she didn’t completely disintegrate his entire confidence and practically shove new insecurities, he never wanted to show, down his throat.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to her wordlessly, waiting to see what she had to say.

“I…” she bit her lip trying to figure out how to word her thoughts, “I… um, I just wanted to know how you were doing.”

He resisted the urge to scoff as he answered questioning, “I’m good?”

For the past few weeks he’s worked hard to act like he didn't catch Jia and his roommate kissing on his couch so why was she wanting to know now of all times?

As much as he wanted to go home, part of him wanted to see what was up. Jia met his eyes, still taken back to see his harsh gaze which was a huge contrast than the gentle stare she had grown used to in the last six months.

“That’s good,” Jia cleared her throat awkwardly, “Are you, b-by chance seeing anyone?”

The obvious look of disbelief on Soobin’s face had her rushing to explain, “I mean… the person who came to visit you the other night. Is she, yknow, are you seeing her?”

“You mean Y/n?” Soobin asked with a tilt of his head. Why was she asking about you?

Jia stood there silently trying to figure out what to say next. What was her point? What was she trying to find out by asking him that? Had she expected him to still be mourning their relationship? Does she have a right to feel worried that he’s moved on so quickly after what she did?

Before she could even try to word a shitty excuse for why she asked in the first place, Soobin had already stopped paying attention to her when he got a text.

you: ordered too much pizza

you: I’ll die if I eat more

you: pls take some

For some reason your sequence of texts brought a slight smile on his face. He put a thumbs up on the message and looked at Jia, “Night.”

He left her standing there alone as he ran home to his roommate who was slowly beginning to like more and more. He doesn’t even mean it romantically because clearly now’s not the best time for him but he likes you as a roommate and possible friend? You’ve slowly begun to help each other out and you don’t completely avoid shared spaces so you’ve been interacting a little more. He wouldn’t call you a friend just yet but you’re an easy person to live with and he doesn’t have that many people around him so it’s nice talking to you either way.

The two of you text here and there but never about anything important, usually you ask how to fix the hot water and he sends you anime reels he thinks you might enjoy. If he’s up for it, he’ll ask if you want any pastries he’s supposed to throw out.

It’s a very simple arrangement and he much preferred being with you than suffering another second with Jia where he risked asking her every question he had on why he wasn’t good enough.

It’s a very simple arrangement and he much preferred being with you than suffering another second with Jia where he risked asking her every question he had on why he wasn’t good enough.

By the time Soobin got home, you had moved from the dining room to the couch where you engrossed yourself into some animated movie laying on your side. You barely raised your head to acknowledge him but he smiled anyway as he headed to the kitchen, “Thanks for sharing.”

“No problem, I overestimated how much I could eat in one setting,” You mumbled in a tired, raspy tone, “How was work?”

Soobin didn’t bother heating up his slice, or even get a plate, and he took a big bite out of the cold pizza, walked out the kitchen to talk, “It was alright, kinda slow aside from some teens who wouldn’t stop giggling at me.”

“Question, was that girl from the other night your ex or someone else?” You asked sitting up a bit when you noticed he was trying to sit down.

“Yeah that’s her, Jin, she also asked about you tonight,” Soobin said seeing it as a joke, “Taehyun said she seemed jealous when I was talking to you.”

Your brows furrowed with confusion, “Did you tell her I was your roommate?”

He shook his head, taking a moment to chew before saying, “No, I didn’t see why it mattered.”

“True, that’s so weird,” You released a sigh, resting your elbow on the arm rest and leaning your head on your hand, “Wow, no offense but your ex girlfriend is a bitch.”

He couldn’t hide the look of surprise on his face as you said that but he couldn’t disagree—he just would’ve used kinder words. It was kind of funny though and for some reason hearing you say that made him feel better. His other friends who know about it don’t really ask and they don’t explicitly tell him to his face how they felt about his former girlfriend. It just feels nice to have someone listen and be on his side, it made him want to open up more.

“Sorry, I really don’t want to seem mean, I just think its kind of bullshit for her to act jealous because you’re talking to someone. Like, why does she care who I am or how you know me when she cheated on you,” You said, unable to help yourself from speaking your mind, “Even if I was someone you’re talking to, why is she concerned about it? Did she expect you to just always be hung on her despite what she did?”

Soobin had to think about that for a second. That’s the same thing he had originally thought too but he tried to ignore it because it seemed wrong. He thought that maybe he was reading into it too much and Jia wasn’t actually jealous but now that you’re saying it too, he can’t help but wonder. She also talked to him tonight and even at work when they didn’t speak, she was looking at him constantly. She even tried helping him once but he just blew her off to do it on his own. It’s like tonight she was trying to remind him she was still around and that confused him.

“Do you think that’s true though?” He asked. You shrugged trying not to seem too invested but it was too late. Soobin is a good guy and now that you’ve met the girl, you just can’t wrap your mind around what she did. Cheating is already a huge betrayal but to do it with someone Soobin knew and lived with? To do it in the apartment, Soobin paid for? That’s the lowest of the low.

“I honestly do.”

What you said stayed on his mind for days. It didn’t help that Jia was trying to talk to him at work and last night she looked at his instagram story despite the fact they unfollowed each other. He just doesn’t get it. What did she want with him now?

When he came into work today, there was his favorite drink in his locker that he knew was from Jia because Taehyun had told her. Thankfully he wasn’t working with her now but Taehyun had filled him in. Apparently, she came in with drinks and he saw her putting it in Soobin’s locker.

“I don’t get her,” Soobin said with a huff of frustration, “Why does she keep doing these things?”

“Honestly, she probably regrets fucking up and wants to get on your good side again,” Taehyun said as he made a hot matcha latte for a customer that Soobin was ringing up.

“But why?”

“What if she wants to get you back?” Taehyun asked as he finished the drink and handed it to the customer. He turned back to Soobin, realization hitting him like a truck and he gasped, “Oh my god. She probably thinks you’ve moved on already and wants to get you back! That’s really bold of her to think you’d fall for it, right?”

“Right. You don’t think she is though, right? Why would she cheat on me just to try and get back with me?” Soobin asked and his voice was laced with confusion.

“Because she probably thinks it’s going to work and you’ll fall for it. God I knew based off her MBTI that she was going to try something, I could see the determination in her eyes when she saw Y/n.”

Soobin couldn’t help but scoff with a laugh. Why were you the reason Jia suddenly wanted to notice him again? You and Soobin were nothing but roommates, the only time you ever talk is during your daily debriefings when you’re getting midnight snacks. You don’t text and you don’t do anything together so it’s comical that you apparently worried his ex girlfriend enough based off one interaction to try and get him back—he wouldn’t do it, he should add.

“Wait! You know what you should do?” Taehyun dropped a itcher into the sink haphazardly as the idea came to mind, “Imagine if you started dating Y/n and made it known to Jia that you’ve moved on. She’s only putting in effort again because she probably thinks she can get you back. You gotta make her think you’re over her.”

“First of all, I am over her and second, Y/n and I don’t like each other like that,” Soobin said, making Taehyun roll his eyes.

“I don’t mean like actually date, I mean… make Jia think you are that way she can back off and won’t think she has a chance,” Taehyun said.

Soobin froze, looking at his friend in disbelief. Taehyun said it so casually like what he said wasn’t a big deal at all and Soobin just couldn’t believe it. He was completely lost by the whole and after an awkward silence between the two he just shook his head feeling a blush rise in his cheeks as he said, “That is a really bad idea.”

It was an awful idea and too much work. Soobin didn’t need to prove anything to anyone and why would he make Jia believe he was over her when he knew he was? She could try and talk to him all she wants but it won’t make a difference to him, honestly. It is kind of annoying that neither Taehyun or Yeonjun believed he was over Jia and now it seems like Jia doesn’t think so too? Why else would she be making this much effort to talk to him again?

Taehyun’s words were stuck in his head now and it made no sense. Why would he drag you into his problems and why would you want to do it? You probably have things going on in your own life that there's no reason to bother you with his. Sure, you’ve been fun to talk to since you’re not his usual circle of friends but that’s it. You don’t know each other well enough to do that.

“Hey,” when he got home that night, he could tell by the tone of your voice that something was off. You were in the kitchen washing some dishes when he walked in.

“Hey,” Soobin greeted as he began taking his shoes off at the door, “How was your day?”

“It was alright. I almost cried in the bathroom because my boss yelled at me for getting her the wrong milk in her coffee,” you said with a shrug, “And yours?”

“Oh,” Soobin said, blinking slowly trying to figure out if he should ask if you were okay or just say his part. “Um, it was nice, I worked with my friend but he said the craziest thing I had ever heard and it threw me off.”

You dried your hands off with the towel and walked past him, heading to your room but still holding conversation, “What’d he say?”

“He said that I should pretend to date you,” the words completely slipped from his and the second they were said, he felt his body tense up and his face go blank. You stopped at your door, turning to look at his confused state when he suddenly rushed to say, “I mean… She’s been trying to talk lately and I don’t know what she’s doing but it’s like she thinks we can get back together.”

He bit his lip and he just couldn’t stop talking, “So, Taehyun said I needed to make her think I was over her and that I should get your help but I thought it was an awful idea. Like, I don’t need to prove anything to her if anyone else and there’s no way you would ever do something lik—I would never ask you too and I know I should stop talking about it but you asked and for some reason I always just tell you what’s going and I can’t stop, oh my god.”

He covered his face with his hands, unable to see the way a smile played on your lips at his rambling. With a deep sigh you opened your bedroom door, “Goodnight.”

He waved goodbye, still refusing to look at you and stormed to his room in embarrassment. You got in yours and laid in bed where you got on your phone and immediately told your friends.

you: I think my roommate is weird

beomgyu: why

you: idk, just strange

kai: aww, ur twinning w/him (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)

you: … ( •᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ )

beomgyu: (⸝⸝⸝◉⸝ ｡ ⸝◉⸝⸝⸝)

you: anyway, he was talking about fake dating like this is a wattpad story

kai: do it, his ex is a bitch

Lately, it’s been getting hard for Soobin to look forward to the café. It’s such a huge contrast to the work he does at his internship that going to the cafe sometimes feels relaxing and not like work at all but these past few weeks have been dreadful. It’s very hard to ignore someone who hurt you when you have to work with her. It’s a constant reminder and everyone seems to always point it out. Taehyung was right, she was trying to do something with him again and it’s becoming even more noticeable everytime he goes to work.

“Are you going to Yuna’s party this weekend?” Jia asked him. The shop had been slow so he busied himself with closing duties, hoping he could get done sooner and meet his friend.

“Probably,” Soobin answered absently.

“Oh, maybe I’ll see you there,” Jia said with a nervous laugh, “I gotta be honest, Soobin it’s strange being so distant.”

Soobin scoffed, looking at her in disbelief. What was wrong with her and why did she act like there isn’t a cause for this distance.

Just as he was debating telling her how he felt, the bell above the door chimed and they both got ready to greet them with a customer service smile. His soon turned into a real smile despite his confusion at the surprise, “What are you doing here?”

“I want coffee?” Your tone was questioning but light as you got to the counter, trying not to look at the girl again.

It’s been a bit awkward since Soobin made that weird comment the other night but you’re tired of acting bothered by it. It was harmless and your friends thought it was funny [ and a good idea? ] but you just thought it was bizarre. You think it’s strange and although you wanted to avoid Soobin it’s very hard when you get to know him. He’s kind of cute actually—not looks wise but personality wise.

“Nice,” Soobin said with a nod of his head although he made no move to ring you up or make you a drink. You looked from him down to the register, “Can I order yet?”

“Oh, yes,” he cleared his throat awkwardly and waited for you to say something. Once he rang up your drink, he gave a discount and left to make it while you paid.

Honestly, he thought you were mad at him for what he said. He still has no idea why he brought up what Taehyun said but the way you ignored him let him know it was a mistake at the time. He’s been worried for days that he crossed the line but now you’re here talking to him like everything is normal. It makes him feel better.

You could feel Jia’s eyes on you and this time around it bothered you. Why was she glaring at you like you were the problem? You don’t even know her and it’s very obvious there’s nothing between you and Soobin. Why would it matter to her if there was or wasn’t?

“Are you off already?” Soobin asked handing you your drink over the counter.

You nodded, “Kind of? I still have some stuff to finish up but the WiFi at home is lagging.”

“Just work here then,” Soobin said motioning toward the tables, “Connect to the internet and keep me company.”

“How? You’re working,” you pointed out.

“Nobody’s here,” Soobin said, completely dismissing Jia, “Please?”

Now that he knows you’re not bothered by him it’s been like a confidence boost to try and befriend you again. He just needed the assurance that you weren’t going to ditch him and move out so for you to come and talk to him felt good. He was worried he scared you off.

With a dramatic sigh, you pretended to give in, “Oh, I guess I could do that. I’ll just stay a bit.”

“Or you could stay till I’m off and we can go home together,” Soobin said but the sound of the espresso machine grumbling stole your attention instead. Jia was cleaning it already and had no problem cutting your conversation short with the loudness of it.

She was clearly annoyed with you being here and you just couldn’t understand it. Why was she so mad when she’s the one who ruined her relationship with Soobin? Soobin deserved so much better and it annoys you that she’s the one upset now.

“Maybe, who knows if I want to wait that long,” you said playfully, watching him leave the counter to talk to you. You were the only one in the shop and he didn’t care either way, you’re his saving grace from spending this last hour with Jia trying to talk to him.

“Please? I’ll buy you food on the way,” he said, feeling your eyes on him.

He wore a cream colored crew neck and light washed baggy jeans, a brown apron tied at his waist and even his glasses tonight. You don’t see him in his glasses often so it was a nice surprise, “Alright, you got me. I’ll stay.”

What really made you decide on staying wasn’t his begging or his offer to buy you food but it was actually knowing he probably wanted to avoid any more alone time with his ex. You already pitied the guy’s circumstances and you couldn’t just leave him to suffer while he begged for your help.

So you stayed, you had to remind Soobin every now and then to get back to work when he would lose track of time telling you whatever was on his mind and forget a customer was around. Jia did not acknowledge you at all, not until the very end when she came up to you and with a snarky tone said, “Heads up, we close in ten minutes.”

“Okay,” you flashed her a polite but strained smile, “I’m just waiting for Soobin.”

“I know, but you’ll have to leave when we’re closing,” she said bluntly.

“Really? Thanks for the heads up,” you put your headphones back on and turned your attention to your laptop, making it known you weren’t going to talk to her anymore and with a slight roll of her eyes, she left.

After a minute or so, you closed your laptop and put your things away. You got up from the table as Soobin was coming out with things he was planning on restocking and when he saw you get up, he practically dropped it all to go to you, “What are you doing?”

“I’m just going to wait outside,” you said with a shrug, slinging your backpack over your shoulders.

“Bu—“

“Soobin, can you start cleaning out the espresso machines?” Jia asked with an annoyed tone and with a huff in irritation, he watched you make your leave till he was alone once again.

He didn’t bother talking to her as he finished up his chores and the cafè was filled with an uncomfortable silence the remainder of the time. He’s been cleaning all evening but Jia wants to remind him about the espresso machines just because she sees him talking to you. It’s crazy and Soobin doesn’t know how to speak up.

He has so much he wants to say but then he gets worried he’s being rude or overthinking things that he ends up just staying silent anyway. That’s probably why his relationship with Jia was so rocky from the beginning—and also why he didn't argue when he caught her. He just doesn’t want to be in uncomfortable situations.

You had honestly debated just going home despite Soobin wanting you to stay. It was freezing cold out and you only had a thin sweater that did nothing to keep you warm. You had every right to just go home but he asked you so nicely and Jia was kind of rude when she tried kicking you out and it makes your pettiness want to show through.

When Soobin and Jia finally finished closing, she waited around while she locked the door looking like she had something to say but he wouldn’t even turn to look at her. Instead, he looked around for you, worried you had left already but he found you sitting on the curb, surprising him in the process. Jia didn’t seem to see you there either and it was hard for her to hide the look of displeasure when you got up.

“So what are you feeding me?” You asked, hugging your arms around yourself to fight off the cold wind from the winter air. Soobin didn’t hesitate to take off his jacket, leaving him only in a crewneck and pulling it around you.

“Something warm?” He asked, looking at the tip of your nose which was a deep shade of red. The two of you left without so much as a goodbye and when you were out of earshot he added, “Also, thanks for waiting. I thought you would’ve left and now I feel bad that you had to wait outside. I would’ve said something but you were already leaving and I assumed you got mad and went home.”

“I was going to,” you said honestly as he held the door open to some Korean hotpot tent restaurant, “But I decided against it. Also, I’ve got something to say.”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, sitting down at a table across from you.

“I can tell you struggle a little bit speaking your mind and she talks to you like she still has a say over what you do,” you said to him, “And she was kind of rude? Like, she didn’t say anything mean to me but it’s obvious she doesn’t like me for talking to you and I don’t think that’s fair. So, is there any way we can make her know you don’t want her without you having to tell her harshly?”

It took him a moment to process everything you had said in such a short time and he wondered if you had said anything at all. Maybe he imagined you saying that because it’s been in his mind lately and he couldn’t see what you would gain anything from it so why would you help him?

He should just tell you it’s not something you have to do. If you were to go along with a charade just so that it looks like he’s moved on from his ex. He knows he has, he just can’t be mean. All he can do is ignore her but that doesn’t seem to be stopping Jia from approaching him. No, it still doesn’t mean he has to drag you into something useless.

“Well, there’s a party this weekend that I know she’ll be at.”

Pulling it off was harder than you had originally thought and there’s very specific reasons for this.

One, appearing as anything aside from friends or roommates was hard considering you were still at an awkward stage of friendship. You knew Soobin and how he looked in the mornings but you’ve no clue what his favorite movie is or favorite color or even his zodiac sign. You knew his ex girlfriend was a cheating bitch but you don’t know what his internship is or what his major was in college so when someone at the party asked you things about Soobin… you had no idea what to say.

Two, you’re not sure if the chemistry is there. So far, you don’t think you’re pulling it off. Sure, Soobin has remained at your side since the two of you got here but you think you both look stiff and nervous. Even when someone expects him to introduce you, it feels weird and you’re not sure how close you’re supposed to seem.

“You two suck,” Taehyun said [the first time he had ever spoken to you too], “Put some flavor into this. Hold hands, act cute, give me emotion because I can tell you right now, Jia won’t think she’s got competition.

Soobin rolled his eyes, “Shh, this is harder than we thought it would be— a-nd it’s not about competition.”

“Really? Because Yuna asked me who you brought because Jia was asking her, something about you not wanting to talk to her?” Taehyun said with a chuckle, “It’s like she’s completely forgotten what happened.”

You hadn’t spoken up once this entire time but Soobin was beginning to look visibly uncomfortable talking about his ex in a crowded place. Usually he’s open when you’re at home and you’re the only one listening to him but right now he keeps glancing around anxiously.

“Should we get a drink?” You asked him suddenly, watching him nod his head eagerly in an attempt to leave his friend who said too many things he didn’t want to hear right now.

“Sorry for him, he just says things sometimes and—“

“It’s alright,” you laughed softly, making your way to the kitchen where the countertop was filled with various bottles. Soobin was right behind you, not wanting to lose you in the crowd.

He doesn’t understand you. You’re so nice to him and he doesn’t know what to make of it. You don’t question him or make him talk when he doesn’t want to. You seem to have some understanding of what he wants and he doesn’t even have to tell you anything.

He knows you’re just helping him out so he doesn’t look like a sore loser at a party he knows his ex-girlfriend is at but for the moment, he wants to forget Jia is here. Can he just have one night where his past relationship isn’t brought up by Taehyun or Yeonjun or anybody else? Can he just pretend like the two of you are here as friends just hanging out and not because you somewhat pitied his circumstances?

“You look pretty tonight,” the words slipped before he could stop himself and he immediately turned red in embarrassment, “I mean… yknow…”

“Thanks,” you said casually as you filled a cup of whatever interested you, “I actually put in effort, just for you.”

You didn’t think much about what you said even though you could see the blush in his cheeks. It was a bit surprising actually. At first, you thought Soobin was just some distant gamer you shared an apartment with but little by little you’ve gotten to know him more. He’s still shy like you first assumed but he’s also kind of cute, as a friend you mean. It would be weird to think of him as anything but that considering what he’s gone through lately.

He couldn’t help but smile, trying to hide it by biting his lower lip but his dimple still showed through and for a second he just stood there looking at you. You handed him a drink and as he opened his mouth to say something else, a familiar feminine voice came from behind him.

“Soobin? Is this where you’ve been hiding all night?” Yuna asked as she entered the kitchen with a smile, “I kept hearing everyone say you were here but I couldn’t find you. Hey buddy.”

“Hey Yuna,” Soobin said with a smile. Yuna was one of the few other baristas from work and someone he did enjoy working with. She was bubbly and nice so they got along easily but she’s more friends with Jia than him. He still can’t tell if she knew Jia cheated on him or not and he hasn’t bothered saying anything. She knew something happened to make them break up but neither have gone into it for different reasons. He didn’t want to tell the whole world he was cheated on and Jia didn’t want to seem like the lying cheater she was.

“This is Y/n,” Soobin said suddenly, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward his side, “She’s my uh, um…”

“Friend,” you said, emphasizing on the word that it sounded like it had a double meaning and he couldn’t tell if you did it on purpose. Did you mean friend, like how he’s friends with Yeonjun and Taehyun? Or did you mean, friend, like something more?

While he tried to decipher it, Yuna seemed to pick up on the tone much faster than he did and her smile strained slightly. “Really? That’s, uh, that’s great. Have you seen Jia yet?”

“Who?” You asked Soobin, looking cutely confused, feigning innocence as you touched his arm.

“The girl from work,” Soobin said despite you already knowing. The room began to feel hot as Yuna stared at you and Soobin couldn’t take the heat. He didn’t like the way it seemed like she was trying to pick you apart with her eyes—probably seeing if there was anything she should tell Jiw and he couldn’t take it. It had him taking big sips of his drink to satiate his dry mouth, completely ignoring the heavy taste of alcohol.

“Binnie,” your use of a nickname nearly sent him in a spiral, it was the first time you’ve ever called him as such and there was a possibility it was all for show.

“Yeah?” He cleared his throat awkwardly, ignoring Yuna to turn to you.

“Don’t drink so fast, okay?” Concern was evident in your tone but you didn’t seem displeased. You just worried about having to haul a 6-foot-something drunk man back to your apartment when he wasn’t your boyfriend.

He looked down at his empty cup, realizing he really did chug back the full drink quickly and the thought alone made him dizzy. He’s usually good at knowing his limit but he’s been nervous all night. When you first got here he got a drink that emptied out right after he saw Taehyun for the first time. It was before Taehyun had even approached you two because he was in the middle of some game but it made Soobin nervous. He had to tell his friend ahead of time that he was bringing you but then the thought of Taehyun saying something he should had him anxious and he chugged his drink then too.

Now, Yuna’s here bringing up Jia once again and on top of that you’ve called him a friend but your tone sounded different than usual and you held his arm and called him Binnie—and it all just became too much.

What was wrong with him?

“Soobin?” You said his name a little while after the kitchen encounter and you sounded so distant despite standing right next to him. Just by looking at him, you could tell he was at least tipsy.

His cheeks were flushed, his eyes a bit lazy and he just seemed less stiff than earlier. He’s also leaning into you a bit, no longer caring who saw or what people thought of it but more so for a sense of comfort as his vision blurred with the alcohol in his system. “Hm?”

“You okay?” You asked as he blinked slowly, “You don’t seem as nervous anymore.”

“Oh! Um,” he looked down at you and how close the two of you had grown, making him grin, “I’m fine, I’m with you.”

“Okay… but let me know when you’re ready to call it a night,” you said with a small yawn and he couldn’t help but look to your lips, blinking away the thought as you pressed your lips closed and looked off in the distance.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts a bit but right now everything seemed fuzzy. The night had been fine at first. He hadn’t been nervous at all and was actually a bit excited to get a chance to hang out with you [aside from the night you stopped to get food] and he had been thinking on how it would go all day.

When the two of you got to the party he had met up with Taehyun and he had a good time with him too so the only time he ever felt uncomfortable was when he was reminded of the situation. Talking about Jia didn’t bother him as much as the reminder that everyone knew about it did. On top of that, anytime someone looked at you or asked who you were, he would get nervous. He doesn’t know what’s going on with him.

Just as you were going to ask him one more time if he was okay, you felt a sudden weight pressed against your shoulder as Soobin leaned into your side. He felt heavy against your arm and his head dipped low enough that his face was pressing into yours, “I think I’m ready.”

“Ready?” You ask, feeling your heart race as the warmth of his breath fanned your neck and his hand brushed against yours like he was debating reaching for yours. When you looked at him, it was finally noticeable that whatever he drank tonight had taken effect and he was finally drunk. He’s more quiet than you expected. His cheeks are red with a blush and his lips a bit pouty making him look a little cute.

He nodded his head aggressively, “Let’s go home.”

You didn’t question his decision and took his hand in yours when he swayed in his step and looked around for his friend so they could at least say their goodbyes. Every now and then you would look back to see how he was hanging but he seemed perfectly content having a blank mind and being dragged behind you.

“Soob? You good there, buddy?” Taehyun asked once he saw his friend’s state of drunkenness and placed a soothing hand on his tall friend’s back.

“Yesh,” Soobin said, leaning into your back, “Going home.”

Taehyun looked over at you with concerned eyes, “Are you alright? Sorry, I think he had too much to drink.”

“I’m good, the last bus will pass soon so we’ll just get home that way,” You told him, scanning the people around at the party, eyes catching on the one person you didn’t care to see.

Jia didn’t shy back from your short eye contact and she looked far from happy at the way Soobin was clinging to you—something he never did with her. To be fair, Jia was usually the one out at parties and getting wasted so she didn’t give him many chances to be the drunk one with no worries.

It bothered her to see how comfortable Soobin had gotten with another girl after their break up.

“Alright, i’ll give you my number and just let me know if you two get home safe,” Taehyun said before leaning closer into you, “Also, Soobin really likes being around you. Be safe.”

His friend left after that and for a moment you thought about what he just said, wondering how he meant it and if you were too hard into it.

“Y/n,” Soobin whined against you, “Home, please.”

“Oh my god, okay, let's go,” You said with a small laugh as he followed after you as got to the door.

Soobin was tired, he always got sleepy when he drank too much and when the two of you got on the empty bus, he couldn’t help but rest his head against the window. You didn’t pay much attention to him on the ride home but every now and then he could feel your eyes on him probably wondering how he was holding up. Going up to your apartment was another challenge trying to drag Soobin up the stairs without stumbling up the steps.

“Thanks,” Soobin yawned cutely as he rubbed his tired eyes, waving you goodnight.

You went to your room silently, flashing him a smile as you left and once your door was shut, you immediately began to undress. It had been a long night and all you wanted was to crawl in bed, scroll in your phone and go to sleep. You didn’t drink as much as Soobin did so the alcohol didn’t have the same effect on you but you were still tired. It was nice getting to hang out with him for a while despite the reason or who was around. At some points you were able to forget who was there but when you would catch sight of Jia and think back to Soobin, you just couldn’t understand why she would ever do that to someone.

Now changed into your pajamas, too tired to do anything more, you were halfway crawling on your bed when there was a soft thud on your door and a small whine of your name, “Y/n.”

“Yes, Soobin?” You asked with a sigh and a smile as you heard your roommate on the other side of the door, “I thought you were going to bed.”

“I’m not tired, can I come in?” He asked and you could practically see the pout on his lips. It was about midnight so you should just turn him away but you could hear the shuffling on the other side of the door and before you knew it, you were unlocking your bedroom door and letting him in.

“What’s wrong?” You asked as he hesitated to sit on the edge of your bed.

“Nothing,” he answered honestly, “I just… I wanted to see what you were up to, were you going to bed?”

“I was probably just going to be on my phone a bit,” you laid down on your usual spot reaching for the remote to your television, “What should I watch?”

You didn’t outwardly tell him to lay down next to you but the way you moved your things to your side, it was easy to assume you didn’t mind. Soobin was still hesitant to lay down with his back against your headboard but once you made no sign to kick him out, he let himself relax as you scrolled through Netflix.

“Something scary,” Soobin said, barely paying attention as he looked around your bedroom. This was the first time he had stepped into it since you moved in and it looks completely different than what it did before. He couldn’t explain into words but it looked like a room you would have. It was like an insight to who you are from the pictures on your walls to the clothes by your closet. It was cozy and your bed was so soft he found himself yawning.

“You surprised me tonight,” You told him as you finally settled on a movie about a haunted house, “First because you were surprisingly popul—“

“Why’s that a surprise?” Soobin asked, slightly more alert as he looked at you, “I’m a catch.”

“You are,” you said casually, “I just meant… a lot of people like you.”

He couldn’t help but bite his lips at your words. He didn’t mean to seem overly confident or anything but he knew he was somewhat likable. He tried being nice and friendly to everyone and clearly sometimes that didn’t work in his favor when it came to relationships but he’s always had people around him. Not everyone he would consider a real friend but the ones he have right now or the real deal.

Taehyun and him got along from the moment they met at work. Soobin’s the one who trained Taehyun when he first started and they just got super close from there.

Yeonjun has been his best friend for as long as he can remember and they even fight like an old bickering couple too.

Sometimes they don’t understand him—like when they thought he was still upset over Jia, and he needs a break from them but that’s where you came along. You’re one of his friends now too so does that mean you also like him?

As a friend?

As more?

No, not as more. He was getting ahead of himself.

“Don’t say those things to me, Y/n,” Soobin whined, hiding behind a pillow.

“Why?” You asked with a small laugh as he curled himself up on your bed, looking every bit out of place in your Sanrio bed sheets and his tall frame.

“Because, they’ll get to my head,” he confessed, sitting up a little to regain himself, “So what’s the other reason you were surprised by me?”

You hummed in thought, “You’re surprisingly cute when you’re drunk, and really clingy.”

It was clear that throughout the time it took to get home, Soobin had sobered up enough to have clearer thoughts and you just wanted to be honest. It’s what you believed and you hoped he wouldn’t take it the wrong way and think you were hitting on him. Sure, Soobin is attractive for many reasons and you enjoy hanging out with him but just think about the circumstances. He’s your roommate and he just got out of a relationship with someone who cheated on him.

“I mean,” you cleared your throat awkwardly, acting like you were watching the movie, “I bet you really sold it to Jia that you were seeing someone. There’s no way she’ll try and get you to go out with her again now.”

At the reminder, Soobin seemed to sigh, “Yeah.”

For a second he had thought you were going to say something else. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling at the moment and it worries him but at the same time it’s exciting and he wished he didn’t react this way to you and so soon.

“Do you work tomorrow?” You asked him, letting out a small yawn as you made yourself more comfortable indeed the covers.

“Only in the afternoon,” Soobin said, looking over at you hopefully, “Why? Do you want to do something?”

“I have to work, if I get off early I might stop by,” You said, looking back at him too. You could see the small dimple in his cheek become more prominent as he resisted the urge to smile, nodding his head.

With a small sigh, Soobin checked the time and sat up, “Okay, I’ll let you sleep.”

For some reason he wanted to do or say more but he’s not sure what he would’ve been able to say in the first place. You got up after him so you could close the door on his way out but at the door, you both stopped to look at each other.

“I did have fun tonight,” you told him truthfully.

Soobin stood at the door looking down at you with his lip pulled between his teeth. It was becoming more obvious that he liked being around you. He thought you were pretty and fun to be with and you have yet to make him feel poorly. He’s very aware of the fact that he’s only been single for a little over a month but he can’t deny the sudden race in his heart when you’re around.

It scares him to think he might be feeling something toward you at such an awkward time.

“Goodnight.”

Things slowly began to change between you two and neither one of you knew what to do about that sort of thing. On one hand, Soobin wanted to see if you would like to spend more time together but he also wasn’t sure if he was ready. It has nothing to do with how he felt toward his ex girlfriend and more with how he felt at possibly seeing someone again.

Jia was a major push to his confidence and definitely raised his insecurities and trust issues so he thought he would stay single for a while. Plus, you were his roommate which could pose an entirely different problem and yet none of that has helped him stop thinking about you. It’s been days from the party and he knows hes been slightly more in your bubble than before but its only because he doesn’t know how to read you.

How is he supposed to know how you might feel about him and how should he feel about it?

“You’re overthinking it,” Yeonjun said as he sat across from Soobin and Yeonjun who were in their matching brown aprons as part of the cafe’s unofficial uniform. The cafe was empty aside from a couple college students grossly immersed in their studies to care that the only two workers were currently siting at a table with a friend. Every now and then the three would feel the eyes of some high school girl gawking at them through the shop windows but none dared to enter making the cafe slow with traffic.

“If you like her, why can’t you at least try?” Yeonjun asked him like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Because she’s my roommate and what if that just messes things up completely?” Soobin asked.

“I mean, Y/n seemed pretty into you at the party,” Taehyun said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Soobin shook his head, “No, she was just being nice. I was drunk and probably embarrassed myself so there’s no way she liked it—well, okay she said it was cute, but do you think she meant it?”

Yeonjun reached across the small table and pinched Soobin’s cheek hard, pouting his lips in a kiss as he gushed over his friend, “Of course she meant it, just look at you. Who can resist this bunny face?”

Just as Soobin was ready to fight Yeonjun off, the familiar bell above the door rang and a loud burst of energy came through the door.

“Kai, I swear to god, if you don’t stop I’m going to bite you,” a guy said as he smacked another guy off and the two cafe workers couldn’t help but snap into attention and get behind the counter.

“Y/n,” Kai said with a forced whiny voice, “Save me.”

“Don’t touch me,” you pushed him off as you looked around the cafè for Soobin.

Just a couple feet away from you, he stood there with his lips parted in surprise before letting his eyes drift off to the two guys behind you. A smile spread across his lips as he left Taehyun and Yeonjun to go to you, “Hi, what are you doing here?”

“We were just at the arcade across the street so I figured why not stop for a drink?” You said with a gentle smile that had him practically giggling.

“Oh, so you didn’t come just to see me?” Soobin teased, a flirty undertone in his voice. He couldn’t help but glance back to the guys, curious who they were.

Since you moved in, you haven’t brought anyone home and he assumed you were single since you offered to go with him to a party—and let him on your bed, but now he’s not sure. What if everything you were doing really was as a friend and he’s just overthinking it all?

“Sadly no, I really need coffee,” you joked as he went to the counter to get you a drink. Taehyun was helping the two guys while you talked to Soobin and he couldn’t wait to be done so he can ask who they were.

“O-oh,” he cleared his throat awkwardly as he began to make it, ringing you up and trying to apply some sort of discount so you wouldn’t have to pay full price. Before he could tell you your total,one of the guys who was with you gave him cash to pay.

Beomgyu placed his hand on your shoulder as he leaned down to whisper, “Is this him?”

You just nodded your head ignoring his growing smile as he thanked Soobin for his change back and ruffled your hair, “Hurry up, I need real food.”

“Are you gonna be home later?” Soobin asked as the guys left through the door, waiting outside but looking in and it was clear they were talking about you. He wanted to say he was just curious for no reason but part of him wanted to know if you would be out with them.

“Probably, not till late though, I think we’re probably gonna go have a drink or two,” you said with a shrug and this was the perfect time for Soobin to ask who they were. Were they just friends? Was one of them something more? Have you been in any relationship?

“Let me know if you want me to pick you up,” Soobin said, “I-I mean, yknow, repay the favor from the other night that I embarrassed myself.”

“You didn’t,” you rolled your eyes looking around. Your friends were waiting and you had your drink so you should’ve left by now but instead you’re looking at his two friends. Taehyun had gone with Yeonjun again and it’s the first time in a while you saw Yeonjun. When you first met him he had gone over to the apartment and you had thought he was attractive. You still do but not in the same context anymore. Taehyun waved at you enthusiastically which you did back and looked back at Soobin, “It was cute, but should I call you tonight then? Or will you be asleep.”

“I’ll hear you come home either way, so come say hi even if it’s late,” Soobin said, making you nod your head.

“Okay, well I have to go before they come and drag me out,” you told him as you pointed to your two friends who were getting annoyed waiting out there.

“Y/n,” he called for you but when you looked back at him, he couldn’t bring himself to ask, “Nevermind, be safe.”

Soobin waved you goodbye and watched you leave with the guy from earlier wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“God, Bin, you can’t even hide it,” Yeonjun said with a chuckle as Soobin joined them again, “You looked jealous.”

“What?” Soobin looked at him with big doe eyes, looking every bit clueless as he felt, “No, I just—I don’t, um, Y/n’s… did I?”

They both nodded their heads and Taehyun said, “Yes but not too much. We noticed because we’re your best friends but I’m sure none of them could tell. You were all smiley and blush which is major cringecore with Y/n but any time you looked at those guys, you’d glare.”

“I don’t glare,” Soobin muttered under his breath as he stared at the window, “Besides, I don’t know if one of them is dating Y/n so there’s no point in doing anything now.”

“You didn’t bother to ask!?” Yeonjun and Taehyun asked at the same time that it caused Soobin to jump, feeling startled.

“I’m sorry but if I was into someone and I was in their bed and then I see them talking to someone, you better believe I’m going to ask who!” Yeonjun added, making Soobin groan in frustration that he couldn’t just man up and ask.

It’s clear there’s no point in pretending he isn’t catching feelings for you and he has to figure out how to tell you. The only problem is if you reject him, he won’t be sure how to live with you anymore—especially if you were to date someone.

He should’ve just acted curious and asked who they were.

“You guys are so annoying,” you said with a groan as you followed after your two best friends who were fighting down the street.

“Soobin and Y/n, kissing in a tree! K-I-S-S—ow, ow, ow!” Kai cried out as you pulled his ear.

“This is why I don’t tell you guys anything,” you said when they laughed. Kai was doing that creepy evil loud laugh he always does and Beomgyu is just instigating it.

“First of all, you tell us everything,” Beomgyu pointed out, “And what’s the problem? Pretty sure he likes you too.”

“Oh my god, I don’t like Soo—I mean, he’s my roommate, it would be weird,” you said, “Plus, he just got out of a relationship.”

“Yeah like two months ago or something, and she cheated on him,” Kai said before clutching his chest, “You could heal his heart.”

“Corny,” Beomgyu yelled and the two laughed again.

“Whatever, let’s just go eat.”

It took a lot of convincing from his friends for him to actually agree to just go for it. He had been debating it for a while now and each day that passed where he gets to see you first thing in the morning or last thing at night just reminds him he wants to keep seeing you. He’s not sure how much more he could go just acting like a friend.

He likes everything about you and he’s not good at hiding it. Usually, it takes him a while to fall for someone.

When he met Jia its because they were partners in chemistry one semester and she helped him get the job at the cafe so he could make more money aside from his internship. Truth be told, Jia kind of scared him at first because she never hid her interest from him. She was aggressive with it and he didn’t know how to react so he never made a move on her.

She’s the one who had to ask him and even then, he didn’t say yes right away because he hadn’t been sure if it was something he wanted to do. Over time he obviously grew feelings for her but the relationship never felt as easy as his friendship with you did.

So really, the realization of how differently and strongly he felt for you in such a short time was an indicator that he clearly had strong feelings for you.

When he got home after the cafe, he had a strong sense of confidence that was going to be his push to just go for it. He had been talking himself up all day and had decided the worst thing that could happen is you say no. He could live with that… maybe.

“Y/n?” Soobin called out to you as he dropped his things at the door, “You home?”

You were in your room reading some poetry book with music playing quietly and he knocked on your open door. You looked up at him, sliding your headphones down to your neck, “Hey.”

You sat up a little, motioning for him to come inside and he looked around nervously, “Are you busy?”

“No?” You smiled as you looked down at your book, “What’s up?”

Soobin bit his lip in thought as he tried to figure out how to word it before saying, “Do you want to… I don’t know, get food? Maybe go for a walk later?”

“Um, sure?” You said with a racing heart, “What time?”

“Um, an hour? Forty five minutes?” Soobin asked, more eager now knowing you’ll hang out with him, “Thirty?”

“In thirty minutes?” You asked, “Okay.”

“Okay, I’m just gonna change and probably, uh,” Soobin blinked nervously, “Get ready.”

“Okay,” you laughed softly as he nearly stumbled out the door. Once your door was shut, you jumped out of bed and straight to your vanity where you hoped to make yourself look a little better.

This wasn’t a date.

Soobin didn’t ask you out, he just asked you to get food.

How would you feel if he were to ask you on a date? Would he ever do that or does he only see you as a friend? For all you know, he’s sworn off dating completely.

When you left with Soobin at your side, things were normal. You talked about normal things, laughed about normal things and for a while you were able to forget your worries. You were just spending time with someone you enjoy spending time with without thinking every little thing over nonstop.

“So what’s your type?” Soobin asked so suddenly that you nearly choked on your water. Usually he’s not so forward with his questions so it caught you off guard. The two of you were at a small restaurant and it felt oddly like a date when he asked you things like this.

With an awkward clear of your throat, you said, “Um, I’m not sure if I have a type. The people I’ve been with in the past have all been a little different, I think.”

“What about looks?” Soobin asked, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. He knows he’s an attractive guy but what if he still wasn’t your type?

You laughed softly, “I don’t know, Binnie, I like who I like.”

Soobin couldn’t help but blush, as he finally decided to ask, “What about me?”

You looked at him curiously, trying to decipher what he meant and when he couldn’t meet your gaze, you said, “You?”

“Am I your type?” He asked quietly. The server brought your meals which worked as a distraction to give you time to calm your beating heart and you took a deep breath.

It was hard to say because as of now… yes. You’ve always thought Soobin was attractive and kind and you’ve never actually dated someone like him so to say he’s your type is weird when you’re not sure if you even have one. You like Soobin, you know you do but what would it mean if you answer this question and what does he expect you to say?

“I think so,” you said shyly, looking down at your plate to avoid his gaze. Soobin resisted the urge to smile and ask you more about how you might feel for him.

He tried not to bring so much up while you had your late dinner and when the bill came, it became another topic of discussion.

“Soobin, you paid last time,” you said remembering the time you went to get hotpot last time, “Either I can pay or we can split the bill.”

“I asked you to come out with me,” Soobin said, getting his wallet out, “So I’m going to pay.”

“Binnie,” you said to him, watching him set money for the bill and a little extra for a tip before standing up, ready to leave. The server took the money and bid you both a goodnight.

“Y/n,” he used the same whiny voice you had, “Next time I’ll let you pay, I promise.”

Part of him wanted to reach for your hand as you left the restaurant but instead, he said, “I don’t want to go home yet.”

You have to admit, Soobin is really making your heart flutter in a very confusing way. You thought about taking his hand in yours and leading him toward the park across the street but you decided against it, unsure if it was something he wanted.

The night of the party when you held his hand, he made sure to not let it go even when you were on the bus but maybe it was just because he was drunk and not feeling good?

“So let’s go on a walk then,” you said, taking the reign to hold his hand, trying not to think about it.

Soobin smiled widely as he happily held yours, swinging them a little, “Y/n, I just want to say, you’re one of my best friends.”

He’s not sure he’s ever been able to call someone he’s dating his best friend. His past girlfriends never really cared to get to know him or have the same interests which wasn’t necessarily a problem but you’ve become his friend first and he thinks that’s what helped him develop feelings for you. You liked the same things, you enjoyed each other’s company and you never made him feel weird no matter what he did. He was being honest when he called you his best friend, it’s just that he wanted you to be more too.

“Who’s my competition?” You asked, waiting for him to say Taehyun or Yeonjun but he just shook his head, fixing your hands so your fingers were intertwined.

“You don’t have any,” Soobin shrugged, staring ahead at the path of street lamps, feeling a slight chill in the night air.

After a while the two of you decided to take a seat on a bench nearby, just under a streetlamp that casted down on it like a scene from a movie. You couldn’t help but shiver under the cold yet neither one of you brought up possibly going home—as if that would end the chances of spending time together.

Soobin felt you shivering beside him and without wasting too much time pondering, he scooted closer to you until his side was pressed to yours and provide you with much needed warmth. You looked at him with a teasing a smile, “So what you’re saying is, I’m actually your only best friend. I’m not sure if Taehyung or Yeonjuun would like that.”

He smiled cheekily, “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind, I don’t really keep it a secret that you’re my new favorite person.”

“Oh wow, what an honor. What did I do to deserve that?” You asked with a playful tone, trying to hide the way your face began to heat up.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, looking over at you with soft, moonlit eyes, “I’m still trying to figure that out too.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, unsure what to even say and you just looked into each other’s eyes, wondering if you were thinking the same. You were so close now and it was getting very hard to ignore when you couldn’t look away from him. Soobin was hesitant for a long while, debating if he should just go for it.

There were a millón things running through your mind, some about kissing him, or not kissing. Wondering if you should cross the line or give him space. You turned to face him, lips parting, “I—“

It happened rather quickly, the brush of his lips against yours, and you hadn’t fully thought it through when you kissed him back. There was a sudden sense of bliss that caused him to relax into the short kiss, melting into you when your lips moved against his.

His fingers lingered on your thigh, itching to deepen the kiss with a hand in your hair. Just as he was going to reach out, you pulled away abruptly, nearly leaving him to follow and his eyes snapped awake, unaware when he closed them.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” You whispered so quietly he could barely hear you. It didn’t stop his heart from dropping with clarity, “Oh”

You were rejecting him, even if you kissed him too.

“Binnie, I just—I like you but,” You bit your lip nervously, ‘I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Oh,” he slumped back, giving you more space, “Why? Because we live together?”

“Yeah,” you sounded regretful, “And you haven’t been single for long and I just don’t want to be a, um…”

“You think it’ll be like a rebound?” Soobin asked with a small scoff, “Y/n, I… I wouldn’t do that to you, I want to try with you.”

“But, I don’t know, I just don’t want this to become a real thing, and it ends badly and we can’t talk anymore,” you confessed, “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Soobin said, “I get it.”

He doesn’t.

Silence filled the space between you and neither one of you knew what to do about it. The awkwardness was already beginning to settle and he didn’t want that at all. A sorry smile spread across his lips, “You’re still my favorite person.”

A laugh left your lips, an ounce of worry disappearing but you still felt awful. You liked Soobin, and you were always such a sure person but when it comes to relationships you can be doubtful. You never know their full intentions and although Soobin is a really good guy but you haven’t known each other long and he was just in a relationship not that long ago.

After a while he asked if you should head home and the walk back was a bit quieter.

Honestly, you really did like Soobin. You never thought of him as anything more than a friend but not because you wanted to friendzone him but because you I never thought he saw you as anything but. Maybe you thought you would be the one rejected that you never thought about him romantically. He was attractive and you always knew so but you just seemed different at the time.

You were friendly, you talked nicely to each other and to only been a while since you started hanging around him. You assumed you were the only one feeling this way and its strange to learn that’s not true.

How would you have guessed he had feelings for you? Sure, he was nice from the getgo but it had always been casual. The only time e acted differently was when he was drunk and even then you assumed it was because he was too drunk to remember. Sheen he crawled into your bed after, it are your heart race but nothing happened between you two and it was never mentioned again. You grew to like him but you had no idea he would start liking you too.

It was a flaw in your character design, you think. You have no problem making decisions and being more confident and in control with it came to other things but for some reason when it comes to yourself, you’re doubtful. It’s easy for you to catch on to feelings when it comes to others but yourself.

That’s not to say you’ve never been in a relationship with someone but you’ve always just struggled reading how someone feels about you. Now you feel awful thinking you read Soobin’s intentions wrong but you couldn’t help it. You know what it feels like to be a rebound and its not a feeling you want to go through again.

The other person didn’t make you feel as good as your time with Soobin does and that’s what worried you. You’re also not in a spot to put your living situation at risk again. You had gotten so lucky to find him and f it goes bad between you, where would you go? You’re not as strong as Soobin. He could keep working with Jia and seeing her in public after what she did to him and be fine, but would you be able to live with him after? If he hurt you, or if you hurt him… could you handle it?

Lately, its not that you’ve been purposely avoiding him but ever since the kiss, your paths have barely passed. It seems like you both made an effort to interact at least once before and now that you’re not, its been boring.

When Soobin gets to the cafe, he couldn’t even think about having to work with Jia. She wasn’t in his mind anymore because all he could think about is you. You didn’t fully reject him and that’s what drives him insane.

“Hey Soob,” Taehyung said as he watched his friend walked past him with a somber expression, completely ignoring him.

You like him. You said you liked him, right? So why can’t you just give him a chance?

His mind felt a million miles away as he slipped up on his apron, tying it over his baggy shirt and sweats. Soobin was unaware of the stares his coworkers sent him as he found his job for the day and busied himself with it.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Jia pointed out toward the end of their shift, “Did something happen?”

Her voice was laced with feigned concern and that only bother him more. Why does she bother pretending like she cares about him?

“Nothing that you have to worry about,” Soobin mumbled more to himself than her but she heard him anyway. He wouldn’t tell her about you and how you somewhat rejected him, instead he looked at the time wishing Taehyun could’ve just stayed till close with him and Jia.

“Soobin,” Jia’s voice was soft, coming over to where he was wiping down tables and chairs, “I know you and I aren’t as close as we used to be but… I really do care about you.”

A small scoff left his lips that he wasn’t able to hide as much as before and he turned away, ready to leave her behind so he could be alone.

“Does it have anything to do with that girl?” She asked closer to close when there wasn’t a single customer in sight and the sign had already been flipped.

Soobin couldn’t help but release a sigh in frustration as he looked at her, “Jia, why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” She asked with furrowed brows.

“Why are you acting like you all of a sudden care? Can’t we just work without talking and then go home?” Soobin asked, clearly annoyed and not in the mood for her.

He’s kept his mouth shut ever since they broke up and he’s never asked her to explain anything or to apologize so why doesn’t she just let it go. He’s been biting his tongue because he didn’t want to seem bitter that she cheated on him but at this point he doesn’t care. He has other things to worry about then listening to his ex girlfriend try and act like everything is okay between them.

“Soobin, I’m sorry,” Jia confessed watching as he walked past her to the front door already holding the key to lock the shop for the night, “I know I probably hurt you and what I did was unforgivable but can you please just give me one more chance. I—I don’t like thinking you hate me.”

“Jia, I don’t hate you,” Soobin told her honestly as they stood outside and he can see the way she got hope in her eyes, making him keep explaining, “And I can work with you because I have to but I’m not going to forgive you.”

It felt strange being so honest after acting unaffected for a while but it was the truth and he needed to get it out, “You cheated on me, don’t you get that?”

“I know bu—“

“No, you clearly don’t know because since you saw me and Y/n get closer all you’ve wanted to do is talk to me. It’s not because you still want me but because you know you fucked up and don’t want me to move on with anyone else,” Soobin said harshly, “Do you realize how frustrating it is to want to be with someone and everyone thinks you’re not over your cheating ex girlfriend?”

Jia looked like she wanted to say something but the words were caught in her throat, so Soobin continued, “You slept with someone I lived with behind my back and in my own home and you think apologizing and asking for one more chance is going to work?”

She was frozen, unsure what to say or if she should say anything at all. Of course he’s right and she was only wishing that things could change but she knows that she fucked up. Being with Soobin had been great, he was sweet and caring and she wanted more so she looked for more in a guy who doesn’t mean a thing to either one of them.

It had always felt like Soobin didn’t love her, like he only dealt with her because they were dating and even then it felt like she pushed him to it. He never got upset with her, even when he caught her cheating, he was just quiet and listened to her apologies over and over again. All he did was ask them both to leave and that was it. When he still went to work at the cafe she hoped it was a sign that he would forgive her if he could still stand being around her but then you came along and she could see the way Soobin’s face began to light up.

From the get-go, she feels like you were able to draw more out from him than she ever was and that really did annoy her. She’s not putting the blame on him for her cheating but why couldn’t he show more with her as he had with you and why is it too late now?

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, close to tears but it was obvious Soobin didn’t care anymore.

“Have a good night, Jia,” he sighed, leaving her behind as he went to the bus stop.

He likes you, you’re all he’s been able to think about and he can’t stand knowing you doubt his intentions. Soobin has never been the type to use someone for his own gain and even that night of the party he forgot you went with him so he wouldn’t be alone knowing Jia was there. Once he had you with him, he didn’t care who was around. All he cared about was you and he needs you to know that.

When he got home, he was surprised to see you coming out of your bedroom right as he walked through the front door. You looked over at him, nervous and unsure what to say or if you should say anything at all. You weren’t sure if he was still upset with you or if he was ever really upset by what you said.

“Hey,” you said shyly, walking toward the kitchen where you were returning a bowl.

“Hey,” Soobin set his things, debating if he should go to his room or just try with you one more time.

Now that he’s told Jia how he feels about her still trying with him, he feels more confident to tell you exactly what it is he wants with you. He doesn’t want a rebound, he doesn’t care about his last relationship, he cares about getting to know you and kissing you more.

“Were you just at work?” You asked, trying to make some conversation, see if you could read how he might feel with you.

“Yeah,” Soobin joined you in the kitchen, “I had to close with Jia.”

You turned away from the counter, jumping slightly at how close he was behind you suddenly, “And how was that?”

“Well she apologized and asked for a second chance,” Soobin said, looking down at you, so close that his front nearly brushed against yours. You raised a brow in surprise that Jia had the nerve to ask for another chance but you wondered if Soobin was bringing this up because he planned on giving it to her.

“Oh?” You said, unsure what he was planning on saying next.

Soobin bit his lip, not shying away from your stare like he normally would, “So I told her that it was never going to happen because I’ve moved on and I like you and I don’t want you to think I’m using you or still not over my ex because I’m so over her, you don’t understand. The night of the party was one of the first nights I realized how much I like you and it’s taken me a while to admit it because I wanted to be sure.”

You blinked in surprise as he moved even closer, “And I know you kind of rejected me the other night but I also know you like me too so if you just give me one chance, I swear I’ll be the best boy you’ve ever been with and I have no intentions of just being with you as some rebound. You mean so much more to me and I should’ve told you that the other night but Y/n, I really want to be with you and no one else.”

With a small sigh, you leaned onto the counter behind you and nodded, “I want to be with you too, Binnie, but…”

He couldn’t hold back the smile on his face as he reached forward, cupping your face in his hands, “Y/n, just give me a chance.”

“I—okay,” you laughed softly and with that, he was leaning down, pressing his lips to yours gently.

Your eyes fell shut, reaching out to touch him when he moved closer, pushing you against the counter with no room to go anywhere. A small gasp left your lips in surprise and it gave him a chance to deepen the kiss with his tongue.

“Soobin,” you laughed in shock as he pulled back in an attempt to catch his breath, “That was unexpected, different from the last kiss.”

His hands were resting on the counter, trapping you between them, he was leaning downuntil he could leave tender kisses along your neck, “I’m sorry, I… it was sudden and last time you wanted to stop.”

He was panting softly, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to take a deep breath, “Do you want to stop again?”

You looked into his eyes, “Not really.”

That was all he needed to hear before leaning back down for a kiss, this time sliding his hands down to your waist, grounding himself to the reality of this all. Your hands went to his soft black hair, brushed it out of his face and kissed him feverishly.

Soobin’s lips parted against yours, a sigh of relief escaped as he tilted his head to the side. You were a bit surprised by his forwardness once again that when his tongue trailed along your lower lip as if asking for permission, all you could was grant it. Your tongues met smoothly, circling around each other, before pulling back to his lips on your bottom one. Was he such a good kisser last time?

The more he seemed to lean forward and close the nonexistent gap between you, the more you leaned back with need, never once pulling your mouth away from his. With an annoyed huff at your attempt to lean back, he found himself tightening his grip on your waist before pulling you onto the counter making you gasp, “Bi—“

The near call of his nickname made him groan into your mouth, he kissed you with frenzy, like soon you would change your mind and everything would stop.

A small laugh escaped your lips at his eagerness, not shying away from wrapping your legs around his waist as he sat you down on the peninsula countertop. You brought a hand down to the cold marble, trying to steady yourself when he kissed along your jaw, then your neck leaving small red marks where he nipped at.

“Y/n,” Soobin’s voice caught you by surprise, his usual tone was deeper and hoarse with need as he pulled away from kissing you. His hands remained on your waist, his thumbs underneath the thin fabric of your shirt, inching it up just slightly, “One chance.”

“That’s all it’s gonna take,” he mumbled with swollen lips as he looked down at your lap, the material of your leggings not threatening and you could feel his hands slide down till they were at the hem of your leggings.

His gaze was darkened and you were admittedly incredibly turned on by this new side of him. It’s not like you expected him to suddenly take the lead so heavily but you can’t say you hated it. It’s different that what you’re used to from him and it makes you think back to the night of your first kiss. Should you have said yes all along? Would you have ever gotten to see this side of him where he felt the need to express just how much he wants to be with you?

Your eyes locked with his as he slowly began to pull down the material of your pants, lifting your hips slightly as he let them slide down. It’s like he was still waiting for you to tell him stop but with the parting of your legs and the way you guided him down to his knees, it was clear to him you wanted this just as bad.

Soobin started with gentle kisses along your thighs, neither you caring that you were doing this in your kitchen, it only seemed to fuel the heat in his stomach that you were alone. You licked your lips with anticipation, eyes dropping with need at the way he pulled your legs over his shoulders swiftly, looking down at your covered heat with a cute sort of curiosity.

He could see through the thin fabric how turned on you had gotten from the kiss. He can make out the shape of your slit and there was a slight dampness where your entrance would be and it made him feel so much bitter about the growing bulge in his jeans. With eager fingers, he pulled the fabric down, unable to help himself from teasing your heat with his nose tip, “Y/n.”

Your name fell from his lips so prettily that you nearly missed the urgency in it until you were looking at him, looking down at your cunt until finally, he leaned in. A sigh in content escaped you as he placed a soft kiss along your folds, teasing you by avoiding your hardened clit. His hands which held your legs apart were so far up your thighs you could feel the shadow of them against your core and it felt good to be grabbed by him. You never noticed just how big his hands were, or how good he could possibly be with his mouth.

After the light teasing he did with your folds, he licked softly against your clit before pulling it into his mouth, sucking gently making you moan for the first time. Soobin’s eyes immediately went to your face as he swirled his tongue around your clit, lathering it in his drool as he watched your face contort in pleasure making him throb in his jeans uncomfortably.

With one hand on the counter for support, your other hand went to his hair, pulling him closer between your legs and you could feel one of his hands unravel from your thigh and come up to your cunt. You could feel the tip of his middle finger dip into your folds, collecting whatever slick your pussy let out when he sucked on your clit and ever so gently, he pushed a finger in.

“You’re so pretty,” he sighed, attempting to catch his breath as he let his finger do some of the work. He rested his cheek against the softness of your thigh while beginning to thrust his middle finger into your wet pussy, “So fucking pretty, Y/n.”

With a deep groan, he went back to your clit, letting his middle finger hook into your g-spot while he mouthed at your clit, costing it in spit while fucking you with his finger. Your hand in his hair never let up, you used it for support, unable to keep your moans down, “Binnie.”

He felt the way you fluttered around him and it only made him put in more effort to bring you to your edge—and not just on the counter. He was nearly on his knees and his legs were beginning to cramp, his cock was getting heavy in its confinement but he didn’t let up. Instead, he let his mouth glide over your wet cunt leaving open mouth kisses in its wake.

“Oh god,” you whined softly as you felt a second finger push into your heat and a few seconds of this had your thighs threatening to shut, feeling the familiar knot in the pit of your stomach, “Your mouth feels so good.”

“Cum for me then, baby,” the words slipped from his lips without thought but for some reason those were the exact words you needed to hear. He felt your release on his tongue a short moment after he spoke and your folds throbbed with please around him.

“That’s it,” he groaned, watching your juice drop around his fingers, gently pulling them away and letting you relax post orgasm.

You looked at him with a new sense of attraction, why was he so confident in bed? Soobin’s cheeks flushed red as he looked down at the mess you made on the counter but his dick loved the sight of your release dripping down on the counter. It was an easy clean up and it was hot, so fucking hot.

Without much thought put into it, Soobin raised his soaked fingers to his lips, humming softly at the taste of your essence. A bunny-like grin spread across his face as he couldn’t help but laugh, “You know we’re not done, right?”

Despite the last couple moments where he’s initiated intimacy, he didn’t wait for permission. He was letting you know he wasn’t done with you yet and that made it all the better when he pulled you into his arms, not caring that you were half naked and taking you toward his bedroom.

He set you down on his bed gently, looking down at you as he yanked off his shirt exposing a lean body of muscle you hadn’t expected.

Soobin isn’t the type to show off his body, he liked more loose fitting clothes and whenever he’s complimented on his physique he always gets shy. Whenever he leaves his room or he knows you’re home he makes sure to be fully dressed and he’s kept himself a secret from you out of nervousness that you might get uncomfortable. Now that your eyes are on his toned stomach, all he could think about is how he wished you’d seen him sooner—if he knew you would look at him like this.

Seeing him undress before you, taking his jeans off next followed by his briefs left you with your lip pulled between your teeth. You now knew why he looked so sweaty early in the mornings, he went to the gym at dawn while you slept in.

You sat up and pulled your shirt off, careful to undo your bra as you felt the bed dip down with his weight and he crawled toward you, helping you throw your things down before pushing you to lay down.

“Condom?” You ask, making him look at you with a sense of curiosity. He knew what you were asking and he of course would oblige but as he looked down at your naked bodies and the way his hard cock pressed against your head, he couldn’t help but let his mind go astray. He just couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

You let Soobin get up as he leaned over his nightstand, praying to the universe that he had a condom somewhere about. It’s obvious he hasn’t had sex in a good long while but he’s just hoping the universe is on his side and he can find one.

After a moment of searching, his heart raced, moved back between your legs and kissed you hungrily. You took the condom from his hands, ripped the wrapper off and searched down his toned abdomen till you found his stiff member. Although you haven’t gotten a good look at it, it had a weight to it and good girth that you couldn’t help but write with need.

Soobin didn’t hesitate to himself up with your entrance when you got the condom on and as gentler as ever, he pushed in. A low growl left his lips as your walls hugged him tightly and he couldn’t help but let his strength falter, nearly crushing you with his weight at the pleasure.

"Mmm," he groans into your neck, his body pressed against yours as he pulled out slowly, taking a moan to let you feel his big mushroom tip against your ring of nerves. Once he needed more, he pushed back in with a bit more force.

“Soobin,” you moaned, letting your head fall back into to the pillows as his hips began a steady pace of thrusting into you, "Oh… fuck."

He brushed his lips against yours, fucking you with his big cock, basking in the feel of your pussy around him, “So wet, bub.”

His voice had softened even if his thrusts grew rougher, “You feel so good around me.”

Soobin couldn’t help but be close and he was awfully pathetic for it. In his defense, he had just made out with a girl he was crushing on for the past hour. Add on how he ate your pussy in the kitchen [of all places] he felt it was only human of him to be so close to cumming despite barely fucking you.

With a deep grunt, he snuck his hand under your arched back pulling you off the bed and a quiet squeal left your lips. You moved your legs to hug his waist and cling to him when he sat you down on his thighs, cock still deep in your pussy. Soobin’s hands founded their way to the softness of your ass, pinching softly at the way you basically cock warmed him and it took him a moment to raise you up, and pull you back to take him all.

“Please Y/n,” he groaned, grinding your pussy on his dick, “Just say you want to be with me already, fuck. I just want to hear you say it.”

Pure bliss was evident on his face and your usual cute Soobin was replaced by a feral, dark and lustful Soobin you weren’t used to. His hair was sweaty and voice so deep that you couldn’t help but succumb to his advances.

He hugged your body to his and you began to bounce on his lap, kissing his neck and letting your hands trace down his chest feeling his nipples harden, “I want to be with you, Binnie.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, “I’m gonna cum.”

His eyes squeezed shut urging every muscle in his body to hold back from cumming first but he couldn’t. A shiver ran down his body as he felt the knot in his stomach come undone, his cock shooting thick spurts of cum into the condom, trembling underneath you.

“Fuck,” his voice was dry, urging you to keep riding his cock, “Keep going.”

“Bin—“ you moaned, hearing the desperation in his voice and did as you were told. It didn’t take long for you to let go, cumming in his arms as he whispered how good you felt around him.

As gentle as ever, he set you back on the bed, collapsing on top of you in a sweaty mess that had you groaning.

“Sticky,” you mumbled, “I feel sticky.”

Soobin looked down at you and the mess the two of you made of each other, blinking with confusion on how things had escalated so quickly. Did he do that?

“Sorry,” he pouted, “Do you want to get cleaned up?”

“I think so,” you giggled softly as he reluctantly let you sit up, “How about I meet you back here in a minute?”

Soobin couldn’t think of anything to say and with a silent nod, he let you gather your things and leave.

You weren’t trying to ditch him but you needed to freshen up at least a little bit.

He thought about waiting for you in his bed after he cleaned up after himself but after a while he began to overthink it. Would you actually come back? He understands you’re just a wall away but the distance seemed so far now that he couldn’t help but get up and dressed, following you out his bedroom.

In the process of heading to your room, he stopped in the kitchen to clean up the mess as best as he could for the moment. A soft hum left his lips as he did so and when his eyes landed on a thin piece of lace fabric, he blinked curiously.

With a someone innocent look in his eyes, Soobin picked up your underwear, biting down on his bottom lip to stop a mischievous smile from growing before he shoved them in the pocket of his sweats, unsure what he would do with them later on. A giddy smile plastered his face, dimples on display as he walked toward your room, hearing the water run and he laid in your bed.

“Now, I thought I said I would be back in a minute,” you laughed softly when you came out your bathroom and Soobin just cutely snuggled himself deeper between your sheets and pillows.

“It was too long,” Soobin said as he lifted your bed covers, “Come lay down.”

“I gotta clean out th—“

“I already did,” Soobin whined when you tried walking past him on the bed and with a gentle pull on your wrist, he was leading you onto the bed.

“Did you?” You asked, letting him pull you down until you were laying down next to him, feeling him snuggle into you with his face against your breasts.

“Mhm,” he hummed, his interest caught on the softness of your chest—a place he had neglected when he knew damn well he shouldn’t have.

“Binnie,” you warned when you felt nuzzle into your breasts, squirming against your side, “It’s late already.”

“I know, but your bed… it’s so soft,” he clearly didn’t mean the bed and he thought he was just being a sly bunny, “And you said you would be with me now. Don’t kick me out.”

You could already feel his print press against your thigh, a clear sign that he was getting turned on all over and it was obvious he skipped over wearing anything under his sweats.

A gasp left his lips when he felt your hand palm his erection lightly and unexpectedly, saying to him, “Well, I guess my bed hasn’t been broke into yet.”

Soobin’s hand clutched yours tightly, following you so close that he almost stepped on the back of your shoes everytime you walked. The bar was packed with people and it made his anxiety spike up a bit and feeling your hand in his made him feel slightly better.

“Now don’t get too drunk tonight,” Taehyun said with a laugh as he trailed after you two. Soobin just glared at him, letting you take the lead to order the drinks, eyeing the bartender who was a little too nice to you.

“I don’t plan on drinking too much if he’s the bartender all night,” Soobin mumbled under his breath, hearing the way the bartender talked to you compared to the others. You didn’t pay him any mind but Soobin was watching him too closely that it made Taehyun laugh.

“Relax buddy, you already got Y/n and I don’t think she’s going anywhere,” Taehyun said looking around the bar, waving down Yeonjun who had been search for them all night. Even if your attention was on the bartender, you still held Soobin’s hand, beating him to it when he offered to pay.

“You paid the last two times we went out,” you told him, handing everyone their drink but Soobin was whining.

“But I like paying for you, Taehyun and Yeonjun have their own money,” Soobin said, turning to his friends with a scowl, “Don’t spoil them, only me if you do things like this.”

You laughed, feeling his arm circle around your waist, “It’s okay, come on, my friends are around here somewhere.”

“Hurry up before I puke,” Yeonjun groaned, reminding Soobin that he wasn’t alone with you at home and it made him shy, hiding behind you as you lead the way.

“Wow, Y/n, I didn’t know you were so rizz!” A loud voice yelled out from your side before you were being pummeled back a few steps with large arms around you, jumping excitedly.

“Whoa, rizz!” Beomgyu shouted equally as annoying, making you groan. Soobin smiled nervously as he looked back to his friends who looked just as confused as him. He felt awkward seeing you being hugged by two guys but he tried to ignore it knowing they were just your friends.

“Binnie this is Kai and that’s Beomgyu,” you told him before looking at your friends, “Guys this is Soobin, my boyfriend.”

His dimples showed through and he couldn’t help but smile widely as you addressed him. When you joined his side against he was quick to reach for you, more happy now that you’ve called him that.

“Hello,” Beomgyu stood straight and brought a hand to his forehead as if in salute, “This is our first formal meeting.”

Kai nodded as he took your drink in his own hands, “Yeah, we would have said hi to you when we went to the cafe but Y/n wouldn’t let us because she didn’t want you to know she had a big fat mega obtuse crush on you.”

“Oh my god,” you rolled your eyes at him, “It wasn’t like I was obsessed. I was just, yknow, curious.”

Taehyun put a hand on Soobin’s shoulder, “You see? Y/n liked you then too.”

You spent the night either sitting on Soobin’s lap or dancing with him when he asked you to, and when you went home, he jumped in your bed like he’s been doing since the first night.

… THE END, okay I’m out of text boxes but basically sorry it took my so long to finally drop a Soobin fic but hopefully the length of this makes up for it 😭after drafting a story, hating it, drafting a new story, hating it and repeating the cycle for months, I finally got one finish. please interact and lmk what you thinks… it’s kinda a mess but I tried 🤒

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

wicked game

chapter 3 - frat president

synopsis: y/n is sarah’s roommate and the embodiment of sunshine. rafe, on the other hand, is her complete opposite. when the boys place a bet that he can't win her over, rafe takes the challenge without hesitation. after all, he never backs down from a dare. the closer rafe gets to y/n, he finds himself drawn to her warmth in a way he never expected, and for the first time, he wants to be more than just the guy with a bad reputation.

but secrets don’t stay hidden for long, and when y/n finds out the truth, rafe is left to face the consequences. now, he has to prove that somewhere along the way, the bet stopped mattering, because losing her was never part of the plan.

masterlist

cw: language, alcohol, drugs

the group guided you to the kitchen where all the alcohol was kept. jj took it upon himself to grab drinks for everyone, shoving a red solo cup into your hand with a wink. “for you, y'n."

"thanks jj." you eyed the cup warily before taking a small sip. the burn of cheap liquor mixed with coke made you wince, but you forced a smile. cleo laughed at your expression. “yeah, you get used to it.”

sarah linked her arm with yours. “come on, let’s make a lap around the party. gotta get the full experience.”

you let her guide you through the crowd, weaving between groups of people dancing, flirting, and shouting over the music. the kappa tau house was massive, with more rooms than you could count, each one filled with students making the most of their first week back.

out in the garden, a massive beer pong game was underway, a group of guys cheering obnoxiously as a ping pong ball landed perfectly in a red cup.

sarah smirked, nodding toward them. “wanna give it a shot?"

you hesitated, "really?"

"come on, it'll be fun." kie chimed in, leading you to the group.

you grabbed a ping pong ball, rolling it between your fingers as you took in the scene. the guys across the table, two cocky-looking juniors, smirked at you like they had already won.

john b leaned in. “aim for the middle cups. trust me.”

you took a deep breath, lined up your shot, and tossed the ball. it bounced once, hit the rim, and, by some miracle, landed perfectly in a cup.

the group around you erupted into cheers. jj whistled. “beginner’s luck or secret beer pong prodigy?”

you laughed, feeling some of the nerves melt away. “definitely luck.”

kie grinned. “we’ll see about that.”

the game continued, and before you knew it, you were laughing, talking, and actually having fun. you had just downed another sip of your drink when sarah’s face suddenly twisted in annoyance.

“oh, great,” she muttered.

you followed her gaze, and that’s when you saw them. two guys were making their way through the party like they owned the place.

“they’re coming over here,” cleo murmured under her breath.

“why?” you asked, unaware of the situation.

sarah sighed. “because topper still thinks we’re friends even though i've told him a thousand times we’re not.”

“well, well,” the one you presumed to be topper grinned, looking at sarah. “didn’t think i’d see you here, cameron.”

sarah crossed her arms. “yeah, i tend to regret it every time i do.”

topper just laughed, clearly unbothered, before his eyes flickered to you. his smirk widened. “and who’s this?”

before you could answer, the other boy, who had been silent up until now, let out a low chuckle. “fresh meat.”

you turned sharply, meeting his gaze. he was already looking at you, eyes cold and assessing, like he was sizing you up.

you felt your blood boil. "it's y/n," you corrected, voice steady despite the way he was staring at you.

he tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering across his face like he found your defiance entertaining.

"sarah’s new roommate," kie said before he could respond.

topper’s brows raised. "ohhh. so you’re the new angel on her shoulder?"

sarah rolled her eyes. "fuck off, top."

topper just smirked, taking a slow sip from his cup, clearly enjoying getting under sarah’s skin.

but you barely noticed him anymore, because the other guy was still staring at you. his gaze unsettling.

"you gonna keep looking at me like that, or do you actually have something to say?" you asked, raising a brow.

kie stifled a laugh, cleo shot you an approving look, and sarah looked like she wanted to cheer.

he just smirked. a slow, arrogant smile that made your stomach tighten. "just trying to figure out why you’re here," he said smoothly. "you don’t really seem like the type."

you tilted your head. “and what type is that?” irritation taking over.

he could clearly see your annoyance, which only egged him on. "the type to survive in a place like this. you seem pretty fucking simple. you wouldn’t last two minutes in a place like this sunshine."

"you think you know me?" you shot back.

"yeah." he leaned in closer to you, "i think i do. you’re just another girl trying to fit in. probably think you’re special, but you’re not."

your heart raced, "you don't know anything about me."

"lucky me. i wouldn't waste my time trying to get to know someone like you." he responded, but before he could say anymore sarah dragged you away from him.

"what a prick." you muttered to the girls.

"yeah well that's rafe for you." cleo spoke.

"rafe?" you quizzed, not knowing the name.

"rafe cameron. frat president and the asshole i unfortunately share blood with." sarah responded.

your mouth opened in shock, "that's your brother?"

"ding ding ding."

a/n: posting this so late i cannot sleep

🏷️: @heartzshiftamy @hoefordrewstarkey @luvrclub @yesterdaysproblemm @leleee3 @yktayy9669 @miumiuestmoi @anacamofficial @cokewithcameron @bloodofadoll @shorttandsweett @mysticbby2009 @emmiesummers @wintercrows @drewrry @starkeyxcameron @xxbirkindoll2 @stoned-writer @drewstarkeyslover @hannieskzzz @verycherryblossomhideout @letstryagaintomorrow @@jjsbbg7 @mariamadison6-blog @laniirackssss @xeneasworld @countryclubwhore @drewsphswife @mattyskies @moonywhisp3rs @starkeygirls @lmaolmaos @thereallifebambi @emeloyy @vcnillafairy @rafecameronswhoore @st8rkey @angeldiaryy @therealfairybatman @drewsephrry @vanessa-rafesgirl @dreamybabbyy @pogueprincesa @happy-mushrooms @hannaa20002000 

[notreallythatlost]

close to him

tfatws!bucky barnes x female!reader

summary: you and bucky share a complicated past. you tried to be together many times, but it never worked out very good. so you decided to avoid each other—but it wasn’t that easy.

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors don’t interact, smut, mention of reader dating, slight jealous!bucky, fingering, unprotected p in v, dom!bucky, & some more i think (i’m still bad in writing warnings, rip)

word count: 2.4K >

author’s note: and here i am with another tfatws bucky fic. can you blame me? i mean, he’s just… ughh, so hot. enjoy! xx

english isn’t my first language.

It was already late in the night, when you snuck back into the Avengers compound.

You tried to be as quiet as possible as you stepped into the main area and headed straight for the bar, pouring yourself a drink.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The voice made you turn around abruptly, and you placed a hand over your heart when your gaze fell on Bucky, who was sitting on the couch, one leg casually crossed over the other.

“Oh my god, Bucky. You scared the shit out of me,” you murmured, taking a sip of the whiskey—one of the most expensive ones you could take.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asked in a low voice, making you roll your eyes.

“Out. Since when do you care?” you replied, pouring another shot of whiskey into your glass.

Bucky did nothing but glare at you dangerously, and you leaned back against the counter.

“Stop looking at me like that, Barnes. Maybe try smiling a little more. Might make you look less threatening,” you said, bringing the glass back to your lips.

“You smell like cheap cologne,” Bucky growled, “Which means you were close to someone.” His words made you laugh humorlessly as you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“Well done, Sherlock. That happens sometimes… when you date,” you shot back, pushing yourself off the counter. “He was really nice, by the way. Thanks for asking.”

Bucky stood up so suddenly, you paused. He walked toward you slowly, like a predator stalking its prey, his gaze locked on yours.

“Is that so? What makes you so sure he’s good for you?” You raised your eyebrows and let out a dry snort.

“Are you serious?,” you asked, like he just made a very bad joke. “Because he makes me happy, dumbass. And with him, for the first time in a long time, I feel like it could actually work.”

Bucky clenched his jaw as you spoke, and the look in his eyes turned into something dangerous.

Something promising.

And no matter how much that look affected you, you knew it couldn’t work between you and him—it never did.

“Listen, I don’t know when you started caring for me again, Bucky. But we already tried this whole thing, and it didn’t work. Why would it be different now?”

You raised your chin as he took another step toward you, his presence intoxicating. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and it made you shiver.

You hated this.

Hated how he made you feel every single time he got close. He was like a drug you could never really get over. With those steel-blue eyes, that dark hair, and the scruff shadowing his cheeks and jaw.

“Maybe because we’re different now,” he said quietly, raising his hand and brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Another shiver ran down your spine, making you close your eyes.

“Bucky…” you whispered, opening your eyes again as you gently removed his hand from your face. “I might be different… but you’re still the same. You’ll never be able to let anyone into your heart.” With that, you walked past him. Or tried to.

“Y/N,” Bucky said, gripping your wrist and stopping you in your tracks. You closed your eyes when he softly pulled you back, his metal fingers brushing against your jaw. “Let’s try again. Let me show you how much I’ve changed.”

You wanted to believe him so badly, your heart ached. So you opened your eyes slowly, looking into his.

“I want to believe you. I really do. But I think it’s too late for us,” you breathed, pulling your hand free from his grip. “I hope you find a way to let someone in one day. That’s my biggest wish for you.”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond. Because if you had, you weren’t sure what would happen next. “Please don’t come after me.”

And with that, you left him standing there.

. ⊹*ﾟ･ﾟ｡. ⭑.*｡･ﾟ⊹*.

With a heavy breath, you leaned your back against the closed door of your room and ran your hands through your hair.

In that second, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out and saw a new message from your date.

That was nice. Wanna meet again? I have a good feeling about this.

Another message followed.

About us.

You let your head fall back against the door with a soft thud and pressed your phone to your chest. You wanted to see him again. He was sweet, loving—a real gentleman.

He made you feel good. And you knew he’d treat you like a princess. Just the way you always wanted to be treated.

But then you thought about Bucky… and how he made you feel in every other way.

You remembered his hands on your body, his lips on your skin.

He was everything you’d ever dreamed of. Attractive. Dominant. And so goddamn good in bed.

And suddenly, there was a spark.

A spark of hope that maybe, if you couldn’t get inside his heart, you could save him from whatever he was so afraid of.

And that maybe… just maybe, he was finally ready to let you in.

Your phone landed on the bed as another message popped up but you were already at the door.

As you opened it, you froze.

Bucky stood in front of you.

He had followed you—even though you’d told him not to. His chest rose and fell heavily, his gaze locked on you.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he didn’t let you.

“I know what you want to say,” he said, voice low. “But I can’t stay away from you any longer. This whole thing, staying away from each other… it was a bad idea.”

And there it was again.

That spark.

You wanted to stay away from him. Wanted to hate him. But here you were, seconds from going insane if you had to be without him any longer.

He was like a magnet, pulling you to him. And no matter how hard you tried to fight against it, the stronger became the pull.

So you did the only thing that made sense.

You fisted your hands in his shirt, pulled him down to you, and pressed your lips against his.

It caught him off guard—he stumbled forward, returning the kiss as his hands cupped your face.

He kissed you until you lost all sense of reality, his tongue gently gliding against yours.

“I saw you,” he murmured when he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. You furrowed your brows, about to ask what he meant. But again, he didn’t let you.

“I was outside. Watching you with that guy. And when I saw how happy you looked… I knew. Knew it should be me making you laugh like that. Making you smile like that.”

His lips touched your forehead. Soft. Tender. Loving. You shuddered as he gently pushed you back into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

Your breath hitched as his words echoed in your ears, and you let him guide you further inside.

“Bucky,” you whispered but he didn’t stop.

“I know… maybe it’s already too late for us,” he breathed. “But I need you to say it again. Say it and I’ll leave. I’ll never touch you again. Not even if you beg me.”

You closed your eyes, swallowing hard. He was ready to let you go, even though he wanted to be with you. He would let you walk away—just so you could be happy.

Even if it meant being with another man.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you opened your eyes again. You had already made your decision.

“I don’t want anyone else. I just want you,” you whispered and kissed him again.

Bucky returned the kiss but only for a moment, before pulling back. Your breathing was heavy as your eyes met his, and suddenly you saw it.

That dangerous spark—the one that said he was ready to claim what had always been his.

It happened so fast, you didn’t even have time to react before your back hit the wall behind you.

His hands gripped your blouse, tugging hard and ripping it open. Buttons scattered across the floor, and the fabric followed soon after. His lips were on your skin, kissing you like he was addicted.

You closed your eyes, your head falling back against the wall, while his touch sent delicious shivers down your spine.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed against your skin, making you smile.

Your fingers threaded through his dark hair and he hummed, satisfied. His hands slid to your back, unclasping your bra and tossing it aside without hesitation.

Just as he leaned in to kiss your newly exposed skin, you stopped him with your palms pressed against his chest, gently pushing him back.

“That’s not fair,” you murmured, biting your bottom lip, your hands slowly traveling downward. “You’re still dressed like you could leave any second.”

Bucky’s breath hitched, a shiver running through him, and you smiled again.

But just as your fingers brushed over his stomach, he grabbed your wrist, pinning you against the wall with the weight of his body.

“Sorry, doll. Not tonight.” His voice was a low growl, and you didn’t even have time to protest.

His head dipped down, his mouth closing around your nipple, sucking hard, until a whimper escaped your lips. Heat began to build deep in your stomach, spreading like a wildfire, consuming every clear thought in your mind.

Then, without warning, he pulled away.

His hands slid under your thighs and lifted you effortlessly, pressing you back against the wall as he captured your lips in a kiss that left you breathless. A moan escaped you, swallowed instantly by his mouth.

“Bucky—” you gasped as he turned from the wall, never breaking the kiss, and carried you to the bed where he laid you down gently on the mattress.

His fingers found the button of your pants, undoing them and sliding them down your legs. You watched him, biting your lip, until you were left wearing only your panties.

Still fully clothed, Bucky leaned over your body, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. A soft gasp left your lips as his cool vibranium fingers brushed against your ankle.

The shiver that ran through you was intense as his hand slid higher, to where you needed him the most. The moment he touched you there with the metal, you moaned desperately.

He wanted to switch hands—but you stopped him, your palm pressing against the vibranium.

“No… I want you. All of you,” you whispered, and his eyes widened slightly.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice uncertain.

“I’ve never been more sure.”

You took his hand and guided it back between your legs. He kissed you again—softly this time—before gripping your panties and ripping them off your body in one movement.

His fingers glided through your wetness and you moaned, your legs falling open for him, giving him better access.

Bucky looked up at you as he slowly pushed one metal finger inside, making you clench around him instantly.

You whimpered, arching into his touch, desperate for more.

“God, you have no idea how hard it is not to fuck you right now.” His words made you tremble.

“Then why are you holding back?” you challenged, breathless.

He growled low in his throat and suddenly his hand was gone, leaving behind a pulse of need.

Bucky pulled his shirt over his head, baring his chest to you, and you couldn’t look away. His jeans followed, then his boxers—he was already rock hard, and it made your whole body ache.

He didn’t let you wait.

Grabbing your ankles, he pulled you closer until you were directly in front of him—naked and completely at his mercy.

You watched, breath caught in your throat, as he fisted his cock, gave it a few slow strokes, and lined himself up with your entrance.

Then, without warning, he thrusted inside.

You cried out, your eyes squeezing shut.

But Bucky didn’t stop until he was buried to the hilt. “You’re so tight,” he hissed through gritted teeth, starting to move. Slowly at first.

Another moan escaped your lips, loud, and he covered your mouth with his hand. “Shhh, doll. Or do you want the others to hear you?” he murmured.

But you didn’t care anymore.

You pushed yourself up and flipped him over, straddling him. He twitched deep inside you as you leaned over him, your mouth close to his ear.

“You should be careful,” you whispered. “In the end, it’s you they’ll hear.” Then you began to move your hips slowly, and both of you moaned.

He felt so good, and you wanted this to end never.

“Fuck, doll. You are so perfect.”

His voice was full of desire as his fingers dug into your thighs—firm enough to leave bruises, but not that it hurt.

“God, Bucky—” you moaned, tossing your head back as you moved faster.

Suddenly, you were underneath him again, with your hands pinned above your head.

“As much as I love seeing you ride my cock,” he growled, “I prefer you down here.”

You whimpered, too lost in the moment to form words. Then he kissed you again and began to move. Harder, faster. It was too much, and not enough.

He brought you right to the edge. Exactly where he wanted you.

“Bucky—please…I can’t—”

You squeezed your eyes shut as the pleasure built, threatening to overwhelm you.

“Cum for me, doll,” he moaned into your ear.

And you did.

With a scream of his name, you shattered beneath him, the orgasm crashing over you and making you see stars behind your closed eyes.

Bucky didn’t stop. He fucked you through your high, chasing his own release, and moments later, he came too, spilling into you with a deep, broken groan.

Your bodies trembled, sweat clinging to your skin. His forehead pressed to yours, your breaths mingled as you tried to come down together.

“That was…” you began, but he silenced you with a kiss.

“That wasn’t everything at all,” he murmured. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on, doll.” You whimpered as he slowly pulled out of you. “I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

And as he crawled down your body, his eyes locked with yours, you knew that you wanted nothing more than to be close to him.

𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒, 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. 𑣲

© 2025 notreallythatlost

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taglist: @mandoalorian // @houseofaegon

[if you want to join my bucky taglist, please let me know <3]

[cybrasigilism]

Three’s Company (Thanos/Choi Su-bong + Nam-gyu X Reader Drabble)

warnings: smut and all things of the like | not proofread | lowercase intended | threesome | degradation | oral (m! receiving) | marking kink | orgasm control | voyeurism | these are my interpretations of these characters, please be respectful even if my opinions on the characters differ from your own

characters: thanos/choi su-bong (player 230), nam-gyu (player 124)

A/N: wanted to do a thanos/nam-gyu threesome thing that isnt just doublepen bc i’m lowkey tired. gotta love these maniacs though. THIS IS A DRABBLE WRITTEN IN POINT FORM/HEADCANON FORMAT FYI

MDNI! 18+ content below the cut, readers discretion is advised

➣ if these two are both fucking you, it usually involves you sucking thanos’s dick while nam-gyu plays with your pussy. the positioning is interchangeable, however if it’s nam-gyu’s dick you’ve got between your lips, trust he will have a firm hold on your head as he fucks your face.

➣ these two are big on voyeurism, typically it’s thanos fucking you while nam-gyu watches. however, thanos will happily sit back and watch as you ride his best friend

➣ while you give thanos head, nam-gyu will not be letting you cum unless you beg for it. he’s gonna be a complete asshole about it too, and you can bet that thanos will play along

“so rude, talking with your mouth full.. you need to teach your bitch some manners before she can cum on my fingers”

“ y’ gotta speak up señorita, we can’t understand you like this-“

➣ during foreplay, you can expect to be sandwiched between them. these two will also be equally fiending for your attention, picture something like nam-gyu kissing your neck as he gropes your tits through your shirt, all while you make out with thanos as he grabs your ass

➣ sometimes when thanos has you bent over, nam-gyu will taunt you from the front. kissing you, biting your bottom lip, leaving hickeys where he can on your neck, you name it he’s doing whatever he can to make sure you don’t put all of your attention on thanos

➣ they both love when you make out with one of them while you ride the other one’s face

➣ whether its nam-gyu or thanos plowing you, you can bet you’re leaving with bite marks all over your neck, tits, stomach, thighs and occasionally your ass

➣ will degrade you to each other, or even just in general

“shit, you told me she was a slut but i didn’t think it was this bad”

“fuck, you love when we use you like the cheap bitch you are, don’t you—“

“bet she was thinking of doing this all day huh, the pathetic little whore.” “better fuck her ‘till she can’t think about anything else then, if she wants to be so dirty minded”

➣ the aftercare is in fact a cuddle-pile, why do you ask? typically only after a particularly rough session though

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

i had way too much fun with this i fear, its been an idea brewing in my noggin for a minute now so i’m hoping you guys enjoy, even if it isn’t a request!

as always, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a great night/day lovelies 💋

tags: @kouzih @gongyoosgf @strangelife122 @gabbystinks @kvstjwonnie @pink-apples001 @fiicalapsiholoaga

[jaeminvore]

Young God | L.DH (M)

SYNOPSIS: desperation had this funny way of skewing one’s perception, and since you were, in fact, way past the point of desperation, it wasn’t a surprise that you jumped the gun without even questioning the absurdly cheap rent price of the seemingly perfect apartment unit. What you failed to consider was the reason why it didn't cost you and arm and a legand it soon came in the form of an incubus in your bathroom belting his heart out on a Sunday morning.

(alternatively: in which you were essentially scammed into cohabiting with a ridiculously clingy demon that lives off of sex. It could be worse. At least he staved off from sucking your soul out in exchange of you sucking something else—among other things).

GENRE: supernatural, urban fantasy, college au, slice of life, humor, rom-com, crack treated seriously, fluff, smut (full warnings under the cut! Please read them).

WORD COUNT: 35K

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. incubus!hyuck, afab!human!reader, mild horror elements, mild blood and gore, crude language and jokes, some lore sprinkled here and there, none of these people have brain-to-mouth filters, bickering (as a love language or foreplay. you decide), egregious use of the em dash, cooking as a love language, wet dreams, dry-humping, handjobs, oral sex, face-fucking, masturbation, Jaemin, mild allusions to exhibitionism, mentions of edging, squirting, mc gets a little roughed up by another demon, hyuck kills said demon (as he should). unprotected sex (please practice safe sex unlike these two), creampie, tentacles (LISTEN. it’s not that bad I promise! They’re more like glorified ropes made of smoke if anything, but if you’re uncomfy with the idea but still want to read until the end, the passage starts at “Oh that feels weird” and ends with “You weren’t lying when you said you could take it,”)

NOTE: i fought hyuck-shaped demons writing this fic so please please pleaseeee lemme know what you think! do not let the warnings fool you, this is actually cuter and funnier than it should be despite the sexual undertones lmao 😭 All this came to life from pure self-indulgence and some of the dialogues that startled me awake on most of my nights lol.

PLAYLIST: Young God by Halsey — Eyes Roll by (G)I-DLE — Pretzel (♡) by NCT Dream — Galipette (BIBI Remix) by Lolo Zouaï and BIBI — Sunshine Of Your Love by Cream —Tastes So Good — Sabrina Claudio

“I’m the king of everything and oh my tongue is a weapon. There’s a light in the crack that’s separating your thighs and if you wanna go to heaven, you should fuck me tonight.” — Young God by Halsey

I.

The first red flag you should have picked up on was the ridiculously cheap rent price.

Which, given the circumstances, was almost unheard of in the current hellish state of the economy and being part of the lower income bracket. Safe to say you were this close to ripping your own hair out when you were notified of your rent’s increase in price. You could barely afford it and you sure as hell won't be able to now.

Life simply picked its favorites and it was unfortunate that you weren’t part of the silver-spooned minority playing the life game on ‘very easy’ mode. Thus began a very desperate search for a place. A dorm? Apartment? Bed-space? Literally anything. Hell, you’d even consider coach-surfing! You weren’t picky, and you sure as Hell weren’t in the position to demand even an ounce of luxury anyway.

So long as you had a roof above your head, you’d take anything.

Though it seemed that the level of desperation rolling off of you in waves was enough to take some sort of effect.

You had no clue what exactly you should call it (divine intervention?), but perhaps there was little power from projecting your urgency along with the rest of the piled up negativity onto the world to the point it pitied you; listened to your misery that a few days later, right when you were on the precipice of calling it quits and leaving your life in the hands of God, a miracle disguised as one of your classmates for an elective brought up a fairly recent vacancy from her apartment complex.

“If it’s anything like the unit Chaewon and I have, I think you’ll like it.” Yunjin reassured, smiling down at you from her perch on the desk. “Plus, it would be nice to have a familiar face around.”

Worrying about whether the place would fit your tastes or not was the last thing on your mind when you were a breath away from filing bankruptcy (could you even afford that?). It had come to a point where you’d be open to anything that all inhibitions and the ever present skepticism you’d usually have hanging around your head were promptly thrown out of the window because:

Huh Yunjin was not only a classmate, but also a friend.

Biases were a thing, so anything Yunjin said was deemed credible on all accounts by you.

You. Were. Desperate. Did you mention that?

And—look, desperation does funny things to your mind. Skewing your perception, for example, or maybe it was a thing exclusive to you because who lets themselves be labeled as ‘colorblind’ (theoretically) after mistaking firetruck red from verdant green?

The answer: you, duh. Though in your defense, promising anyone with a price that affordable would immediately have them fold, never mind the possible consequences that could follow.

Humans were fickle. Humans were simple as they were complex. Temptation came easiest to those who were in a near hopeless state, and you were very human to your core, stepping out of the lecture hall with Yunjin’s landlord’s phone number saved to your list of contacts, feeling heaps lighter than you did this morning.

Statistics showed that it was less likely for women to be colorblind.

It was also said that women were able to identify more colors than men, so it was quite telling that you’ve managed to consistently ignore every single glaring red-flag so far. Might as well be part of the statistics if this keeps up. Theoretically speaking.

(Family history made it impossible for you to have it. Your recognition of colors was no less than perfect. It was just a ‘you’ problem. Not to mention the non-existent survival instinct).

Though, there were some details that really made you think. And by some, you meant your landlord—correction, landlady, as Ms. Hong chided over the phone.

Ms. Hong was a woman well in her mid forties with a taste for anything glamorous. Slender fingers adorned with rings made of gold and wrists chained with the same metal among a few silver glimmering pieces. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary when polite greetings weaved seamlessly into pleasant small-talk, lasting long enough until you brought up the newly available apartment unit. Things took an odd turn then, with Ms. Hong skirting around, hesitant and vague when it came to answering your questions about the apartment.

It was all sorts of strange, now that you thought about it. Unlike Ms. Hong, your previous landlords had the tendency to overcompensate for the lackluster charm of their apartments. Promising to improve whatever that needed to be improved and then downplaying all the current issues that could have been classified as a health violation. All for the sake of milking you dry of your savings.

On that note, you couldn’t exactly tell if Ms. Hong even wanted to rent out the unit or not. You were no stranger to money-hungry landlords who would jump at the opportunity, yet the older woman’s tone was rather gravely when she listed down the possible expenses. Her lack of enthusiasm was becoming a bit too disconcerting, to say the least, that you had to cut her off from her tangent as soon as you felt the agitation creep up, emphasizing how this was a matter of life and death for you.

Begging would have been your last trump card if the landlady didn’t budge, but it seemed that the trembling in your voice finally shook her out of whatever bizarre headspace she was in that the sudden emergence of charisma that could belong to a representative trying to scam you into joining a pyramid scheme was strangely comforting.

That was another thing that flew over your head: the complete 180 in demeanor, completely blinded by Ms. Hong’s eagerness having you view the unit at your earliest convenience. 

Ten AM on Sunday morning.

That was your earliest convenience. Also your day-off and the one of many chances spent rotting away on an equally rotting mattress. It was a way to relax, but if it meant you’d be (hopefully) parting ways with your current shitty apartment and the shitty mattress that came with it, then by all means you could forget pretending to not exist for a few hours.

Though you couldn’t say you were optimistic. With your renting history, optimism had no room in your life when all you were left with was disappointment from the barely decent rooms you’ve been in and for sure, Ms. Hong would do just the same. It really wouldn’t be the first time. Certainly wouldn’t be the last either. 

But by some unexplained miracle, the outcome was quite the contrary, actually, and for the first time in your adult life, you were starting to see the light at the end of the longest tunnel you have ever been in.

Citrus and vanilla.

That particular scent was what greeted you first as you stepped into the unit which was already a thousand times better than what horrors you were used to and you thought it fit the earthy palette of cream, beige and green. The most surprising thing was that the unit looked to be fully furnished right from the kitchen to the bedroom and lord—the mattress was actually so comfortable that it took a lot of your self-control and the reminder of your (future) landlady waiting to not actually fall asleep.

But it wouldn’t hurt to indulge yourself a little, now would it?

Rolling over, you press your face into the linen sheets, humming in delight at the pleasant waft of freshly dried laundry. It smelt like home, It felt like home and you would definitely regret passing up the opportunity of moving here.

Years of hopping from one place to another, you never had the chance to feel at home. Not when your mind was a permanent whirlwind of worries that just didn’t seem to end no matter how much you tried to deal with them. It hasn’t entirely stopped, but you liked to think you were getting better at keeping them at bay.

One thing that caught your interest was that the sweet and tangy scent was particularly strong here. It wasn’t unpleasant, but a little overwhelming, wrinkling your nose at the intensity of vanilla. Then came the strong urge to look to your right and there you saw a candle in a glass jar burning away on the end table.

Huh, you never noticed that on your way in.

Ms. Hong sure knew how to give a warm welcome, a scented candle of all things. Although you weren’t exactly a fan of the smokey smell that would later stick to your hair and clothes, you appreciated the small gesture nonetheless. And sweet as it was, you were more cautious than to prolong your gratitude.

Risking the possibility of burning the entire unit before you could even sign the lease was the last thing you wanted and without thinking, you blew the flame out.

There was no time to doubt. This was—”everything I’ve been looking for.”

Ms. Hong blinked as you emerged from the inside.

“I’ll take it, but are you serious about the price? It’s fully furnished. Decorated beautifully too.”

All the cool nonchalance the woman displayed prior disappeared in an instant, standing tall and stiff as you watched her open and close her mouth before settling on a croaky, “come again?”

The reaction was strange, but you answered anyway. “It’s fully furnished,” you repeated. “Wouldn’t that, like, increase my rent?”

“What do you—what does it look like in there?”

“Something close to what you’d see on Architectural Digest,” you joked then went into detail about how everything seemed to fit the Pinterest board you’ve made—affectionately named ‘home <3’—and kept on updating since freshman year. It was a little eerie, now that you think about it. How the unit was catered specifically to your tastes.

It was comfortable and cozy. Cozy in a way that screamed slow Sundays of melting your brain with soap operas and endless looping of your daily music playlist to your heart's content. Comfortable in a sense where you wouldn’t mind being cooped up in here for hours on end.

Like you’ve said, it was no doubt everything you wanted in a home.

Though a part of you was a little rattled by how spooked Ms. Hong appeared. A mass of emotions crossed her face as you talked until her expression flattened into something unreadable, remaining tense with her posture despite the smile pulling at the corners of her full mouth.

“Are you okay, Ms. Hong?” You asked anyway. You figured it would give you brownie points, showing a little bit of concern. There could be some advantages to being the favorite tenant.

“Yes, yes!” She waved you off. “Nothing to worry about. I was just a little nervous that you wouldn’t like the place. Clearly, I thought wrong.” Ms. Hong laughed, maybe a little forced, but your spirits were too high for you to overthink it. 

“Honestly? I wasn’t expecting much, but I love it! I would move in today if I could, but I still have to pack.” Not that you had much to begin with when the apartment had what you needed, furniture wise, but you still had your personal belongings and it was close to sunset too.

Ms. Hong nodded solemnly, tilting her head and appearing thoughtful. “Good… good. And you’re absolutely certain that you want to move in?”

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

Going the poetic route seemed to be enough for Ms. Hong, wasting no time guiding you into her office to take care of the paperwork. The price remained the same, even with your insistence of increasing it for the sake of fairness, but your landlady (for real this time!) wasn’t having it and silently handed over the keys with a keychain where ‘66’ was inscribed on the golden plate, matching what was drilled into the paneled door.

You still couldn’t believe it, really. That you’ve managed to score a charming place within your price range and if the mixture of happiness and relief wasn’t already obvious enough from your cheek-aching smile alone, Ms. Hong didn’t dare comment on it, other than the amused huff she let out, watching you shake in anticipation.

Excitement was a rare emotion to feel these days, not when the weight of college and your part-time job rested on your shoulders, and maybe it was that very reason why the said excitement easily seeped into the questions your landlady had the patience to answer. You’ve never felt this light in a long time and something about the twinkle in Ms. Hong’s eyes said that she understood just as much.

However, the sentiment soon faded as quick as it came; you would have missed it if it weren’t for Ms. Hong calling out your name.

“Do me a favor, would you, honey?”

“Sure,” You looked over your shoulder, gaze inquisitive as the door handle twisted. The woman’s face was drawn into something serious, hands folded properly on her desk. “What is it?”

“Be careful.”

You would have laughed if it weren’t for the intensity in her eyes, and with how she spoke, it left no openings for a light joke. Two words that should have been taken at face value felt like there was more to it. You just didn’t know what.

Perhaps it was a customary thing. A reminder to each of her tenants to not cause trouble for her or anyone? Yeah, that could be it.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Third time was definitely not the charm because how could you miss another clear warning? Ms. Hong’s nails were red too for fuck’s sake! That should have counted for something!

In your defense, with how well the first week was in apartment 66, no one could blame the carefree attitude now that you had a place that was safe and didn’t check every health violation by the book. Inviting friends over was easier, now that you didn’t have to feel sorry for yourself and your visitors for subjecting them to lounge in a barely habitable space.

Yunjin seemed very proud of herself, being the very reason why you were even here in the first place and she truly deserved the extra volume of wine poured into her glass, much to Chaewon’s chagrin. She quickly perked up when you offered her a variety of sweet treats you got on sale, thanking you with a smile just as sweet.

It felt liberating to come home to a place that exuded the warmth you needed right after a long, grueling day of academics, tutoring sessions and your shift at the hotpot restaurant a few blocks away from campus.

Other than your bed, the couch was another place where you’d occasionally try your very hardest to melt into and not think about your existence. If you wanted to be more productive, the small balcony you transformed into a mini nursery for herbs and smaller fruits and vegetables was there to keep you busy. The little gardening hobby went hand-in-hand with the nice kitchen. You finally had enough space to dance around amidst the prepping and cooking you had to do.

You were, quite literally, living the life.

Life has never tasted so sweet and it took only a week at most to make it look like you had your life together; as if you were one of those people on Tiktok who seemingly had their lives figured out based on their minute-long vlogs.

However, there was clearly a time limit to your peace, it being violently ripped away from you as the second week came around. Then did you start experiencing… things.

Strange things, to be exact and it took a lot to scare you.

There were a multitude of things to be frightened of for sure, but you were someone who’d been able to grow some resistance to them as you got older; thought that it’d be a waste to grow wary of the things that would normally creep people out, living alone. It wasn’t in your nature. Not when you miraculously survived being on your own so far, so what was left for you to be scared of?

That was what past-you would have said but for some reason, the world had this unwavering fixation on going against whatever you stood for because this current situation was an entirely different ballpark. 

And not finding any scientific explanation to back up the sudden disturbance in apartment 66 was what scared you. 

Sure, the smart thing was to raise it as a concern to your landlady, but when it came to weighing your options, you didn’t think the gripes and concerns for the place would be serious enough to be a problem for Ms. Hong to solve. Especially when it wasn’t exactly a maintenance issue.

Let’s be real here, do you think Ms. Hong would be able to do something about the things that go bump in the night? No. You wouldn’t think so. Unless she was able to shapeshift into a cat, going after the rat behind all the thudding, creaking and annoying scratching that woke you up in the middle of the night.

(You realized how utterly insane that train of thought sounded, so that was immediately scratched off. Shapeshifting? Really? That’s one way of letting someone assume you were high on something).

Normally, these hiccups were menial enough to ignore, rolling over to the cooler side of bed and quickly knocking out. Being a nightly problem? It’s a miracle you hadn’t torn down the dry walls yourself to look for the rats and deal with them. Only, you didn’t think the little critters were capable of producing such loud footsteps.

And that wasn’t even the last of it.

Things disappearing and then reappearing at the weirdest of places—house keys in the toilet sink, phone in the microwave and, mortifyingly enough, panties in the cupboards, to which has happened on multiple occasions, leaving you more irritated than scared, actually.

(There were some times where it had been useful though. Like when you were running late to first period and, lo and behold, your house keys and phone were waiting for you on the little nook just beside the door. Or having a fresh pair of socks laid out innocently next to your sneakers. Little things for your convenience for sure that it warranted a hesitantly muttered ‘thank you’ to the air despite being freaked out).

On the same note as ‘things going bump and scratch in the night’, hearing voices became a regular thing, too. There should be a joke written in there somewhere. How it was just your inner monologue increasing volume each night from the stress, but the disembodied voice said otherwise and you knew damn well your daily monologue did not comprise creative threats to your life and soul.

Hearing voices meant that there was, possibly, something else festering in the four walls of your home.

You didn’t feel as alone anymore, and that wasn’t you being all sappy or poetic. You could actually sense that there was an unspecified presence lurking in the shadows of apartment 66, like you were being watched. You could’ve sworn you’ve seen movement from your peripheral too, but for once, from what little remnants of survival instinct you had, you refused to fuck around and find out.

Those were damning signs that told you to leave. Anyone in their right mind would simply book it the soonest they could. And perhaps you had a few loose screws up there, because no one considered normal would manage through all the disturbances, and Hell if you were the one moving out. You fell in love with the place and the hauntings won’t ever change that.

Hauntings. God. You’ve truly lost it. What’s next, a 2023 remake of Casper The Friendly (?) Ghost? Could be. You were still very much alive and that could count as a ‘friendly’ gesture, ignoring the piling grievances.

But then you started having these dreams and you could guarantee that nothing was remotely friendly about what your brain routinely conjured during your slumber: the same dream over and over again.

Same bedroom setting. Same faceless man—seemingly made out of shadows—hovering over you, his weight keeping you from doing anything but squirm each time he leaned in close, whispering—hissing filthy promises as threats of eating you alive after swallowing your soul soon to be damned in Hell with each bite of his words.

And tonight wasn’t any different.

“Not resisting anymore, are you?”

Wait.

That’s new. Not the whole talking thing because the one thing that remained consistent was that this… entity couldn’t for the life of him shut the fuck up, nor could you smother him into silence yourself, minding the Herculean strength he exhibited in having you pinned down.

No, but his voice had character, now that the disembodied filter he had on the majority of the time was absent, leaving you to bask in the high, airy-smooth voice that would have been considered sweet if it weren’t for the fact that its owner showed otherwise through his actions.

How can I when I can’t fucking move? Was what you wanted to say, but it came out as a strangled mess of noises.

It’s always been a gamble. Your dreams, that is and you could never tell which bodily function you could lose in them. Tonight, you were certain that you could neither talk nor move, much to the figure’s absolute delight and this whole thing kind of painted him as your designated sleep paralysis demon.

The demon (maybe) nuzzled into the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply. “You smell delicious.” You could feel him shudder in anticipation, breath hot against your skin from the shaky exhale as he pulled back to stare you down. Or at least you think he did. You couldn’t tell. Other than the twin ruby red glow from where his eyes would have been, his entirety was bathed in absolute darkness.

“Interesting little thing, you are,” he crooned, “usually, any other human would be out the door the moment they could sense me. They’re so easy to scare, humans.” An icy chill ran down your spine at the laugh he let out. Deceptively soft and breathy if you weren’t reminded of your position—this thing straight out of nightmares being bracketed by your thighs. This was all so fucked.

Something akin to a purr rumbled from within him, pleased at the fact that you couldn’t do anything but lay there, unmoving. “You, on the other hand, stayed. Longer than what I had initially expected and lucky for you, I’m beginning to like having you around.”

Cool. So he liked you. Cool. Great. Amazing even.

What the fuck did that even mean?

Were you supposed to be relieved by that? Because it was the last thing you should be feeling in this compromising position. Which then begged the question: did it mean you get to live to see another day? You’d hope so because dying in your dream and inevitably IRL would fucking suck. You haven’t even stayed for that long and your death would be such a waste of money, really.

There it was again. Citrus and vanilla.

Now that you thought about it, this particular aroma was always present. Muted on some days, like a barely there trace of day-old perfume on clothes, and not so pleasant on others, including tonight—strong as this demon (surely) leaned further into your space. Hips pushed down, down, down with purpose as the sickeningly sweet scent increased in intensity, like he was using it to break your resolve, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

His determination didn’t seem to wane in the slightest from your display of stubbornness, only spurring him on further as his large, warm palms settled on your waist, giving an appreciative squeeze. As if fascinated by how solid you felt in his grip. You, however, were absolutely terrified of how solid he was. How this felt so real that you couldn’t stand being underneath the blood-red glare of his eyes.

The demon let out a huff of amusement the moment you screwed your eyes shut.

All of this was just a dream. A sick twisted dream—a nightmare. Soon as you get yourself to wake up, he’ll be gone. You’ll be free.

“Is it?” He tittered, “a dream? I don’t know, this feels all too real to me, human. Surely you can feel this?” You gasped. Shit. He had claws, digging into the soft skin of your waist. Apply more pressure and you were sure he’d end up breaking through the flesh and leave you bleeding to your very death.

He leaned in closer. Not like he was already too close for comfort before. “Feel me?”

Oh, fuck.

It’s like a sick fucking joke, really. The fact that the time where you truly had a grasp on your vocal chords, you let out the first sound of the night: a moan—followed by a continuous string of them prompted by the thick and hot something pressing incessantly against your crotch with each roll of his hips.

“There we go,” he drawled, lips brushing against the little space underneath the hinge of your jaw, your pulse at its strongest. “You were easier to play with in all your other dreams before, but it’s not like I don’t enjoy a bit of a challenge from a stubborn little thing like you. Let’s see what other sounds you can make, yes?”

He was dead set on pulling them out of you, too, settling on a rhythm that would let his length—straining against what you could assume was skin-tight boxer briefs—drag over your clit covered by thin cotton panties. He made use of his hands too; leaving warm trails of his touch along your skin, like he was leaving traces of himself, branding you his.

It was maddening, to say the least. That even in your dreams, you were still able to feel the rush of pleasure in its purest form thrumming underneath your skin just begging to be let out.

And if that wasn’t enough to wind you up, the same pair of hands curiously traced the bottom hem of your camisole before pushing it up, up, up and exposing your chest to your audience of one. He lets out this satisfied sound, a groan almost and tapering off into gentle cooing; gentle as his hands were in fondling your tits.

If you could move, then the smack he would have gotten from you was well deserved. Men were so easy. Show them your boobs and it’s pretty much all they care about until you stray their attention elsewhere. His dutifully remained on your heaving chest, however, and if you could see, you were sure he would be licking his lips, satisfied with himself as he bent his head.

Holy shit. You were going to die. You were going to be eaten, and then die.

The cry you let out was enough proof that you finally finally had gotten control of your voice; crying out from the sensation of impossibly sharp rows of teeth nibbling on your right nipple, already sensitive from the demon’s tongue laving around the bud. Taking it entirely in between unimaginably soft lips and suckling harshly that your body didn’t know whether to bow against the bed so he could take in more, or pull away from all of this being too much for your senses to bear.

“Aren’t you so cute?” He cooed the moment he unlatched from your other tit, subjecting it to the same treatment and his cock still rutting slowly but firmly against your clothed slit, earning him a drawn out whine. There’s a hand wrapped around your throat now, and you gasped at the pinpricks his claws left. “You make the sweetest of sounds, darling girl.” He said this as leaned in so close that his lips brushed against yours with every syllable.

“I can’t wait ‘til your soul is mine.” and there was no mistaking it; the drag of sharp teeth just below your jaw raised goosebumps across your skin.

Panic immediately swelled in your chest just as you regained full control of your body, smacking his hands away for your fingers to tangle into his hair and push him as far as your arm would let you, heart beating so wildly that it’s a miracle it hadn’t cracked your rib cage. Oh well, small miracles and whatnot.

It looked like he wasn’t at all expecting you to fight back. You thought so too, with his overpowering scent almost lulling you into compliance and, again, the unimaginable strength he had keeping you in place. Catching him off-guard was the smartest thing you’ve done so far into halting the all-consuming dreams—nightmares that all he did was stay still and it’s exactly what you needed.

“Get out!”

You woke up with a sharp intake of breath.

Your hand was still up in the air, fist clenched and arguably at the same height where it was originally resting stiffly on top of the entity’s head. Knees the same as they were before; bent and parted wide enough to accommodate his figure, and let’s not forget your ‘tits out’ situation because your tits, were in fact, still out. How vivid was that dream exactly?

The entirety of your room didn’t look out of place, minus the duvet, thankfully. Probably got kicked down from how you struggled in the nightmare. It was a rather chilly night—the slow beginnings of autumn, so you pulled it back up (right after you fixed your camisole) and settled comfortably underneath the softness of the covers for the second time of the night.

Your eyes slipped close.

“Oh? Going back to sleep already? How rude!”

Your eyes immediately snapped open.

What the fuck.

Nothing could have prepared you from finding a fully grown man sat like a fucking gargoyle at the foot of your bed. Knees bent with his hands right in between them, clutching the cotton tightly in between his fingers, judging by how his grip pulled onto your duvet. You pulled on it too, not willing to expose yourself at this time, and just because you were still petty enough in your sleepy state. You were cold, dammit.

No words were exchanged. No one moved either, but you did spend a long time just sizing each other up as if daring the other to do something. It was still too dark for you to make out his features, the only source of light being the full moon at its brightest which wasn’t much of help.

The thing tilted his head. “Hi!”

You were too tired for this. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“No, wait!” It took everything to not scream bloody murder when he hastily crawled towards the space beside you and sat on his calves, “I’m a demon.”

What? Like that made any difference.

“This is a dream.” It’s got to be because there was no way the man in your dreams was able to materialize right in front of you, claiming he was one of Hell’s spawn. He sounded like him, hell, he smelt like him, but the sheer ridiculousness of the turn of events made it a little hard for you to believe that this isn’t just a tamer, sleep-induced hallucination.

“No it’s not!”

You stared at him with narrowed eyes. Is it just you, or did he sound… whiny? Anyway, “yes, it is.” You groped around before grasping onto your stuffed bear’s limbs. If he doesn’t shut up right now then you’ll do it yourself.

Again, too dark to see his face, but you can just tell he was scowling. “Says who?”

“Me. Goodbye!” And you smacked him in the face with the stuffed toy so hard that he ended up toppling off of your bed with startled yelp. Your eyes slipped close again, pleased.

What a weird fucking dream.

II.

There was someone in your home.

In the bathroom, to be specific.

The trip to the morning farmer’s market didn’t even take that long. Thirty minutes at most to get what you needed for a hearty meal, and yet it was enough for someone to break in, apparently (in broad daylight too! Do people have no shame?) So much for living in one of the safest parts of the city. The advertisements were total bullshit.

Though, you actually weren’t sure if this was better. That it was something or someone tangible disrupting the peace and not the occasional, domineering presence you’ve grown used to. You had to admit, it was kind of funny that hogging the shower was next on their agenda after trespassing. Usually, it was followed by either burglary or first degree murder, but hey, who were you to judge?

It didn’t look like they’ll be out any time soon. What with the passionate rendition of Michael Jackson’s (may his soul rest in peace) ‘Rock With You’—complete with adlibs and all—you’d be lucky if they chose to stay in there and raise your water bill up to immeasurable heights.

At least a bunch of knives stuck to a magnetic rack was within reach if all goes to shit, but you still hoped that you wouldn’t have to draw blood first.

Leaving the stew to boil, you plopped onto the couch with as much grace as a newborn giraffe, sitting in a way where you directly faced the bathroom in case of the possible brawl you might push yourself into due to your lack of survival instincts, apparently.

Yet even with the forewarning, you weren’t exactly prepared to face who or what was on the other side of the bathroom door.

Your breath hitched at the sound of the door unlocking, followed by the click of the light switch and, for some reason, you had your gaze set resolutely at the bottom half of the door. The door opened and a tan leg popped out, and then another and—Jesus, how long do these legs go? Seriously, it should be illegal to have legs as long as that, having felt as if your eyes scanned like… miles upon miles of tan—

Right. This was an intruder in your home.

A man to be exact, and he had the gall to mirror your own shell-shocked face as if you were the one who broke in.

Though, you couldn’t deny that he was gorgeous. Inhumanly so as you took a closer look at his face. Sun-kissed all over as if the big ball of fire in the sky decided it wanted a human counterpart. Waves of dark hair fell just shy above his waterline and framing a pair of wide, darkened amber eyes (is that eyeliner?) burning with as much curiosity you had amidst your fight or flight response kicking in. He kind of fit the ‘tall, dark and mysterious’ archetype that BookTok lovers—er, loved, but there was very little mystery to be intrigued by. Not when his thoughts, feelings and intentions bled so opaquely on his face.

Amusement tilted every angle of his features, namely his sleepy eyes and heart-shaped lips. If you possessed half a brain, you would have thought he was harmless, yet the hair-raising grin that broke out on his face told you otherwise, making you bristle.

“Now where’d you run off to this early in the morning?”

You gritted your teeth, feeling a vein pulse on your temple. That voice.

Pretty privilege could be addressed next time because at this very second, you weren’t feeling privileged being graced by the so-called prettiness, but threatened to even fully appreciate what he’s got going for him. Physically wise.

Without thinking, your hand shot out to grab the closest thing to you, an empty vase, and hurled it with all you’ve got, aiming straight for the intruder’s face who didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. It was like watching everything in slow motion, how the decorative piece took its sweet time to smack his face and hopefully break his nose (best case scenario).

This was the worst case scenario, with the vase pausing in mid-air as if time just decided to stop being a thing, all in this demon’s favor.

You were actually going insane. That was the only explanation because no law of physics could explain the current state of the decorative vase—it’s still in the fucking air. Holy shit—nor did you think telekinesis could extend beyond the old, generic trick of bending spoons with your mind.

“Hey,” As if you weren’t terrified enough, the stranger peeked from one of the vase’s sides with a disapproving pout. You scooted further away until your back hit the arm rest. “I picked this out for you, y’know? Thought you’d like it.” With a lazy flick of his wrist the vase ended up floating all the way into the kitchen, much to your horror, to sit on top of the refrigerator.

“Maybe we shouldn’t throw things next time?”

Your eyes flickered towards him, dumbfounded.

“You… last night,” There really was no mistaking it. The voice already told you enough. It was all too distinct; the arrogance, the grating inflection that screamed he solely existed to get on your nerves, and it was working. “In my dream. That was you?”

“Wasn’t just last night, little human. I’ve been in all of your dreams since you moved here.” He shrugged, leaning laxly against the door frame with his arms crossed. “You were way nicer in them. Pliant,” he had two fingers up to prove whatever point he was making. “didn’t throw things at me,” and there goes the third finger.

Smoke was practically coming out of your ears as you sat up straighter, tense. “Oh, I’m sorry!” One of your hands flew to your chest, tone high and mocking. “I didn’t know I had to show proper etiquette to a fucking trespasser!” You scrambled for your phone. “Now, please leave or I will call the police—”

It happened all too fast. Too fast for your human brain to comprehend because just a second ago, you were really serious about involving the police in this. Now, you were flat on your back with the wind knocked right out of you and a lap full of the man plaguing most of your nights. The atmosphere felt heavier, now that the kittenish air surrounding him was gone and the very corner of his lips tilted down into a frown as he plucked your phone out of your hand.

“First thing’s first, no police. You won’t get rid of me that way. Second, this is my”— he pointed to himself —“home. My apartment. I was just nice enough to let you stay for how long you liked.”

“I paid for this unit you—you demon!” You didn’t even try to be subtle with the eye-rolling. Of course he would preen at the title. “If anything, it’s my apartment!”

“Okay? I tied a piece of me down to this place. My sigil is somewhere around here to prove it—meaning, I have higher authority.”

A sigil. Of course. This is your life now. Possibly sharing a space with a fucking demon of all things. Exciting, but not exciting enough to stave off your hunger and you were starting to get antsy. You were just arguing for the sake of arguing to blow off some steam and to get in the last word.

“I signed a lease. The lease has my name on it.” you said as if that was on par with whatever he was talking about (probably not).

“Technically, I signed away a part of my life, so.”

Fuck. Fine. He got you there.

“Are you always going to do this?” You resigned, wriggling underneath his weight. “You’re kinda heavy.”

“I mean, if it works, right?” The demon giggled, tilting his head with a coy smile as he put more weight onto your thighs, one hand falling behind to rest on your knee. “It’s not like you complained before.”

“Technically,” (“I do not fucking sound like that.”) “those were dreams—dreams, so they don’t count.”

Which meant that you had full control of your body out of the dreamscape, proven by the indignant yell the demon let out as he was unceremoniously pushed to the ground for the second time within the twenty-four hour time frame. It wasn’t enough to make up for the numerous times he had you under him, but for now, you were even.

“They sure do!” he exclaimed from where you left him still sprawled on the floor.

“Nope. This conversation is over.”

The stew was just about done, soup reduced to the right amount as you switched off the stove and range hood, bathing your apartment in still quietness besides the bustling from outside. The soft padding of feet came in quick succession until warmth hovered just mere centimeters behind you.

Turning your head, the demon was there, his chin just shy of resting onto the dip of your shoulder as he peered curiously at the steaming pot.

“Is that… kimchi jjigae?” he wondered, taking a generous whiff and appearing just as hungry as you felt. “It is kimchi jjigae.”

You snickered, all animosity fading into faint amusement, “I take it that you’d like some?” It was such a human reaction that you couldn’t help but smile, reaching for the ladle.

“Please?” he pressed, amber eyes all wide and imploring. “I haven’t had a decent bowl of the stuff in, like, weeks.”

“Well, make yourself useful. Set the table, yeah? And pass me two bowls while you’re at it. You know where they are…” you trailed off, looking at him in silent question. You haven’t asked for his name, or what he would like to be addressed as.

Somehow, the demon was rather quick on the uptake, curling his lips as he pushed off to do what you asked him to.

“Haechan,” he called over his shoulder, grinning as he reached for the cupboard’s handle. “You can call me Haechan.”

So.

There was someone in your home, and he was a demon sitting across from you, digging into his second helping of the kimchi jjigae you initially planned on rationing out for the entire week.

Like an actual living and breathing demon—an incubus. A demon dependent on sex, and from what you’ve heard from one of the girls utterly obsessed with the occult and anything spooky, Incubi and Succubi do, in fact, fuck to survive. A fuck or die slowly situation which earned Haechan a dubious look when he confirmed through a mouthful of pork belly.

(You weren’t too sure if you heard right when the mentioned occult-obsessed classmate later added that the human could literally go insane from the amount of life force they’d lost. Or that some incubi and succubi do it for the purpose of reproducing. Hopefully she was wrong because—well—because).

“Okay,” you let the spoon clatter into your bowl. “Okay.” you repeated in a way to soothe yourself before broaching on the topic, prompted by morbid curiosity because hello, who wouldn’t start questioning the ‘monster’ you were stuck with for an indefinite amount of time? “So! What, you fuck anyone that comes to live here?”

“Mm—one second,” he raised a finger and then swallowed. “This is really good and, well, yes and no?”

You hit him with a pointed look. “It’s either yes or no.”

“Nosy, nosy,” he tutted, heat creeping from your neck and up at the sight of his smirk. “Curious about my body count, aren’t you, sweet thing?”

“Uh,” you said intelligently, brain short-circuiting at the pet-name. “Am I allowed to be?”

Haechan beamed. “‘course! Honestly, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t. Humans are naturally curious, aren’t they? Kinda weird that you’re so calm about this though.”

He wasn’t wrong. You were the perfect picture of calm listening to him talk about his origins and any sane person would think Haechan was just talking out of his ass. It was likely due to the fact that you’ve become desensitized to most things and consequently, this was less weird than being offered cocaine right outside of campus.

“I’ve been through worse.” You shrugged and there was something absolutely hilarious about a demon of all beings expressing a mix of concern and confusion when you waved him off. “So what does ‘yes and no’ mean?” You pressed further, curious and maybe a smidge nosy.

Other than the hectic lifestyle you live, things were pretty much boring when it came to experiences outside of your academics and extracurriculars, and your part-time; the latter only holding a modicum of drama that involved teenagers and their own diluted version of pettiness and the occasional entitled ahjummas that were dead-set on making your life miserable than it already was with maintaining an absurdly high GPA to keep your scholarship. Not to mention you were barely scraping by with your savings.

Taking in Haechan and his brazen glory, you might as well live vicariously through him to feel something, right? Like one of those moms who’d force their own kid to live out their dreams. And so you were going to pry as much as he would let you. Haechan was shameless in his own way anyway, proudly so with how he was literally wearing a pair of your sleep shorts that left nothing to the imagination and a zip-up that was definitely his. You didn’t remember having one with horns attached to the hood and you wouldn't wear anything too on the nose if you were him.

(You could have sworn an ass cheek popped out when he was getting a drink from the fridge—Christ, you didn't remember the specific pair being that short—not that you were looking on purpose, no way. His thighs were literally displayed like that).

“Meaning, I don’t limit myself to just my tenant. The risk of them dying is lower that way. They get the time they need to regain the life force they lost while I go out, find a willing soul and… take what I need.” you pointedly ignored the glint of mischief in his eyes by taking a long, generous sip of your water. Haechan snorted at the loud gulp. “We’re not all evil.”

With what your dreams were made of in the past month or so, you highly doubt a singular demon would align their morals with yours. The thought was ridiculous enough on its own and apparently, it translated so well on your face—a grimace that said all that needed to be said—that Haechan had to laugh with crinkled eyes and a scrunched nose, both in which oddly made him look less of the sex-deprived creature etched into your skull, and more human.

“And I don’t really want a human’s death on my conscience. It’s in our nature, there’s no doubting that, but Hell isn’t lawless as you think it is. We have rules to follow. We still have to be kept in line and it just so happens that humans are—ah, how do I say this—precious,” he said with air quotations. “to our supreme overlord. Humans help keep Hell the way it is, and we try not to terrorize them too often.”

“Bit late on that, don’t you think?” you said dryly, being a victim of his terrorizing.

Haechan didn’t even look the least bit remorseful. “What can I say? Frustration is such a cute look on you, darling.” He cooed, a lop-sided grin stretching wide enough that a fang glinted underneath the overhead light as it caught on his lower lip. “I could just eat you up.”

“Please don’t,” You don’t even want to imagine the damage his piercing canines could do. “I’m not really into vore.”

Haechan giggled, resting his cheek onto an open palm. “You’re so funny.”

“Um!” you were beginning to feel like you’ve aged five years from this conversation alone. “That’s all I need to know, really.”

As interesting as it sounded (e.g; the logistics of Hell’s governance, rules Hellian’s had to follow, the social hierarchy and the importance of humans, surprisingly) you thought it was far too early to go into the nitty-gritty details of anything incubi or succubi related. The fact that Hell mirrored human society in a democratic sense with far more nuances than you would expect was all sorts of intriguing, but your curiosity on that could be satiated another time.

You cleared your throat. “Anyways, thank you for answering.”

Haechan hummed in response, going back to demolishing his food.

Right now, you were more inclined to know what this meant for you and your living situation.

Speaking of.

“Is that why the rent is so cheap?” you wondered, eyebrows knitting together. “Because it had you stinking up the place?” The chair creaked as you fell back against it, arms folding above your chest to scrutinize him more.

Haechan gasped, mouth falling open at the jab. “Excuse you! I smell great!” and as if on cue, the scent of tangy sweetness went up right up your nose, making you grimace.

“It’s a little overpowering sometimes,” you confessed, wrinkling your nose and by the strange act of mercy, the smell dialed down and the urge to keel over disappeared completely. “Seriously, is anything normal too much for you? You couldn’t say ‘hi’ to me normally?”

Haechan arched an eyebrow. “What about ‘sex demon’ screams normal to you?” Touché. “And my way was much more fun.” (“it was fun being a nuisance?” you mumbled) “If I was that much of a bother, why didn’t you complain to Ms. Hong?”

You just about mirrored his expression, “what does my landlady have to do about this?”

Like, yeah, Ms. Hong had her responsibilities being a landlady, including the comfort of her tenants and having their best interests at heart, but you didn’t think she’d waste her time with your… special predicament. Ms. Hong probably had better things to worry about anyway, so why did he bring her up? Better yet, why was there familiarity with the way Haechan addressed her?

“She only tried to banish me one too many times,” He huffed as he mirrored your posture. “I got so sick of it that I left my sigil here so she couldn’t do it anymore. She knows better than to tamper with demon magic.”

“Banish—again, what?” Your head was already spinning from the onslaught of information you’ve been fed up until this point. Add Ms. Hong and her involvement in this? It’s a miracle your brain hadn’t imploded on itself.

“You really don’t know?” Haechan cocked his head, regarding you with an unreadable expression for a short moment, just watching you silently process what he said until his face smoothened to show a little bit of sympathy. “Darling, Ms. Hong’s a witch.” He spoke slowly.

“I literally just found out that you, an incubus, exists. How was I supposed to know she was a witch?!”

Though it did make sense. How weird your landlady acted during the first meeting. How cryptic she was in answering every question you had prior to viewing the unit and she essentially begged you to ‘be careful’ before you left. She knew very well that apartment 66 was housing a demon and cut the costs as compensation, leaving you to figure out the fatal flaw of this damned unit.

Haechan shrugged. Okay, so he’s useless. Great.

With a heavy resigned sigh, the table clattered as you clutched your head. “She’s a fucking witch and she scammed me.”

“Can’t be scammed if you’ve gotten what you asked for—an apartment perfect for you.” Unlike yourself, Haechan found this absolutely hilarious. So nice to know that someone found amusement in your suffering. “with an added little something to keep you entertained, yes?”

It was obvious what he was hinting at: himself, looking up just in time to catch him flashing you a cheeky grin as you stiffened at the sensation of his foot brushing up and down your shin—which was a bizarre choice. Bizarre for you, but another Tuesday for him. The clock barely hit ten and here Haechan was, wasting no time shooting his shot so he could have his fun. Just when you thought your life couldn’t get any weirder.

How he knew of your wants, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out how he did. With Haechan and his display of freaky ‘demon magic’, you'd assume anything was possible for a Hellian like him, peeking into your head as if it was free real estate. Asshole.

“I don’t remember ever asking for you,” you grumbled, your foot pushing down on Haechan’s to stop him. God, were you seriously playing footsie with a demon?

“Oh? Then that’s too bad,” he said through a pout, mocking. “Unless you find a witch powerful enough to get rid of me and my sigil, I’m staying—and it’s not like you could afford to move again.”

And it’s all kinds of condescending. The way he talked, the way he leered, yet even with all the goading, he was right. There was no way you could afford another down payment for a new place that would surely have a higher jump in price, so you stayed quiet. It was a time like this where you wished there was a reset button to life. Why weren’t you born into money?

“Thought so. Glad we’ve come to an agreement.”

The self-satisfied smile he sported was all sorts of grating, but you weren’t going to risk what he could do to you if you threw a bowl to his head.

Demon magic was an entirely different thing still beyond your human brain’s comprehension, and his black-lacquered nails were like a silent threat on their own.

The scratches on your neck and waist serve as a reminder that Haechan had claws that could tear you apart, hidden in plain sight.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t know supernaturals exist,” Haechan said in slight awe and wonder, lightly swinging his feet from his perch on the counter. “I mean, it’s not like we’re hiding what we are. I’m sure someone warned you, or something.”

With the absence of any self-preservation skills, it wasn’t all too surprising that your Grandma took it upon herself to become the overbearing parental figure in your life.

Grandma was the exact person Haechan was referring to. You told him how she’s as superstitious as they could come and she, with her unwavering belief in anything supernatural, had tried to drill the same into your head. You had practically grown up with her making you do things that could hopefully stop you from going face-to-face with one; would even commission one of her equally insane friends for amulets or talismans to keep the malevolent creatures from latching onto you.

Being who you were, hyper-independent from such a young age to present, those little trinkets you were forced to wear ultimately ended up in the trash and Grandma had long given up on that alternative, fed up with you constantly “losing” them.

Too late now, you thought. When there’s Haechan on your kitchen counter, magic singing with each languid flick of his hand that wound around your wrists like how a cat’s tail would—soft, warm and grounding. Which you didn’t think was even possible when all he used it for was to dry the dishes you hand him, putting them away after with a wave of his hand. If Grandma could see you now, the old crone would likely keel over and die of a heart attack.

“Grandma was kind of insane,” you joked. Paranoid too as she would always call you home the moment the sun went down in fear of you being snatched away by some cryptid. “She was against me going to college, harping on how the city was too dangerous for her ‘sweet girl’. But I wanted different things and I never believed in anything she said.”

If you did, that would also mean you would have let her instill into you the fear of something you weren’t even sure existed. Perhaps struggling to keep yourself afloat wouldn’t even be a thing if you just stayed under Grandma’s roof, but that was another can of worms you didn’t really want to open today.

“Grandma was right, though.”

“Yeah,” you huffed, giving him a brief once over. “Clearly.”

Haechan hummed, preening under the attention. “She really is. Seoul’s infested with all sorts of creepy crawlies. Like, vampires make up most of its supernatural population. You’d usually find them in upscale districts like Itaewon or Gangnam. Bougie fuckers, I know.” he said, matching your own disbelief. “But they’re very generous. Can’t say I’ve had any boring times with the leeches either. Their fangs are really sharp. Sharper than mine.”

You didn’t need to put two and two together to get what he was hinting at. By the lecherous, wide smile that showcased Haechan’s own set of upper fangs, a little shorter than would you’d think of a vampire’s, it was enough to tell you that he’s had his fair share of hook-ups with the bloodsuckers.

You wrinkled your nose at the thought. An incubus and a vampire. That’s a very interesting picture to paint. “I thought humans were the default favorite for you demons?”

“I never said they weren’t,” he said. “Doesn’t mean that I can’t try anything else though. Like, Think of it this way—you have a favorite food to eat, right? Eat too much and you’d def grow sick of it. It’s like that.”

“So, in essence, you put off humans to grow… an appetite? To crave for them?”

“Awe, see? You’re catching on,” Haechan cooed. “Though, slight correction, I always crave for humans.”

He was fucking with you. He’s got to be, yet you didn’t think you were in a place to judge his choices. You were painfully human. You didn’t need to do anything drastic for sustenance.

“Whatever gets your fill, I guess. You look like you have it easy, picking out any willing human to be yours for the night anyway.”

You weren’t blind. You were the farthest from dumb too and just looking at Haechan was enough to tell you that he had it easy. That batting his eyelashes once or twice—three times, for good measure—would get anyone keeling over, scrambling to give what he had asked for before Haechan’s deceptive sweetness turned sour. Threatening. Deadly.

With the way he carried himself, how he talked, how his mind worked—all being from the hours-long observation you've mentally conducted—it was just telling how Haechan wasn’t necessarily a stranger to compliments. He was made to be desired. He was made to fulfill such desires, and you could only imagine how often he hears praises for the way he looked. You didn’t didn’t need to add on the number. It's not like he’d die from not hearing anything from you. Haechan could live.

What he could not live without, you were starting to notice, was to have his fun pushing your buttons. The shit-eating grin just told you as much.

“Don’t let that get to your head.”

“Too late! You think I’m sexy,” he sang. “As you should, actually.”

“I hardly think heavy eyeliner is sexy,” you quipped.

Haechan begged to disagree, letting out a wounded noise. “It makes my eyes pop.”

I hope they pop out from your skull. “Sure they do.” 

Here’s the thing: It did make his eyes pop. The unnatural amber shade was already ‘poppy’ as is, backlit by an incandescent glow, a detail the less educated would surely miss from being distracted by everything else. To you, it was the one damning trait that showed Haechan wasn’t at all human and the smokey darkness intensified that.

Haechan’s eyes were beautiful, hauntingly so, but you would rather gouge your own eyes out than to admit it out loud. You planned on wasting away for the entire day and you weren’t letting psychological warfare stop you.

Clearly, the parasite (see: Haechan) had other plans that involved ruining yours. It was like peace was never an option and here you were, given a demon to make sure you’d never find out what it would be like. Being at peace.

(Going back home to Grandma was starting to become a tempting out from this).

Haechan giggled despite the sarcasm, tilting his head to regard you with a look that was almost fond if it wasn’t for the permanent smirk etched onto his face.

“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun living with you, Y/N.”

You narrowed your eyes, “can’t say the same.”

“Don’t be like that,” he murmured as he poked the tip of your nose with his index finger, chuckling when you went cross-eyed. “I’ll make it fun.”

You scoffed, jerking your head away as if he burnt you. “Keep your hands to yourself, demon.”

Haechan only laughed as you made a break for your balcony with the idea of seeking refuge in the mini-garden that had been set up until the burn in your cheeks faded so no embarrassment, not even the slightest bit, would leave a trace.

“Something tells me you’re gonna want them on you soon,” came his reply as soon as you reached the halfway mark towards the sliding glass door. “and you can trust that I won't ever disappoint.”

He’s so fucking sleazy. You had half the mind to whirl around to pick another fight since ‘flight’ was immediately scratched from your choices, kind of like how the initial fear you had dissipated into nothing now that you were aware of what was haunting your apartment. All you felt was annoyance and my God did you want to fight him.

However, before you could even simulate a play-by-play of ‘Giving the Demon In My Home A Piece of My Mind’ in your head (with the hopeful outcome of Haechan reduced to a pathetic heap on the floor. Poetic, you thought, that an all too powerful entity was beaten down in that state), a surprised squeal interrupted your thoughts of murder, thanks to an invisible force hauling and backing you up against a sturdy, warm, smelling suspiciously of fucking tangerines—Haechan.

Boundaries were non-existent to Haechan it looks like, his arms loosely coiled around your shoulders like a snake luring its prey into a false sense of security as soft lips brushed along your cheek; warm and gentle before settling onto your temple.

“All you have to do is ask and I’ll be yours.”

III.

Having Haechan as a live-in something, was just.

Well.

Normally, the term ‘demon’ being attached to someone would already have some eyebrow raising expectations dealing with the macabre set in stone (mostly influenced by the very same supernatural dickrider classmate. You can never be too safe). Like him sacrificing a poor virgin on a pentagram scrawled onto the parquet flooring in haste, surrounded by candles as Haechan spoke in tongues. Or him engaging in orgies—also on a pentagram, but bigger for at least five people to pay their tributes to Satan through nutting one too many times. Which was? Good for them?

Only, the floor was spotless; hastily drawn pentagrams absent so there were definitely no virgins sacrificed (yet). No orgies either since the nights became surprisingly still, post-Haechan.

Having Haechan as a live-in something, was just, for lack of a better term, normal. 

Something close to dull if it weren’t for the constant reminders that this was a wretched so-and-so demon you were learning to deal with. The reality of it all was borderline boring that you hinted he was free to go ape-shit with his demonic duties. Many, many times until one odd look from Haechan, a silent prompt for you to elaborate, had you deciding against it and excused yourself to tend the small garden.

(He followed behind a second later, poking and prodding until you threatened to spray him with holy water).

In some way, Haechan had no problem adapting with your lifestyle. It was almost laughable how seamlessly he had woven himself into your routine built from years of being in survival mode. Like he was the cog that you didn’t even realize was missing from the machine and, dare you say it, Haechan has been a pleasant live-in something—a pleasant roommate.

What you liked most though, was that Haechan could cook.

Man, did the incubus know how to cook.

It was a quirk—perk, really—you had discovered after an offhanded mention of you routinely skipping breakfast to maximize time and efficiency (read: you were shit at taking care of yourself).

(“Hi,” you called out as you burst from your bedroom in a rush. “Bye. I gotta go.”

Haechan, who had been standing in front of the stove wearing a Pompompurin apron, turned his neck so fast that a crick was heard. “Wait, what?” His distress went pretty much ignored as you pulled on the sneakers you thrifted two weeks ago. “You haven’t eaten breakfast yet!”

Oh, you knew that. Mourned it really, but— “No time. I’ll take a slice of toast though,” you said just as the toaster went off.

The incubus shook his head. “No, you’re getting an egg sandwich. An Omelet sandwich. More filling than fucking toast.” Haechan scoffed and behind him, the two golden brown slices of toast floated as the spatula flipped a generous amount of the vegetable omelet onto one of them. 

Yeah, that was something you were still getting used to. Magic. 

“How’d you take your coffee?”

“Two sugars and one creamer. Both teaspoons.”

“Finally, a normal coffee order,” he sighed, appearing very relieved as he snapped his fingers to conjure a silver thermos before you could even question the weird reaction. “Go on,” Haechan encouraged, gesturing for you to grab it just as your sandwich hovered next to the thermos.

“Thank you..?”)

… and lunch.

(“Make sure to eat lunch, though.”

“Can’t either,” you sighed, stuffing the thermos into your backpack’s side pocket. “Club duties, tutoring sessions—” you ticked two of your fingers up “—plus, I’m on a tight budget until my next pay. My aunt can only sustain me enough.” That, and you’d rather not ask for help even if she insisted. Auntie meant well. You knew that, but she had her own family to take care of and you didn’t want to hear any of her useless husband’s unsolicited advice. Like, fuck that guy. Seriously.

“... dinner?” Haechan tried, sounding almost hopeful, only to balk at the thoughtful look you get while unwrapping your sandwich. You’ve got to be shitting me. “Damn, you live like this?”

Thoughtful turned annoyed which—yeah, Haechan thought he deserved that. “Not everyone has their parents paying for everything. Some of us do have to work.” You took a rough bite from the sandwich, muffling your next slew of words, “don’t you already know this? You have been watching me ever since I moved here.”

He understood anyway. “Not all the time,” he clicked his tongue, switching off the stove and range hood with a flick of his wrist. “I have a life outside being an incubus, y’know.”

“And what do you do in your spare time?”

He smiled something sinister. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”)

The bar was in Hell, apparently, because all it took for you to soften up was to get Haechan feeding you his food. Cooking was the last thing you’d expect from a demon and wasn’t salt considered the Kryptonite to demons and anything made up of evil and malice and shit?

(“Oh, most of us evolved past that. Hell, even Lord Satan’s immune to it. Some of the Hellians are deathly allergic though.” Deathly allergic. How fitting.

“So salt just picks out the weakest link?”

He laughed softly, nodding. “Survival of the fittest.”)

Whatever. You had no room to question Hell and its people’s lore when you were eating like a king, ironically being fed by one of Hell’s people.

Besides, food was one less thing to worry about. An equivalent to luxury; being sent to college with a full, Sanrio themed lunch box that could feed at least three people (see: YangYang. A blockmate you’ve recently gotten closer to whom you’ had caught occasionally staring hungrily at your lunch) and more often than not, you’ve been coming home to a set table and a man in a cutesy apron. You were starting to sense a pattern here.

“Just to be clear,” you began. “you’re not fattening me up just to eat me, right?”

“I thought you weren’t into vore?”

“Please be serious.”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” Haechan peeked over his shoulder, snorting. “If that were the case, I would have swallowed you whole that very Sunday morning.” The My Melody apron—pink and frilly all over—surely didn’t help his case.

It was like being held at gun-point by a bear; nerve-wracking, yes and you haven’t forgotten for a second that Haechan had the upper hand for simply being not of the mortal plane. Yet it was oddly endearing, now that you took notice of the gray crewneck that definitely belonged to your wardrobe, cinched around a lithe waist.

It still did make you think though. “So there’s no ulterior motive?”

Haechan whirled around to face you with a gasp, eyes widened in feigned innocence with a hand on his chest. “You don’t believe that I’m cooking from the goodness of my heart?”

You arched an eyebrow.

The demon sighed, lips forming into a slight pout. “Fine. Maybe this is more for my benefit than yours.”

“Haechan.”

Haechan raised both of his hands in what you think was placating. “You’re as good as useless when your life force quality sucks from your shitty eating habits. I’m doing myself a favor,” He shrugged. “If you’re eating good, then I’m eating good—that sort of thing.”

Okay, so maybe you still wanted to punch him in the head.

“Wow,” you said dryly, resisting the urge to get up and strangle him. “Way to make a girl feel special.”

There was a coy smile playing on his lips. “If it makes you feel better, you can just treat me as something that warms your bed,” the incubus brought his attention back to what he was doing previously, deciding against magic, weirdly enough. “In more ways than one. I don’t mind.”

The chair screeched along the floor as you stood up. “I’m gonna be late,” you sputtered, face hot to the touch and scrambling to escape.

Life was so much easier when you weren’t reminded of the possibility of Haechan running to you for his… sex thing. Actually, scratch that, life was so much easier when you hadn’t been made aware of him because there were times where you wondered when that would be. Multiple times. It wasn’t ever brought up; not by you, not by Haechan as he had been somewhat cordial, no mentions of anything related to his survival. At least directly.

In some way, this was different. It’s not often you’d listen to him blatantly offering himself for a test drive, and yes you do run away before Haechan could expound on it every time, yet something curls deep within your gut when you could feel curious eyes boring into your back as you ran off.

Haechan and his propensity for testing the lines was bound to get him smacked upside the head one of these days, but today wasn’t the day. He was smart enough on not exactly breaching the boundaries set, backing up before you could even get creative with damning him all to Hell.

“Here.”

You jerked your head up as you tied the laces of your sneakers and found another variation of a lunch bag dangling right in front of you.

“Thanks,” you said as you stood to your full height, still flustered and avoiding all eye-contact as necessary. “I’ll make sure to eat all of it.”

Haechan only hummed as you took your lunch from him, offering nothing else.

“You know, I’ve always wondered who makes your lunches,” YangYang started, sidling up next to you just as your phone pinged. “They’re all so… detailed. Is it your mom?” 

“Ever thought that maybe I made them myself?”

haechan 👹: hi you: what

Telling YangYang outright that your ‘roommate’ went through all the trouble didn’t sound like a good idea when Yunjin was within earshot. Apartment 66 was a one-bedroom unit and she knew very well that you lived alone, her living just right below you with Chaewon, too. Mentioning the roommate would just raise all sorts of questions that could paint you as mentally unstable if you told her about Haechan and his fucking sigil (that you still haven’t found!) that had gotten you in this situation. You felt mentally unstable just thinking about it.

haechan 👹: i miss you :( you: ?? you: what’s wrong with u

Not to mention your mom was as good as dead to you.

“Okay, fair. I don’t think your mom would prepare something so phallic either, lol.” You’d never have thought hearing ‘phallic’ and ‘lol’ spoken out loud in the same sentence would give you this much of a start, immediately looking up from your phone to catch him already holding your opened lunch box with one hand, chopsticks at the ready to poke and prod in the other. “This looks like a dick—look, cherry tomatoes as the balls—”

“Stop doing that,” you hissed, snatching your lunch from him, only to put it in the middle of you two so you wouldn’t have to see him sulk. “No one else is gonna steal my lunch from you.”

you: srsly you’ve been so weird lately haechan 👹: hungry ʕ>Ⱉ<‧ :ʔ you: ? eat something then lol

“So the dick wasn’t code for a quick fuck in the toilet stalls?” He teased, biting down onto the tips of his chopsticks with a sharp grin. “I’d be down.”

If looks could kill, YangYang’s guts would be splattered everywhere on the table.

“Absolutely not.”

You didn’t feel the least bit sorry when YangYang choked on the egg roll you shoved into his mouth.

With pleasantries came oddities and Haechan was never short on the latter.

It’s like this: It has already been established that Haechan was an incubus. A subclass of demons that made up a quarter of Hell’s population and his origins was also proven by the unrestricted use of his magic at home, yet he still liked to show off that he was exactly that.

There were times where you would catch him hovering an inch or two—sometimes higher—from the ground which you thought was rather unnecessary. Again, the blatant usage of magic for anything menial (e.g: opening cupboards, switching lights, turning on the TV that somehow materialized from nowhere when the remote was right next to him) and you found out the hard way that other than the claws, he also had horns and a tail.

Let’s just say Haechan had to stop you from calling 112 at three in the morning. Again.

(No. He didn’t have to get on top of you this time).

Still, having him around had been, more or less, pleasant. Except when he was stewing away on the couch, which also doubled as his bed, in this peculiar form.

From how often it happened, it became a little guessing game with yourself whether you would come home to Haechan in the form you were acclimated to seeing everyday: human and rather unassuming when his beautiful face did all the talking, or the form where he was completely embraced by his own darkness.

Literally.

Like right now and you had to swallow back a scream from how eerie this thing—Haechan came off, sitting on the couch with the inky black haze swirling around him. It rose and fell like tendrils made out of smoke, curling in the air and reaching out for nothing in particular. You’ve never felt so creeped out as you did now. For a moment, you expected that one of the ghostly limbs would shoot out and grab you.

“Haechan?” you called as you closed the door with your foot. The void™ looked over, his blood-red gaze making you flinch. Christ, that always freaked you out, but you smiled anyway  to appease him, if not a bit crooked and a smidge wary. “Are you okay? What’s with all… this?”

At that, the smoke stilled before getting sucked into his body, revealing Haechan and all his tan glory, sulking. At least he was wearing his own clothes today, a soft looking shirt and a pair of gym shorts that showed way more leg than you think was considered legal. He was comfortable enough to keep his horns and tail out with black, thick-framed glasses as the newest addition.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him in such a vexed state. Haechan liked to complain. There wasn’t a day where he didn’t voice his grievances that you kind of expected a long-winded rant the moment you walked through the door, but as you looked closer, he didn’t seem to be in the mood for routine.

He seemed subdued. Sun-kissed skin took on a deathlike pallor and devoid of the usual inhuman glow, so unlike the deceptively beautiful incubus, unshakable even against the harshest remark you’d thrown at him. Now, he looked quite the poster-child for pity. Even his striking eyes lacked the ever-present sheen of mischief in them. He looked awfully plain, almost in a sickly way.

His pout took on a more dangerous route, so close to tugging on your heartstrings with how… pathetic he came off. “I’m hungry.”

“Uh-huh. Read your text,” you said, shoving your sneakers into the cubby.

He did know that he lived here way before you, right? This place was his as much as it was yours. A truth he’d always hold above your head to get his point across, which naturally meant that he was free to gobble up anything edible unless you tell him a specific food item wasn’t for his claws to sink in.

“You didn’t start on dinner,” you noted as you stalked into the kitchen for a drink. “Did you want me to cook instead?”

Haechan's face twisted, something a little pained as he let out a soft whine. “Not hungry as in hungry.” he patted his stomach. “I’m hungry as in—y’know.” Haechan made this intricate gesture with a hand. Like you were supposed to know what the fuck that meant—never mind, he was missing one hand. The crude motion he made soon after with it told you all you needed to know. What he was particularly hungry for.

“Ah.” No wonder he was so needy. Why he seemed sluggish; irritable at times as he almost snapped at you for not putting as much sweet chili paste he wanted in the tteokbokki that one time. It was actually kind of cute, that someone who acted like he was above everyone else was reduced to this. “Is that why you’ve been so clingy? Haven’t found anyone to bump uglies with?”

Clingy was one way to put it, but to be specific, for an entity birthed from all that was considered evil and dark, Haechan oddly had a cutesy disposition at times. The clinginess was very apparent though, reminding you of an overzealous cat shadowing your every move, getting in your way sometimes and not quite letting you have space. The apartment wasn’t exactly generous in that area either.

“My dick isn’t ugly,” Haechan scowled, blinking slowly as he slumped against the cushions.

You couldn’t help but to snort as you pressed the bottle’s opening to your lips. “Is it?”

An offhand comment, really, yet Haechan took it as a challenge anyway. Like he did with most things. You blamed it on his Leo placements. “I can prove it to you right now,” He pushed on as he sat straight up, making you freeze. “You’re talking to a very hungry and very desperate incubus.”

Oh. So you were doing this.

Well, it wasn’t like you were not expecting to be Haechan’s temporary object of desire. It’s just, he never outright asked you to sleep with him, making it easy to assume that he got his fix from somewhere else. Sure, there were hints dropped here and there, though you’d prefer if it was spelled out for you to avoid any misunderstandings.

Now it was spelled out for you. Succinctly. No bullshit or riddle-speak to force you into doing mental gymnastics to figure out what he wanted. Nothing could be clearer than the incubus threatening to whip out the monster hiding in his pants just to prove you wrong (as one does).

Also, maybe you should learn how to shut the fuck up next time.

Panic shot through you like an electrical current, choking on your drink when you caught sight of his fingers teasing the waistband of his shorts.

“Wait!” you wheeze after a coughing fit, a hand shooting out to stop him from flashing you. “Can I at least wash up first?”

“Oh,” Haechan actually looked dejected at this as his hand stilled. “Okay. Don’t take too long, or I’ll miss you.”

‘I’ll miss you’. Jesus Christ. Even the text was less weird. 

“I’ll literally be only a few meters away?” You sputtered.

“Ugh, too far.” he whined, slinking over the couch’s armrest like a lazy cat. Haechan gave the bathroom door a brief glance before his attention went back on you, eyes softer around the edges and almost pleading. “Can’t I just go in there with you?”

“What.”

“We don’t have to do anything! You can have your shower while I can just sit on the toilet and talk about my day!” Haechan explained. Like it was that simple. “Or you can tell me about yours!” He added as an afterthought as if that would make him sound less insane.

The long look you gave was enough of an answer before you all but rushed into the bathroom, completely ignoring the indignant yell from Haechan as you locked the door behind you.

This was probably the weirdest shower you’ve ever had.

Actually, this was the only weirdest shower you’ve ever had.

As if you weren’t embarrassed enough from Haechan offering to keep you ‘company’—which, again, was insane and very bold. Mostly insane—he spent the first five minutes pawing at the door, whining about how he “won’t do anything, really! Just let me be with you, please.” and maybe, maybe you did kind of entertain the idea for a good five seconds or so, before you were hit with how fucking ridiculous it sounded.

Though, admittedly, it was a little endearing, hearing just how desperate he can get, but also the fact that he could literally poof in if he wanted to. He just chose not to. A literal demon. In the flesh. An incubus with unimaginable power running through his veins he could use and abuse to get his way. And Haechan does none of that.

He was still outside. Still pawing at the door, all the while recounting his day spent lounging about the house since the lack of sex had depleted his energy to doing anything else, apparently.

(Seriously, what did he do in all his spare time?)

Other than that, it seemed the concept of consent wasn’t at all lost, that it still held some sort of value for the people assumed to not have any morals (the more you know). It could very well just be a Haechan thing, nonetheless you appreciated the rare instance of him not testing his luck against the boundaries you’ve set.

You made a face. Half at the way the lukewarm water sprayed onto your face bringing you out of your mulling, and half at the thought that Haechan could be sweet and considerate when he wanted to (or when it was convenient for him). 

He did have the face for it. That’s something you have regularly thought about—sleepy eyes, cute button nose, petal-pink heart-shaped lips and the array of moles smattered along his face and neck—yet sweet was the furthest adjective you’d attach to him, honestly speaking. You didn't think he was capable of anything soft, unless it was to manipulate a situation. Not when you were antagonized every waking day God forced you to face until you left Satan’s little minion on the couch for the night, just to do it all over again as soon as the sun bled through the blinds.

(With all the thinking time the shower has given you, you still didn’t know what his actual day-to-day schedule consisted of, though you could so tell that he fit ‘bothering Y/N, the boring human’ somewhere in there. It was one of his favorite past times).

Yunjin once mentioned that your resting face and the intensity of your glaring were the reasons why you were considered unapproachable, scaring off any potential suitor, too.

Like that was a problem. The guys at your university were mid at best and you wouldn't be caught dead with a guy who made getting his daily gains his entire personality trait.

Haechan was a different story entirely, somehow appearing flattered that you were trying to set him on fire with your eyes alone.

Both of you had migrated to the couch with you sitting criss-cross applesauce and a shoulder pressed against the couch’s backrest. Haechan took on a more laxer route; an arm propped up on the armrest to rest a cheek on his fist, torso twisted to face you without losing any of that comfort, and not even flinching when hit by the full force of your glare and furrowed eyebrows.

“So, are you a virgin?”

You glared even harder. “Shut up.”

“I’m just making sure! So I can adjust accordingly. Your first time should always be gentle and sweet, then we can talk about the other spicy shit you wanna try. Christian Grey style.” There was a joke being formulated here. You can literally see him working it out in his head. From the gleam in his eyes and the subtle twitch of his lips, you knew you were going to absolutely hate it. “Could I interest you in some nipple clamps?”

There was a version of Haechan in your head that had just died from spontaneous combustion, just like the other Haechans that died from different causes for simply talking his shit.

“I will clamp your fucking mouth shut, demon.”

“Stop,” he grinned, delighted by the reaction. “you’re gonna make me hard.”

“Freak,” you quipped, folding your arms. “and I don’t think Fifty Shades of Grey is a great representation of the B-D-S-M community. Or a reliable point of reference.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d be snooty with your smut choices.”

Please. You’ve read fan-fiction porn written better than what you’ve seen on the market, or (God forbid) BookTok. Obviously. The argument, however, didn’t make it past your teeth, and it was second nature to rebut against every jab Haechan hurled your way. It was a thing. Your thing. As in plural—for both of you, to engage in a back-and-forth until one of you conceded. It was a Haechan and Y/N thing to argue as if it were life or death.

And for the first time ever, none of you attempted to get the first word in. You could hear a pin drop in the silence that bit at the tail end of Haechan’s sentence and all that was left for you to do was to size each other up. Much like the night you woke to the demon sitting at the foot of your bed, gargoyle-like.

“Right,” you started, pushing yourself up to sit properly. Might as well get this over with. And for the sake of precaution, you can just threaten to waterboard him with holy water if he dared tell anyone else (does he even have any friends?) about what went on behind the manicured door of apartment 66. “How do we do this?”

Haechan inclined his head and smiled.

“Relax,” Haechan stressed as he tried coaxing you into sitting your full weight onto his thighs and then huffing when you couldn’t seem to just… let yourself go. “I’m starting to believe that you are a virgin from how tense you are.”

“Easy for you to say.”

He wasn’t the one who had unwillingly abstained from sex for longer than what was considered normal, and you honestly believed you'd forgotten most of what you've learned from the handful of meaningless hookups you’ve gone through. And yes, perhaps you were a little hesitant. You were pretty sure you have forgotten what a dick looked like too from not getting any on the regular.

Haechan was walking temptation himself. Sex on mile long legs that should be illegal, honestly, and being compared to his gargantuan pool of past conquests was terrifying to think about. What if you became his worst lay to date? That would actually obliterate the last ounces of your confidence and self-respect, and there wasn’t much to begin with.

Unsurprisingly, the incubus didn’t get where you were coming from, judging by the pointed look he gave you. “It literally is. I’m serious. Just sit down.”

And down you went on his lap with an undignified yelp as your fingers dug into his shoulder for balance. Even squirming to get out of his hold was too much work. Like, it was an actual struggle against Haechan’s tighter than tight grip. Fuck him and the abnormal strength. Escaping has never been so difficult until now, and you’d like to think you were rather good at it too.

“Last chance to admit you’re still a virgin,” he teased and sang the word ‘virgin’ just to further annoy you.

You felt your eye twitch. “Not a virgin. Just…” it tapered off into a sigh as you leaned back a bit for more breathing space, staring resolutely at the small, polished black horns protruding from his head. Was it you, or was it getting a bit warm? “It’s been a while for me.”

“Ah. Nervous?” Haechan supplied and the sigh of relief you released when his hands on your hips loosened their grip didn’t go unnoticed, his amusement made apparent with a soft chuckle. “Scared? I won’t bite unless you want me to.” Something told you he’d probably do it anyway. “and I’m not expecting you to like, be a pro or anything. You just sitting on my lap is already doing me wonders.”

Sitting on his lap was doing something for you too. Not quite falling in line with what Haechan was obviously hinting at, but a grounding feeling where all you could really focus on was how unnaturally warm he was. Going hand-in-hand with Haechan’s thumbs trying to meld circles into your hips became a good enough distraction to put the neurons firing off in your brain to a total stand still.

“Will kissing me help you calm down?” Haechan asked after a few beats of silence. “Or is that too much for you too?”

It was a very obvious bait only Haechan knew of to lure you in. The playful tone was too damning to let it fly above your head, yet you didn’t rise to clamp your teeth around the hook. This dragged on long enough and you were actually starting to get antsy because he wasn’t doing anything. He had every bit of power to do anything he wanted with you. You thought you sprawled above his lap was enough of a prompter for him to just take and take, but—

But.

Amber eyes. Striking as they always were even under the dim warmth of the accent lights, were less piercing as they gaze into your own pair. Something else lurked beneath the thin ring of amber, thinned by blown pupils. Something almost balmy and when you started to loosen up, Haechan wasted no time in gently taking both of your clammy hands to place them above his chest. He was warm here too, your palms curving over the slight swell of his pecs, silently marveling at the firm muscles.

Your eyes flickered a moment down to his lips. Haechan huffed softly with a wry smile. You looked away.

He was quick to catch your chin with a hand, however. “I’m gonna kiss you now.” He warned, moving closer and closer—

And Haechan takes.

Pillowy soft lips slot in between your own trembling pair in a gentle dance. Tentative almost, which you knew was your doing while Haechan remained patient in matching what you have set for your own comfort, surprisingly. Haechan was many things, and patient was less likely to be related to his person, yet it was all he was when he changed the angle and deepened each succeeding press of his mouth.

Technically, this wasn’t the first time you shared a kiss with him (them being in dreams), but this was the first time you shared an actual kiss, lucid. Mind ever present and attuned in the moment to feel and act upon Haechan’s lips. So very unlike the fleeting drag of his mouth from your own and down the length of your throat and Haechan kissed like he just knew what to do. Knew what would earn him a sigh, an appreciative hum, or even a airy moan you had just let out from a teasing bite on your lower lip.

And as expected, Haechan forgot what it meant to be patient.

Haechan cursed low under his breath as he pulled away, ripping his glasses from his face and throwing it onto the coffee table with a loud clatter before capturing your lips again, tongue slipping right past the seam of your lips to taste more of you. His hands were just as impatient, leaving his warmth everywhere and everywhere until he sets them onto your thighs encasing his own. Haechan wasted no time feeling you up, squeezing and rubbing the soft flesh as he went higher where one missing detail halted his movements.

He pulled away from you with a wet sound and pressed his lips to your throat, “Just panties?” He asked, voice low and hoarse.

“Easy access,” you murmured, running your fingers through the unruly, but soft head of jet-black strands and pulling him back by the hairs on his nape to take a good look at him. Pulling his hair seemed to do something, or maybe it was the fact that you’ve been hot and heavy with the way his cheeks glowed a faint rosy hue. You didn’t know an all too powerful demon could be reduced to a debauched version of himself through kissing alone.

It’s made clear to you again that you still have much to learn and at this point, you couldn’t even deny the feelings that conflicted with your head.

“Less talking and more kissing.”

You wanted him. You wanted Haechan and all the oddities that may come with him.

“Oh, darling girl,” He cooed. “I’m all yours.”

The gradual descent from soft and measured to desperate and graceless was an all-consuming sensation of the incubus pulling your chin down so he could easily lick into your mouth. Like this was his personal way of sucking the soul out of you, through the languid drag of his tongue against yours. It was hot, wet, Messy. So messy and the slick sounds of smacking mouths wasn’t enough to alleviate the raging fire burning underneath Haechan’s golden skin and with the way he was holding you so close to him, you would think he was trying to fuse your masses together from sheer willpower alone.

Kissing soon became a forgotten art form, becoming less invested in the sweet taste of him and more inclined to draw out rough, dragged out groans with the slow rocking of your hips. It was a heady feeling being able to have the upper hand, even just for a short moment because if there’s one thing that was painfully obvious about the demon, it was that he hated losing.

(It’s beyond you how he’s able to make anything into a competition).

And the shiver that wracked throughout your entire body from Haechan sneaking his fingers underneath the flimsy garment of your panties was all sorts of rewarding, gripping the bare skin of your hips to guide you into pressing impossibly closer to his hefty bulge. An almost perfect fit in between the apex of your thighs. He wasn’t done, however, because an arm wound around your waist to keep you in place, and an unprompted moan tumbled from your mouth from jerking upwards to match the languid circling of your hips. 

“Like that,” Haechan said, breathless and mouthing wetly against your neck and still keeping up with the pace. “Like it when I know you feel good.” As if your brain wasn’t scrambled enough already he just had to say something like that and so easily too.

“Me too,” you said in spite of yourself, coming out as a whine. Almost delirious from the constant bouts of the incubus marking up your neck, gasping at the playful bite at your collarbone like he was demanding more from you. “Pretty. Your voice. I like how you sound.”

Haechan soothed the bite with kitten licks, letting out a sound, high and incredulous as if it was squeaked out from him. It was a funny kind of sound and you would have laughed if this situation took a sharp left. “You’re awfully honest tonight,” he noted. “got something to tell me?”

There’s a lazy grin tugging at his lips when he gets pulled by his hair again, akin to a cat getting caught in a place he wasn’t supposed to be at. Not even a grain of guilt could be seen on him as Haechan looked particularly smug. All too knowing of an inside joke you were ignorant to. It pissed you off.

It showed easily on your face as you scowled down at him.

“It’s probably your freaky magic forcing me to be.” Sure you were just as bad as Haechan not finding it in himself to shut up when it truly mattered, but you couldn’t say the same when it came to honesty or vulnerability. There was a faint trace of the citrusy scent you’ve associated with him too, especially when his magic was used. Yeah, that’s got to be it. It’s his magic doing all this brain scrambling thing.

Haechan doesn’t fight you on it, surprisingly, still maintaining that smug exterior despite how much of a hot mess he clearly looked with blown-out pupils and kiss-swollen lips. 

“Is that right?”

“Yeah.”

Although It did sound like he was conceding (a rare feat on its own, really since Haechan loved to argue as well. Like he gets a kick out of hearing you go off on a tangent. Almost like it was foreplay to him), you can never be too sure with him, and the next course of action was purely motivated by getting him to stay quiet. Keeping your lips on his did the trick, of course. An occupied mouth promised you absolute silence, save from the noises you managed to pull from him.

Pulling away, you began your descent; open-mouthed kisses mapped around the tantalizing bronze of his neck, something he deeply appreciated if the pleased hum was anything to go by. Hands dragged lower and lower to feel the firm planes of his stomach barred by his smooth shirt, until you were off of his lap and kneeling in between his legs.

And the tent in his shorts looked just as impressive as it felt pressed against you. You didn’t want to assume, but some crazed part of you had occasional ‘what ifs’ centered around his power being a direct reflection of his size.

Was it crazy? Yes. Was it as crazy wanting his cock deep inside your mouth that it could possibly puncture your esophagus? Definitely. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you sure as hell will be milking it for all its worth.

It was always such a treat catching the demon off-guard, preening at the precious sight of a rosy blush coating his cheeks. “What..?” The absolute bewilderment was cute, actually, and you just knew he was going to be even cuter when you reached out, grabbed a hold of his cock and—

“Oh, fuck.” Squeezed.

You leaned in close with your other hand on his thigh and asked, “Can I?” as you batted your eyelashes once, twice and lips pressed against the cockhead strained against the material the third time. Haechan’s own pair of lips parted to let out a soft moan, whether it was from the sensation of you gently trailing your nose up the length of his dick, or just at the mere sight of you doing so, it was rewarding all the same—that Haechan was at your mercy.

“You can do whatever the fuck you want,” he breathed out, clearly trying so hard to keep his composure.

This was it. Morbid curiosity conjured all sorts of images relating to what could be possibly doing a ‘is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just excited to see me?’ rendition. It couldn’t be just a normal looking dick, right? The idea itself was boring and it’s pretty obvious that boring wasn’t exactly exclusive to the demon. He was anything but boring. Well, you were about to find out anyway and with an encouraging nod from Haechan, your fingers hooked on the waistband and pulled to reveal—

“Why are you glaring at my dick like that?”

You blinked, glancing from the supposed monster that almost took your eye out from how it sprung out of its confines and slapped against his smooth stomach, to a frowning Haechan, clearly taken aback by your reaction.

“No underwear?”

“Easy access,” you should have expected that his shamelessness knows no bounds. Whore. “Seriously, stop glaring at it, hello? It’s not gonna bite you or anything.”

“I’m not,” you were squinting, leaning in closer and not minding Haechan’s squirming as you carefully assessed the shaft, marveling at its length and girth by giving it another squeeze and watching the precum bead from its head in mild fascination. “Just observing—I don’t know, I was expecting something else and not an actual penis attached to you.”

“An actual—what were you expecting?” He demanded, voice high, incredulous and sounding all too judgmental for your liking. “Something ribbed? Monstrous? Like those Bad Dragon toys? Tell me, are you a monster fucker?”

“Not a monster fucker,” you grumbled and then perked up, peering at him incredulously. “you know about those?”

He scoffed, like he was offended that you didn’t think he was up-to-date with current trends. “I have an iPhone. I use Google like everyone else, dude. Google is amazing.”

“Did you also know that you’re not supposed to call me ‘dude’ before I shove your dick in my mouth, dude? Or did Google not tell you that?” You paused.

God, maybe bickering was some kind of foreplay for him.

“Can you just suck me off, please?” he whined. “I feel like my dick will explode if you don’t. Actually, I’ll even burst into ashes and die.”

“… really?”

“Baby, please.”

“Fine,” you heaved out an exaggerated sigh, not acknowledging the word ‘baby’. “if I have to.”

“You’re the one who got on their knees!” Haechan squawked, “and don’t make it sound like a chore—”

You didn’t let him finish that complaint, quickly taking the sticky head of his cock into your mouth and sucked. Salt and the barest of sweetness hits your tongue just as Haechan choked on his own spit.

“Oh. Oh shit.”

Haechan properly moaned as a hand gripped on your nape when you took him deeper into the slick heat of your mouth, minding your teeth, and pumping what you couldn’t fit for now punched out a groan from him. Loud and guttural—mostly loud. Unabashedly so—that you just had to take a peek to see what he looked like, completely losing himself in the haze of pleasure you brought up on him.

His head had fallen forward, eyes shut and breath turning shallow the more you take in his cock with each bob of your head. This wasn’t exactly your first rodeo, going down on someone, but with the ache you were starting to feel in your jaw, you might as well be inexperienced because of his sheer size. Haechan wasn’t obscenely big to the point it was going to be an impossible fit, though he was definitely the biggest you’ve had in your mouth (about to have in your pussy. Maybe. Hopefully?) so far and somehow, as if letting his spirit possess you, you took this as a challenge.

Your eyes were still on him when you released him with a pop, licking a stripe from his balls up and digging the tip of your tongue into the slit when you reached his tip to gauge his reactions. What made him tense? What was the likely trick to pull every lewd sound from him? What could you do to make him lose all grip on his control and let him take the wheel? It was meant to be a sloppy job, sure, but this wasn't just having Haechan’s pleasure as your priority, it was yours too.

And watching him fall apart just from your hands and mouth alone was doing something for you, something for the dampness you were starting to feel in between your thighs.

You’ve settled on a rhythm that seemed to tick off almost all three from your blowjob checklist. The grip on your nape was tighter and the sounds falling from his lips became all sorts of harmonious. Haechan had such a beautiful voice, a unique tone that would have been such a waste if you hadn’t stepped up to make use of such a gift, and satisfaction curls from within you knowing you were responsible for creating such a wonderful song from having power over a monster.

“Fucking Hell,” Haechan whined, stuttering as your name rolled of his tongue. The hand that wasn’t occupied held onto your jaw, your cheeks caving in beneath his thumb and fingers for a tighter squeeze around his cock and making you moan and gag as drool seeped from the gaps and down his remaining length. “I—I wanna try something. You up for it?”

His hand left your nape, letting you pull away with a sharp intake of breath, eyes wet.

You definitely looked like an absolute wreck right now and yet Haechan stared like you were anything but a mess. It made your skin crawl. It made you feel so seen, but you didn’t really have the strength to push back against whatever ignited behind his eyes.

“What do you want me to do?” Jesus, you sounded so wrecked already.

Haechan looked relieved. “I want you to relax for me,” he said, the same hand that held your jaw now cupped your cheek. “I want you to trust me.”

“Okay.” He hasn’t done anything to make you not trust him so far. “I trust you.”

“Okay,” he repeated and his hand was back on your neck again, nudging you forward until your swollen lips pressed against his frenulum. “Relax.”

The faint citrusy sweetness increased in its intensity, so overpowering that it usually meant that a headache would soon come along, but it never did. Instead, there was a calmness that washed over your feverish skin, seeping into your muscles that unwound all the tension in your body and making you sag forward. While this—whatever this was—was happening, Haechan lazily flicked his wrist to jerk himself off, minding your face before squeezing the base of his dick and moaning softly when catching your eyes.

Strange. Everything felt so floaty. Like there was this sleepy haze encompassing your mind that numbed all your senses and rendering control over your own body next to non-existent, leaving Haechan to do all the work himself; one hand still remaining a heavy presence on the back of your head with the other guiding his cock into your mouth.

“Open up, sweet girl,” then fucked in the entire thing in one swift go.

It was an instant stretch for sure, but you didn’t gag. Not even a bit. It was like that particular reflex had been numbed into nothing as Haechan wasted no time settling on a brutal place, fucking up into your face, blatantly using you—your mouth like a cocksleeve with each rut of his hips becoming rougher after the other.

“Look at you just taking it, fuck.” Haechan groaned, pleasure just as visible on his face. From the faraway look in his eyes to his slackened jaw, freely letting him run his mouth. “You talk too much, y’know that? Always bitching about something and all I could think of was shutting you up with my cock.” He hissed. “Now look at you. So fucking pliant. Knew you were gonna be so good for me. ‘s like you were just made for it. Made for me.” you couldn’t help but whine as his fingers stroked your cheek full of cock.

It was a tight fit. So tight that it was the only thing you could think about, holding on to one of Haechan’s thighs to keep you anchored amidst the overwhelming fullness in your mouth. How you managed to keep up with the almost frantic thrusts, you had no idea, though it looked like you were faring well with pulling off every trick in the ‘sucking dick’ handbook if he was throwing his head back and gasping when you sucked particularly hard on the upstroke.

The sight was something else entirely. Pornographic almost, in a way the front row seat of the demon getting himself off left you squirming, hyper aware of how damp your panties have gotten that it stuck to your skin. All from watching and being used to get his fill.

You were so horny that you could cry.

You staved off your own pleasure to be of service to Haechan and you were just hit with how much you needed to be touched. A whimper broke out from you, garbled and broken when you couldn't even ask him to do something. Anything to make the ache go away.

“I know, darling.” Haechan gritted. You hadn’t even realized your eyes fell shut when they snapped open and met his pinched expression. “Just a little bit more. You can take more, can you? For me? I’m going easy on you for your first time. You should be thankful I did. Next time, I won’t be so merciful. I want to see you gagging for it. Choking on it. You’d do that for me, won’t you?”

All you could do was hum, nails digging into the meat of his thigh when he pressed your head forward until your nose digs into the nearly trimmed hair surrounding his groin. Still, you didn’t gag, but swallowed, still numb and the weight on your tongue was pleasant if anything. Your mouth felt so full and the pronounced ache in your jaw had tears brimming along the edges of your eyes.

You didn’t think you could wait that long, not when it clicked that you had both hands free. You made quick work of sliding your one hand down and into your panties, legs parting wide enough just as Haechan resumed his roughness. Your body burned hotter than ever, cheeks being the warmest, exponentially embarrassed by touching yourself in front of Haechan, whether he was aware or not.

It was quite the arduous task too, especially with the effects you were starting to feel when you remembered the tangy scent was there for a reason, like something was being taken away from you. This was probably the life force the demon was talking about, seeping through every pore to be taken and consumed until you were fit to do it all over again.

You were beginning to fall into delirium from the onslaught sensations of Haechan incessantly rubbing against the flat your tongue while chasing your own release by the quick work of your fingers along your clit. Delirious to a point where you felt things that weren’t even there, winding around your thighs and waist. You had thought it was the demon’s arrow-headed tail that somehow lengthened, but when you checked, it remained wrapped around your wrist, the one laid across his thigh.

The discovery wasn’t exactly alarming. Kind of weird, sure, like the many oddities of Haechan, but you just chalked it up as his magic keeping you in place. Invisible ropes coiling and uncoiling around your legs as their way to caress your skin, grounding you, and acting like they were an extension of him and his subconscious. Almost like they were t—

“Fuck. fuck,” Haechan whined, following up with a, “gonna come—gonna come!” with his grip growing tighter and tighter. You were close too. On the brink of it, admittedly, and that was from being so wound up, simply watching that you were kind of surprised you hadn’t cum all over your fingers the very moment they slipped in between your folds.

On a surprising act of chivalry, Haechan did try to pull out from being buried in your mouth in what felt like hours of being reduced as some hole he’d get to use, though the moment he warned you again, you silenced him with a tearful glare and sank until your nose crushed into his pubic bone again, all the while holding onto the hand that never seemed to leave the back of your neck just to prove a point.

Blunt nails dug into the skin of your nape as Haechan shoots thick streaks of his cum down your throat with a choked off groan just as you moaned around his length, falling apart just shortly behind. Thighs shaking in exertion from kneeling and the orgasm that jolted through your veins that, in return, dissipated the fog of the spell? Magic? that acted as a numbing agent for your throat. It was then that you gagged. Almost violently as the sound wasn’t at all pretty, nor sexy, given the current setup.

You were fine though, albeit teary and out of breath as you took Haechan’s thick cum like a champ, swallowing every single, tartly sweet drop with the cockhead pressing at your soft palate. Once he slumped against the couch did you then pull him out of your mouth, sliding your tongue  back-and-forth at the underside of his cock to tease and bring him to the beginnings of oversensitivity.

Haechan could only whine, lazily trying to pull you away, to no avail.

You let up, snickering at the withering glare he gave you.

Out of everything you tried, this was probably your favorite way of shutting him up. Granted, Haechan was mostly the benefactor from getting his dick sucked, it was loads better hearing an artful mix of his moans and whines than him actively trying to make himself out as the insufferable villain in your story with words alone.

“You’re a peach, Y/N,” Haechan said after gathering the much needed oxygen back in his lungs. “The sweetest peach. I could eat you up. C’mere.” You damn well hope he won't. Being eaten is like the worst way to die, even if you knew it was a little jokey-joke he’d often tell just to see you squirm  “Let’s take care of you.”

Oh.

Oh. Right.

“It’s fine,” you waved him and the offer off. “I—um, finished.” You cringed. What are you? A wench from the Victorian period?

Haechan looked so incredulous for a man who just got his soul sucked out through his dick. “You did? Show me.”

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself, sitting a little straighter and pulled your hand out from your panties. The evidence was quite clear too, coming in the form of glistening fingers that Haechan immediately noticed and before you could even blink, he had you on his lap once again to stick his tongue into your mouth. One hand around your throat, not necessarily choking you, and the other sneaking underneath your top to squeeze your tit.

“Think you can ride me?” Haechan asked in between the rushed push and pull of your lips. “All this just from sucking me off? I could just slide right in no problem,” his fingers slid into your underwear, warm fingers dragging over your clit and shallowly dipping into your hole as he said this. “Fuck, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? You have no idea how much I wanted to fuck you since you first walked into the bedroom. You want that, don’t you? Say yes.”

Burying his fingers deeper into your wet heat, you keened, pressing both your foreheads together. “Yes.”

Haechan’s smile was absolutely degenerate.

“Good girl.”

Just then, the front door slammed open.

The surprised scream that left you was next to ungodly as your arms flew around the incubus’ neck as his fingers pulled out from your panties—

“Honey, I’m home!”

And in walked a man you had never seen in your entire life, apparently ripped all to Hell because of fucking course the first thing you’d pay attention to was his tits. Visible even under the shirt that was meant to be oversized with the sleeves falling past his elbows, and sadly, you were no better than a man. His pecs looked insane and in your defense, they looked at you first!

“Oh. Oh, was I interrupting something?”

“Yes. Fuck off.” Haechan hissed just as you exclaimed, “who the fuck are you?”

The stranger completely skimmed past the demon, more interested in your presence.. “Now aren’t you a catty little one,” at this, Haechan pulled you closer which was followed by a soft laugh. “How cute—and my eyes are up here, sweetheart. Can’t blame you for staring, though.”

Chastised by the call-out, your eyes immediately flicked up to meet—Oh. Damn.

A glossy pair of lips parted to show two rows of perfect teeth. Far too many teeth that you thought were impossible for a human to have, but that didn’t erase the vital fact that this random dude was handsome. So, so handsome to the point your brain was struggling to comprehend that this man was real. Soft and sharp sculpted with such precision it’s as if he was crafted by the gods themselves. A full head of silver hair, one side artfully pushed back to show strong eyebrows and round sparkling eyes, staring right at you.

“Is she another one of your humans you fuck to survive?”

Well, handsome in a way it was better for him not to talk. You know, to keep up the illusion.

Haechan tongued at his cheek. “What are you doing here, Jaemin?” 

“Ah, right.” Jaemin casually strolled further in like he owned the place, the front closing by itself with a wave of his hand. Wait— “Lilith has been bothering Satan who has been bothering me to ask you when you’ll visit home.” Jaemin explained, then followed up with, “when do you plan on coming back home? I think more than five decades of complete radio silence is a bit much even for you, Haechanie.”

Oh great. As if one wasn’t already enough, another demon—by the damning sign of Lilith and Satan and Hell being mentioned—was under your roof.

You felt Haechan go rigid under you and you turned to him, confused at the sight of him slightly panicked. You had never seen him this panicked. “Um, never, actually!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s stated in Hell’s handbook,” It’s a real thing? “that I can’t leave the mortal plane when I’m tied down.”

Tied down? Did he mean the sigil somewhere in the apartment?

“Right,” Jaemin drawled, a thick and strong eyebrow arching in question with a fleeting glance towards you. “okay, so where is her mark then?”

“Here!”

Searing pain immediately bloomed on the inside of your wrist as soon as Haechan took hold of it, making you gasp as you watched delicately curled lines take shape into the sun. A small, inky thing the size of a coin branded on what was once the smooth plane of your wrist. Haechan’s sigil was now a permanent part of you too, a pretty little thing if you only knew what it meant.

“Well,” Jaemin coughed, glancing between you and the incubus. “Congratulations. Haechan is now yours, as you are his. You’re now bound to each other until death.”

Never mind. The sigil was positively the ugliest thing to be tattooed on your body.

Haechan was already looking up at you, terrified.

“I can explain—”

“I’m going to fucking kill you, demon.”

“Haha… is that plain water in that spray bottle, or is it actually holy water?” Haechan asked, his placating smile waning as each second of you not answering passed. “Please tell me it’s just water.”

Haechan shrieked, falling to his knees and arms coming up to block his face when you all but jerked the bottle towards his direction with a sardonic smile.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

It took you three full days to forgive him. After getting on his knees to eat you out against the kitchen counter, of course.

“I’m not against tattoos or anything, but,” you took a quick moment to observe the mark he left on you with little difficulty in understanding just why this was even a thing. “do you have to mark everyone you sleep with? Is this for you to keep track of them?” The thought then immediately left a bad taste in your mouth. Did this mean that you were simply part of the crowd Haechan would entertain only when he needed to?

“I haven’t been sleeping with anyone else.” Haechan confessed, quiet. “It’s kind of the reason why I’m hungrier than usual.”

“Oh.”

That made a lot of sense actually. Venturing out in search of a willing body was a thing for the first few months of being under the same roof. Haechan would always let you know of his plans for his nightly plans out of politeness that nights alone had become routine as well. Then somewhere along the way, it became a seldom occurrence. Twice a week. Once a week. Once every two weeks until you had realized he spent more of his nights with you, but less energized than what you were used to seeing when he was ‘full’.

That still didn’t answer your question though. Why was he keeping himself from taking what he needed to survive?

“Why all this then?”

“This isn’t just binding you to me. It’s more than that,” he muttered, taking your wrist and twisting it upwards to stroke the sun inked into your skin. Tender, as if your wrist was fragile enough to break at the slightest pressure. “And It’s for my own peace of mind.”

IV.

Naturally, it became a regular thing, being bonded to an incubus aside.

Since his choices had downgraded to a singular source, there wasn’t a day where Haechan didn’t have his hands all over you, or in you since it was an unspoken thing that he liked giving as much as he liked receiving and it was treated as simply an extra thing of routine that you started seeking him out on your own accord, too.

Haechan wasn’t picky when it came to a time and place either. He had you laying on the floor once after betting he could make you cum on his tongue more than once (two was enough, but since he was competitive to a fault, he had you begging—had you crying for him to stop after the fourth time). You gave him head in the dingy stairwells of the apartment after a bad day.

In the storage room. In the shower. The supposed off-limits rooftop. On the poor dining table you had to disinfect two times before Yunjin came over with the incubus disguising himself as a stray, black mainecoone cat. You ate on that thing, yet you spread your legs for Haechan to devour you until he was satiated. It was like an unspoken game of who can out-horny the other with little regard to privacy.

On most occasions, it was beneath you to even think of it, but the memory of Haechan holding you down on top of the working dryer and fucking your thighs in the basement slash laundry room, had you thinking otherwise. It was the most fun you’ve had in a while. Arguably your entire life, honestly.

Fucking around with Haechan was good. Great. Perfect even that all you could do was want him in every possible way you could think of. With every kiss, every touch accompanied by wicked promises breathed into your skin, Heaven was brought to you each and every time Haechan took you into his arms, having a piece of salvation for himself.

It should have been enough, oscillating between having his dick in your mouth and/or hands, or Haechan lapping at the aching center of your thighs until they quivered, or both at the same time. The classic ‘69’. (which almost always turned into a competition on who could make who cum first).

Yet greed had gradually reared its ugly head the longer you listened to your closest friends’ sexcapades that extended beyond heavy-petting and oral, because Haechan never dared to push further. The irony of a creature literally embodying temptation, yet never allowed himself to be tempted by a willing body was almost laughable, if greed and impatience hadn’t put together a simple, yet straightforward question.

“Why haven’t we had actual sex yet?”

The knife slipped from Haechan’s hand. A bloody disaster if magic hadn’t been an inherent part of the incubus’ origins. It paused in mid air before it could even reach the ground and levitated back into his hand.

“Can we talk about my day?” This was the fastest you’ve seen his face go from neutral to exasperated.

“You barely leave our apartment, what is there to talk about?” you pointed out. “and this is serious! Are you, like, trying to abstain? What’s the vegan alternative of taking my life force without actual penetration? Porn?”

Dead eyes stared right at you. “You’re not funny,” Haechan said, “and if I was abstaining, I wouldn’t have let you sit on my face last night.” Okay, fair point.

“Then what gives?” You groaned, acting as his shadow as he moved about the kitchen. “We’ve done everything but stick your ‘monster’—“ (Haechan’s eyebrows pinched together. “Why is monster in air quotations.”) “—cock inside me. Am I—” you paused, dread creeping up your system for a plausible reason why you aren’t getting dicked down like you deserved. “Am I not sexy enough?”

That startled a laugh out of him, the previous, bordering on dour front fading completely for his sunny smile to take its rightful place on his lips. “You’re plenty sexy, and cute too, apparently. C’mere.” It was almost easy walking yourself into his space, sighing as his warm palms rested on your hips. “Kinda miss when you were meaner. Did I successfully sucked the attitude out of you?”

“Oho. Didn’t realize I was getting a free show.”

You stiffened at the sound of the awfully familiar voice belonging to the current bane of existence and spun on your heel to find Jaemin on the couch, Switch joy-cons in hand.

The mortification of him listening to you essentially whining at the lack of penis-in-vagina action didn’t even get the chance to settle in when you were more annoyed at Jaemin seeking refuge in your home. Again.

“Don’t you have any other supernatural friends to annoy?”

Jaemin, totally unbothered by the visceral reaction, only gave you a sharp smile, like a shark getting a whiff of fresh blood, that raised all sorts of alarm bells. Terrifying thing, Jaemin. “Hey, sweetheart,” how he made a greeting sound so condescending, you didn’t know. Maybe it was a Jaemin thing. “You’re home early. How’s school?”

He looked to be in the middle of another session of rotting his brain by playing Animal Crossing, a mint green bunny speaking to him—his in-game character—in aegyofied gibberish. It was like looking at two Jaemins the more you scrutinize them side-by-side. One less demonic than the other, but still an uncanny resemblance.

“We don’t take in strays.”

Jaemin barked out a laugh, letting the joy-cons fall into his lap. “That's funny, coming from you.”

“I legally live here.”

“The legality of your living situation is nothing compared to my centuries of knowing Haechan,” Jaemin turned towards said incubus to bat his ridiculously long eyelashes that you held an irrational jealousy for. “right, Haechanie?”

“I hope your human crucifies you, actually.” Haechan quipped. Equal parts unimpressed and disgusted. 

Jaemin gasped, eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s so uncalled for!”

“It’s what you get for giving your human rat heads and all the other weird shit as courting gifts.” You wished Haechan was joking, but it was the truth.

The first night Jaemin came in unannounced was the very same night that he, a demon who took care of striking deals with desperate humans in exchange for what they treasured the most—A Dealer, you remembered Jaemin specifying for you—realized that maybe the feelings he was harboring for his assigned human went beyond what was considered platonic. That then created a domino effect of him asking for advice, you giving advice with Haechan’s own input and Jaemin, a man of tradition, somehow fucking up in the process which revolved around his… questionable tastes in gifts.

(Also, don’t cats hunt for small animals to give their humans as ‘gifts’ too? There’s a joke to be made here somewhere. Something about Jaemin disguising himself as a demon while actually being a cryptid. An Eldritch horror in a human skin suit).

“I’m heading out to get some stuff for dinner.” Haechan said. “Talk some sense into him, will you? He gave his human a bracelet made out of teeth.”

“The entire thing is made of teeth?” He nodded, grim. Then you turned to Jaemin who resorted to whistling a tune as if what he did was socially acceptable. “Jaemin!” You scolded, like you birthed him yourself.

“What? It’s either a freshly harvested human skull for her candles or teeth from the dental clinic I work at, take your pick!” Jesus Christ, this was actually worse than talking to YangYang and he says pretty fucked up shit on the regular. And the dental clinic made so much sense, you know, with Jaemin’s wide smile and many, many teeth.

“I’ll see you in a bit okay? We can have some fun when Jaem’s gone.” Haechan winked, placed a quick kiss to your cheek before turning to Jaemin and it was impressive how the softness he had for you hardened into something stern for the other. “And try not to give my human an aneurysm. You’ve done enough damage to yours.”

And then he was gone, like, he disappeared into a puff of hot pink smoke, leaving you to marinate in the warmth of being flustered by the sudden, but not unwelcome act of affection in the middle of the kitchen.

Jaemin appeared either physically ill, or an outrageous alternative for surprise when you made your way towards him. You didn’t know. Pretty as he was, he made the strangest faces sometimes that you sort of pitied the human bound to him.

“What?”

“What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

“That—“ Jaemin then did this poor impression of you: an exaggerated demure curl of his lips, his stupidly long eyelashes fluttering so fast you would think he was having a seizure and the most offending of all, a high-pitched, ear-grating giggle that didn’t sound remotely close to yours. You didn’t even giggle! Not even once! “Dick so good you got domesticated.”

You closed your eyes. “Please never say those words ever again.” Or I’ll kill you myself, you wanted to say. Though, he’d probably end up killing you before you could even attempt dumping a bucket of holy water on him. “and I wouldn’t know. I’ve only had him in my mouth. We haven’t gone further than that.”

“… interesting.”

Your eyes snapped open. “You hesitated. What did you mean by that, you fucking cryptid?”

Jaemin only smiled. Knowingly. Menacingly. You hated him so much.

“So!” He clapped his hands together. “Trouble in paradise, Haechan’s human?”

“Oh don’t you even start.” you snapped, falling heavily beside him on the couch. “This is your intervention. Not mine.”

“We can both have our own interventions.” You didn’t really want to. You usually didn’t do the ‘emotions and feelings talk’ with someone who’d forced friendship upon you if you could help it, but beggars can’t be choosers and Jaemin was stubborn.

So, so stubborn. It’s like arguing with a wall, really.

“You’ve got a heart boner for our Haechanie.”

You gave him a long, tired look. “You are so weird.”

And, well, that’s one way to put it. Heart boner, you scoffed. He could have just said that you were, in essence, in the same boat as Jaemin longing for something sweet and long-lasting that wasn’t in the platonic sense. (And sex. Lots of sex).

You couldn’t pin-point the exact day where things had started falling into place. It was a gradual development, you thought. How Haechan’s habits became less annoying and more endearing as time went on. How you sought out his company more than you did your classmates turned friends. How you laughed at almost everything he said or did that you would have given a certain power couple a run for their money, and how you couldn’t even imagine a life without coming home to an incubus who was very insistent in keeping your health in check, even if it was more for his benefit than yours.

The final piece clicked into place when your body gave out, rendering you sick with the flu.

You weren’t exactly sure what you were looking at.

Maybe it was the medication Haechan immediately made you drink once it became glaringly obvious it wasn’t just a simple cold making you see things because there was no way a splitting image of yourself stood by your bed, wearing clothes that belonged to your incubus housemate.

“I’m dead,” you concluded. “I’m dead and my doppelganger is here to collect my soul.”

“No, it’s your super sexy housemate disguised as you.” The wide grin looked so out of place on your face. Almost uncanny valley. You’ve never used that much facial muscle before, and not to mention your voice. Is that what you sounded like to everybody? 

“That’s even worse.” you croaked after a disgusting coughing fit.

Haechan—with your face and body—huffed. “It’s either you miss class and fail that big test you’ve got coming up, or I show up to your classes in your place, take notes for you then teach you the material.”

The answer was quite obvious already. If Haechan hadn’t existed, you still would have shown up to class and your tutoring sessions and your part-time job, regardless of being sick. Which was exponentially worse, now that you thought about it. You relayed this to the demon wearing your face, and you have never wilted so quickly underneath his intense glare.

“There’s some congee on the stove for you,” Haechan said when you thought he was satisfied with giving you the most disappointed look known to man. “Make sure you drink your medicine after every six hours and drink more water. No wonder you get headaches so often.”

“You sure it’s not because of you?” You argued. Just because you were sick didn’t mean you lost the will to fight.

“I’m serious. Don’t fight me on it,” and gosh, it wasn’t often he addressed you by your name, preferring to use a small pool of pet names he had reserved just for you, but hearing him say your name and with a tone of finality made you feel things you shouldn’t when down with a flu. Even if it was in your voice… and with your face.

“Take it easy today,” Haechan stressed as he swung your backpack over his shoulder. “And call me if you need anything—anything, and I’ll come running back, or—well, poof back.”

The congee was delicious, probably the best you’ve had in your life and it did help alleviate the symptoms, the ginger soothing your scratchy throat, you felt less congested and not a grain was left in the pot. You spent the entire day lounging on top of the nest of blankets and pillows on the couch, the faint smell of Haechan’s citrusy sweet scent soothing as you drifted in-and-out of sleep, the TV humming lowly in the background.

Haechan came stumbling in the apartment, now looking like himself, devoid of the disguise that creeped you out more than it did impress you and with a hefty looking bag of take-away in hand. He looked a bit ruffled, certainly had a long day when you reminded him of your duties as a tutor, a club member of multiple clubs and as an underpaid employee.

(“Your Google calendar is packed,” Haechan exclaimed, staring down at his phone. “what do you mean you have upcoming networking events? You already have clubs committees. How do you keep up with all this shit and keep a 4.0?”

“And how exactly do you have access to that?”

“... I’m not answering that.”)

Nonetheless, a sweet smile kept its rightful place on his heart-shaped lips, his entire frame perking up when his eyes locked on you.

“So, something interesting happened today,” Haechan started.

In no time, the coffee table was filled with food, both of you sitting on opposite sides. A random series which you did not all care about rolled on quietly behind you as you loaded your bowl with tteokbokki and it was when you stuffed the very first, still hot rice-cake into your mouth did you realize he was talking to you.

“Sorry, wha’?” you said in the midst of chewing, delighted by the sweet and spicy sauce.

“Something interesting happened,” Haechan tried again, snorting softly and reaching forward to thumb at the corner of your lips, then sticking said thumb into his mouth. “You had some sauce.” He shrugged.

“Ah,” you rasped. “So what happened?”

He smiled. A private little thing reserved just for you, and maybe a touch sweeter that made your insides fold in on itself. “What’s with this YangYang guy and his hard-on for your lunches?”

“I see why you and Jaemin are friends,” you said, nose wrinkling at the odd phraseology. “and technically, you made those lunches, so…”

“Ew.” He stuck his tongue out in disgust. “Don’t be gross. As if I want to do anything with that—that imp!”

“Why’d you say it like it’s a slur?” The delivery made it sound like it was. Not to mention he did not, at all, sound very excited at the thought of YangYang possibly meaning something to you. Which was. Understandable. “Is it a slur?”

“No,” he sighed. “He’s an actual imp.”

“What?” Something told you’ve been saying that word way too much. “Huh?” That wasn’t any better.

“You couldn’t tell? The way he smiles is a dead giveaway. His teeth looked sharp. Very touchy with me—well, you, too. Imps are literal menaces to society and would latch onto anyone for friendship. Seriously, how did you survive all this time?”

“You keep forgetting I’m human, demon. I don’t know all this supernatural shit. And why are you so bothered? Jealous that you’re not the only man in my life aside from Jaemin?”

Haechan’s face drew into a careful blank. “Eat your food.”

Satisfied, you shoved two rice-cakes into your mouth.

“I quit your job, by the way.”

You stiffened from where you sat on the counter.

He what? “You what?” Did he forget that you were broke as fuck? “Haechan, I need to work! How the hell are we going to survive?” And by ‘we’ you meant ‘you’ because only one of you needed actual food to survive. The other lived on vibes and sex which, okay, would be ideal in this life.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said. As if it was that simple and he quickly stopped you from furthering the argument with a stern look. “I’m serious. I’ll take care of it. What I need you to do for me is start taking better of yourself. You’re already overworked from school. I’m surprised you still find time to tutor people.”

“Chenle pays very well, so…”

“Well, you can keep milking him of his money then,” from the looks of it, Haechan was fine with the Chinese transferee that followed Renjun (a friend made from YangYang’s insistence) around, and that was saying something since he did spend two hours tutoring the kid who was so loud you were surprised your hearing was miraculously left intact. “And still keep up with your clubs.”

Haechan flicked his hands above the sink right after closing the faucet, finally done with the last of the dishes, drying them with a tea towel before he stood in between your thighs.

“Should I know how you’re going to make this work now that I’m unemployed?” You joked and you knew very well that Haechan somehow paid his dues. You just never cared to ask how he was able to afford half of your combined expenses since you were more relieved by not getting any unwanted notices from Ms. Hong, or any of your service providers.

Haechan’s eyes glowed something along the lines of pensive and an unnamed emotion that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. All you knew was that you felt shy under his gentle scrutiny, his usual piercing gaze softer. That he was softer now that a wry curl of his lips accompanied the tenderness.

“What you should know is that you shouldn’t worry anymore,” he said, a warm hand cradling your jaw as the other rubbed the sun inked onto your wrist. “And that I’m here. I’ll take care of everything, and I’ll take care of you.”

Looking at Haechan right now, it’s like you were seeing him for the first time and suddenly, it all made sense. Maybe he was onto something, when he had said something so simple. That it was easy. Just like how easy all of this was with him. It was as easy as Haechan completing most of a puzzle and leaving you to attach the very last piece, painting a crystal clear picture of pointing out the obvious.

The sky was blue. The Earth rotated on its own axis, and you liked Haechan. Even with his oddities.

“Oh wow,” Jaemin said, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Your face already says enough.”

You scowled. “Says you.”

He shrugged, smiling softly to himself. “If it helps, I think I do know the reason why Haechan is holding himself back.”

“From what?” Was there a dumb rule in Hell’s rule book that Haechan, as a Hellian, wasn't allowed to copulate with a non-Hellian? Because you were halfway from the actual copulation phase of this arrangement and so far, nothing bad had happened. Yet.

“From you, sweetheart, and the last thing he’d want to do is accidentally hurt you.” Jaemin explained. “He marked you, remember?”

“Yes,” fingers absentmindedly ghosted over the sun on your skin. “I do remember.”

“Then that’s all you need to know.”

“Okay now that just sounds ominous,” and you were starting to get tired of the not very subtle implications of possibly getting injured during sex. "That did not help at all."

Jaemin just nodded, vaguely. Didn’t even try to elaborate on it. He’s so annoying.

The two of you lapsed into silence, looking at each other for a brief moment then averting each others’ gaze with a unionized sigh, one heavier than the other, as you contemplated the gravity of the situation.

“So… what do you think about a tooth necklace to go with the bracelet?”

“Why can’t you be normal?”

“What did you and Jaemin talk about?”

You could almost sob from being denied yet another orgasm. Apparently, Haechan wanted to find out if he could make you squirt, which then brought forth the idea of edging you so it could be a two-in-one experience or whatever the fuck. You only agreed because he did promise some fun after Jaemin left and you were obviously going to expect him to deliver.

What you didn’t expect was for him to bring up the so-called ‘girl talk’ (as Jaemin had affectionately put it) after what felt like hours of being brought to the brink of an orgasm and denied over and over again.

“Seriously?” You groaned, lifting your head up so you could glare at the demon peeking innocently between your thighs. Though, nothing was innocent with the way the lower half of his face was drenched in a dubious mix of his spit and your juices.

“You wanna do this right now?” Right when you were so close to leaking all over his fingers? “Just make me cum like you were made for, demon.” you grunted, emphasizing it with your fingers tightening in his hair as you rolled your hips, clit bumping against the tip of his nose.

Naturally, when Haechan was presented with a challenge, he’d make sure he’d win.

“Love it when you’re a little mean.”

The demon grinned something a little mean himself and it wasn’t long before you were crying out his name to the heavens. Some kind of bastardized prayer forced out by three of his deft fingers taking on a rough pace. Fucking into your sopping wet cunt and a mouth made of pure sin alternating between licking and sucking at your clit, all the while shaking his head to go in deeper, to have more of you until something builds.

Familiar heat simmered under your skin, body confused whether you wanted to wrench the demon’s insistent tongue away or keep him pressed against your wet heat to the point of exhausting him and yourself. Haechan made the decision for you though because somehow, it was like you were being held down, the same feeling of invisible velvet ropes coiling snugly around your waist, legs and all the way down to your ankles.

The lower half of your body was under his control, and all you could do was take, take and take until you were seeing white. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as a shaky, high-pitched moan falls from your slackened jaw. Your body went impossibly taught, thighs shaking as something more intense than your previous orgasms crashed onto you like a heavy wave, getting swept along the currents until you were certain you blacked out.

Perhaps just a few seconds of you floating about in limbo, then regaining lucidity at the sensation of Haechan petting your pussy, deeply immersed with his own fingers playing with the irregular spurts of liquid coming out of you. It was gross. It was sloppy. It was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“That’s one.” Haechan laughed, breathless and smug and the wicked glint in his gaze was enough to tell you he wasn’t done with you just yet.

“Care to give me more? I’m really hungry.”

This was going to be a long night.

V.

Realistically speaking, this was no one else’s fault but your own.

“I’m gonna be late.”

So fucking late that you could give less fucks of how you looked less put together than you normally were with skipping makeup altogether and putting on clothes that you thought was presentable, yet comfortable enough to get you through the day. Haechan wasn’t even able to get a word in with you rushing around.

Really, it was your fault. You could acknowledge that, yet there were times where you thought blaming your misfortunes on others was the way to go to feel better about yourself. Jaemin in particular, because of course he had to say something (read: make you realize a few things) to inflict a milder version of brain damage. And there was also Haechan, a glorified, overzealous leech who drained a smidge too much of your life force last night.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Oh, right.”

And maybe you were really out of it, mind not being all too present, nor did you really care to ask what it was exactly you forgot because you decided that the expectancy on the demon’s face and his permanent pouted lips were context clues hinting to something. Sleep-addled brain put two and two together, then your body decided to move first, crossing the short distance between you and the demon and pulling him down by the nape to slot your lips in between his. It was a firm press. Brief, yet sweet and smiling against his mouth was as easy as breathing when Haechan returned the warmth in earnest.

Then, it was like your brain decided to do a factory reset. A quick zap to the frontal lobe where you became more alert than necessary, peering up at Haechan with wide, shaking eyes when you roughly pulled away as if the kiss burnt.

“I was talking about your lunch,” he said after a beat, lifting the Kuromi lunch-bag with a coy smile, like he was biting back the urge to laugh. “but that works too.” He’s teasing you, appearing boyish with an arched eyebrow and you prayed for the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

Oh my fucking God.

“Right! Um—” you cut yourself short with a nervous laugh and numbly reached for it, totally ignoring how his eyes—right now, a close color to the embers from a campfire—were boring holes into you. “Lighter. This feels lighter and—smaller?”

“You catch on quick,” Haechan snorted. “Tell YangYang we’re going through a recession. He can’t share with you anymore if he knows what’s good for him.” Then, his eyes narrowed, still a touch teasing. “Should I be worried that you’re kissing him too?”

Your face was burning at this point.

“I’m leaving.”

You had never run away from a situation so quickly.

Breathing heavily, you slumped against a pillar in the small reception area of the apartment complex, heart racing at an unimaginable speed with the last thing you saw before you ran out of the apartment replaying over and over again: Haechan grinning to himself with his fingertips brushing against his lower lip.

He’s so… He. Is. So. You couldn’t even articulate the mess of emotions currently making your chest feel so tight. So tightly wound up like a watermelon with an obscene amount of rubber bands wrapped around it that if you had stayed longer, chances are you would have exploded into a mess of your feelings, splattered right at Haechan’s feet.

He just had to reciprocate the kiss, as if it was a natural response between people who had no exact label to what this was between them; and you fear that there was no way you’d be able to come back from that. Thinking about coming back home was already giving you cold feet.

Just as you were about to leave the building, your phone vibrated.

haechan 👹: babe? haechan 👹: you forgot your socks and shoes lol

Cold. Your feet were actually cold and looking down, your bare feet greeted you. The lack of two crucial items didn’t even register in your head from being so flustered.

you: . you: omw back haechan 👹: ok ! haechan 👹: do i get another kiss 👉🏼👈🏼 you: haechan. haechan 👹: sorry 🫡

There’s a shit-eating grin on the demon’s face.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

You slammed the door close behind you, feet now protected with the socks and shoes and your heart even less so.

“Um,” Yunjin started the moment she walked into a very peculiar setting of YangYang hovering unsure and awkwardly behind your slumped figure trying to permanently fuse into the table with Renjun seemingly unbothered by all of this, scribbling on his iPad. “What’s up with her?”

YangYang’s eyebrows pinched even further. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” He decided that a gentle approach wasn’t gonna cut it when you were about to keel over before any of them could figure out just why you were craving for the sweet release of death. Which, yeah, he could totally understand, but YangYang was nosy as all Hell before anything else and something like death could wait.

“She’s been like that for the past 10 minutes,” Renjun helpfully supplied before the other only guy in the room could wage psychological warfare. “Whining something about embarrassment, some hot guy in her apartment, feeling inadequate due to the pressure women face in society—“

“Hold on, what?”

“Feeling inadequate due to the—“

“No, dipshit, the one before that.”

“Some hot guy in her—” Renjun cut himself short and turned his head at breakneck speed to gape at you. “Since when were you seeing a guy?”

Yunjin’s face twisted, “you’re into guys?”

“A hot guy,” YangYang emphasized. “How big is his dick?”

“YangYang!” Yunjin hissed, bright orange hair whipping around wildly as she smacked him upside the head right when you answered with a resigned, “felt like I couldn’t breathe once.”

Yunjin looked like she had seen death altogether. “I already hate this conversation.”

Despite herself, Yunjin was all ears as you spilled the whole ‘hot guy’ situation; the dire details of Haechan and him being a century-something-old incubus being covered up by a multitude of lies. The most damning of them all being Haechan was an estranged friend you had recently reconnected with which landed you in the position of housing him for an indefinite amount of time.

And let’s not forget the recent development of you harboring real and scary feelings for a guy that had semi-permanently warmed your bed. In more ways than one.

This was sick and twisted. Haechan was supposed to be just some demon you’d occasionally sexualize, and now it felt wrong to do even that. You wanted to hold his hand. You wanted to wake up to his face everyday, marveling at the constellation of moles that stretched from neck to face forming Ursa Minor. You wanted to kiss him. His lips. His cute button nose. His cheeks—everywhere on his face until it was Haechan whining for you to stop.

(He’d probably let you continue anyway. You whined at the thought).

“Okay, but I don’t see how it’s a problem when you’ve done worse than kissing.”

“I kissed him before I left,” you whispered. “we aren’t even dating.”

“My condolences,” Yunjin said, gently patting your back.

You moaned, burying your face into your arms. “I wished we were dating.” Or whatever the Hellian equivalent was.

“... my condolences.” Yunjin said again, quieter, as Renjun let out the ugliest snort you didn’t think he was capable of producing. You always viewed him as someone with no flaws whatsoever. At least you now knew that he wasn’t that unreachable.

YangYang was a little more dramatic with his reaction, his eyes almost bugging out of their sockets and looking as if you had killed his first born. “It’s like I don’t even know you anymore! I didn’t even know you were seeing someone! What else have you been up to?”

“Well,” you shifted so that it was your cheek resting on your arms to properly talk to the three faces of varying curiosity (read: nosiness). “I’m unemployed now.”

“You quit your job?” YangYang’s eyebrows disappeared underneath his pink fringe. “Why? Aren’t you, like, poor? How’s that gonna work?”

Damn. He wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t need to put it like that.

“I hate being your friend,” Renjun said, on the verge of strangling the guy. “are you socially inept?”

“I mean, I was home schooled until 11th grade, so…”

“Anyways!” you decided to cut in, now sitting up properly to prevent a possible crime scene from happening when you caught Renjun’s eye twitch. “Yes, I quit my job. But I’ll be fine. I—” you also could not say that your expenses were being handled by a demon. “—gained financial support. No, I will not elaborate.”

“Is that the clinical way of saying you got a sugar daddy?”

Technically, yeah. “Please be quiet.”

“No, actually.” YangYang huffed and you tried to make him explode with your mind. “And since you’re, like, jobless now, this means you can party!”

“You barely had any time for us ‘cause of your insane schedule,” Yunjin interjected from the sidelines. “and since once is coming up, it’d be nice to experience our own overachiever throwing back shots.”

You wrinkled your nose. Not that it was a no-no, but when was the last time you went out drinking and/or partying with friends anyway? Drinking became an on-and-off thing with Haechan (Jaemin and his human sometimes joining in) and was the closest thing to a fun night, so you at least kept your tolerance in check. Experiencing Seoul’s nightlife though, you couldn’t say there were plenty of memories, or any that stood out to you.

“Plus, it’s a Halloween costume party!” said YangYang as he sat down beside you. Renjun and Yunjin doing the same across you. “And I know you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity of judging shitty costumes.”

“Not shitty ones. The ones barely putting any effort into making it look like a costume, however...”

“Same difference,” YangYang waved you off. “Drinks are on me if you come. Your boy-toy can tag along if he wants. Maybe seeing you slutting it up in a nurse costume would change his mind and actually put a label on you two.”

Okay, one, you were pretty sure that ‘slutty nurse’ was so last season and has been since the late 2010s, and two—

“Absolutely not.”

YangYang’s extended invitation was straight-up refused, and thus the recurring irony of temptation personified resisting temptation, a.k.a, free drinks.

(Putting a label on it was obviously out of the question).

“And I can pay for our drinks just fine.” Haechan scoffed, pupils flashing a momentary carmine in irritation. If YangYang were here, the ‘sugar daddy’ debacle would no less be the topic of discussion and something that would probably get the demon to soften up. “YangYang can shove his money up his ass.”

Never mind. You can already imagine an incubus and an imp duking it out in a dark alley somewhere. You’ve always wondered who’d win in a fight.

“So you’ll come?”

“No.”

“You’re so boring.”

And he was very adamant with his decision of not tagging along. In the days that led up to the party, Haechan’s answers had been firm variations of ‘no’s’. If you didn’t know any better, you would think the incubus was still jealous of the idea that YangYang, an imp, was friends with you (“he’s attached himself to you,” Haechan grumbled to himself. “I’m dragging him back to Hell myself.” You were way too baffled to even say anything) which then festered into immediate dislike.

“Oh, he’s totally jealous.” said Jaemin. Why you called Jaemin to complain about Haechan was honestly a new low for you, but he’s the one who knew the incubus on a deeper scale besides you, so. You made way more terrible decisions than this. “and petty too, I guess.”  

“He literally has no reason to be when I—” you gestured vaguely into the air, “you know…”

“Want him up your guts physically and emotionally?” Jaemin snorted. “yeah I got that.”

“Why do you talk like that—you know what, never mind. Point is, he’s being so unreasonable, and less fuckable the longer this goes on.”

“And you complain about the way I talk,” the demon laughed,  “Listen, Haechanie’s—he’s weird about feelings sometimes, I promise. It’s just… the mark. It says everything.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Ignorance is bliss,” Jaemin said, vaguely, with a charming smile that would usually distract anyone who only knew him on a surface level. You briefly fantasized reaching for him through the phone and strangling him to death. Knowing Jaemin though, he’d probably like it, the freak.

“What—asshole.” Jaemin hung up, FaceTime feed faded with his ridiculous contact image displayed, leaving you to ruminate your whirlwind of thoughts as you fell back onto the sheets.

The sun was almost always spoken with reverence. How its light breathed life into anything it touched. How its warmth was like a kiss from a lover—that sort of thing. Everyday, you wake up to the sun, one less warm than the other and as you lifted up your wrist to scrutinize Haechan’s sigil, its opaqueness against your skin was like facing an insult.

The technicalities of it all were almost headache inducing from how wishy-washy both demons were with it. All you knew was that the sun meant that you were Haechan’s. That was true in every way you could think of, but was he yours in return? You didn’t think he was. Maybe when you were tangled up in the sheets with him, but not when you were your own person anywhere else in apartment 66.

Haechan never did anything beyond imprinting his sigil onto your skin. Sex was just sex. It never went beyond a deeper, emotional scale and you would be lying if you said you were completely content with not having him wholly.

The first thing Haechan did as he burst into your bedroom was to laugh.

“You’re going in that?” he said through his giggles and doing a horrendous job at keeping them back even with a hand over his mouth. “nothing white, silky or lacy will cover the fact that you’ve let a demon corrupt you.”

“Fuck off.” You shot him an irritated look through the full-length mirror. “As if anyone knows I’ve been fucking a demon. An annoying one at that.”

“Ah-ah, angels aren’t supposed to cuss!”

“Get fucked,” you said, bored, and too focused on getting your make up right to pay attention to Haechan essentially eye-fucking you from the doorway. “It’s either this, or I go as a succubus. Turns out, I don’t want to be the very thing I hate.”

Which was, by the way, a total bold-faced lie where you could just tell Haechan wasn’t exactly buying it from the delighted smile he threw your way. Other than that, you looked cuter than if you had somehow settled with a cheap nurse gown. White, silky and lacy. Synonymous to anything inherently ‘angelic’ and something he would have fun in ruining to go with the whole concept of corrupting ‘the pure’.

“We would have matched, then.”

“We would,” you echoed. “But you aren’t even going.”

“I’m not,” he nodded and crossed the room to reach you. “At least I know you’re still coming home to me.”

It’s a mere fact, yet you’d like to think there was something more for you to pick apart. Warm hands perched on your hips and the way he seemed to take your reflection carefully, as if he was committing this dolled-up version of yours to memory with his gaze backlit by a strange amalgamation of emotions that were foreign to you. It wasn’t anything too alarming. If anything, all it did was make your heart skip a beat. A sweet face with eyes so intense you might as well drown in them. How could it not?

“You do live here.” Tilting your head, you gauged your own costume with your mouth drawn into a thin line, steeling yourself before you faced him and took on a coy approach. “Are you sure this is not convincing you enough?”

Haechan hummed.

Well…

If it were up to him, you wouldn’t even make it out of the bedroom, but he did commend your method of persuading him to come. A low chuckle rumbled from within the incubus as he was pushed onto the bed with you climbing on his lap and your lips locked with his. It was more tongue than anything else as Haechan took the reins. Slick, slow, but with purpose like he was speaking through each wet slide of his tongue.

You gently pushed him by the chest, separating with a loud smack and a deep exhale from you, “who’s convincing who again?”

“Me,” Haechan said with no preamble, dragging his lips down from your cheek to your throat. “This is me convincing you—crazy sex with me,” it’s ridiculous to think his proposition was sort of working. A very tempting offer right when his sharp canines teasingly poked at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, making you shudder. It’s what you were asking for, wasn’t it? Now he’s offering it on a silver platter with no hesitation. “or your dumb Halloween party? Take your pick.”

Decision making was the very last thing your mind could do at the moment when Haechan was hell-bent on keeping you where you were, and you weren’t really resisting him because if anything, you were making it a whole lot easier. Fingers tangled in the hair curling at his nape, a leg hooked over his hip, it won’t be long until you give in and spend the long Halloween night with him. 

Then the doorbell rang.

“That’s Yunjin,” you mumbled against his lips. “I really gotta go—are you hard from just kissing? Even that’s a new low for you.”

There’s a flush high on Haechan’s cheeks when he reluctantly pulled away with a pinched expression, his mouth smudged with your lipstick and for a moment, the choice of staying weighed heavy with the benefit of painting cherry red marks on his beautiful skin.

“Can you blame me?” Heachan chewed on his lip before he huffed when the doorbell rang again, a petulant pout sitting on his lips. “The silk looks so easy to rip off and it’s an actual crime that you’re leaving me.”

“You are such a dude,” you laughed, a little winded as you pushed him off and rushed towards the mirror to assess the damage. “Ugh, you smudged my lipstick and like, a bit of my face makeup,” you groaned which was immediately replied with a click of a tongue.

“You’re the one who pushed me on the bed, so… hardly my fault.”

Heat crept up your neck, “semantics.”

“It’s really not that hard to admit that you want me. Your actions say enough.” 

“Maybe it’s just your mag—”

“It’s not my magic, and it’s not my sigil doing it either.”

Well, that excuse was good while it lasted. You couldn’t think of anything else to say and so you settled with rolling your eyes as your version of raising your white flag as you made work with fixing up yourself, ignoring Haechan’s leering.

“You are actually so bad at being honest,” he complained as he got up and trudged towards you. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

You arched an eyebrow, but let him wrap his arms around your waist. “Are you saying I’m just a pretty face?”

“Darling, that’s an entirely different sentence.” He sighed, hooking his chin onto your shoulder as he squeezed. “I didn’t say that. I’m just saying that you can always tell me anything and I mean anything.”

“Anything?” You repeated and he nodded, earnest. “Okay, would you mind distracting Yunjin for a bit? She gets impatient.”

You yelped when Haechan nipped your ear out of nowhere. “Not what I meant,” he grumbled, but did as he was told anyways.

“Hey,” Haechan caught your wrist before you were out of the door, Yunjin waiting outside. “Stay safe, alright?”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d just come, y’know.”

The incubus pulled you back with a snort, “you’re never letting me live that down, huh?”

“Never.” He rolled his eyes, leaning down to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll see you later.”

“Girl, you are beyond saving,” Yunjin giggled as she looped her arm through yours right after you pulled the door close. “C’mon, before you start clawing through your own door.”

Haechan was definitely onto something when he said he was a homebody above anything else.

That’s one of the few things you had in common with the incubus in spite of your busy schedule built around your academics, clubs, committees and your tutoring sessions and coming home to a place that radiated warmth was a great compromise from having, more or less, busy days. Perhaps it was the reason why you felt so attached to apartment 66.

And the one time you had willingly traded comfort for a fun night out was where you found yourself in deep shit.

To be fair, the night started off great. This wasn’t your usual scene as you much preferred something a little more intimate rather than being suffocated by wriggling bodies, but the place was nice; one of the more upscale clubs and you supposed you were getting your time’s worth from YangYang making good on his promise. Free shit was the best shit and in no time, every single one of you drank like everything was water. Even the dubious mix of shots you’d normally avoid were thrown back with little resistance.

At some point in the night, right after you had your fill of dancing with your friends, all of you went your separate ways which you had no idea how that even happened when you had practically stuck yourself to Yunjin.

Now, you were completely alone and maybe you were drunker than you had expected to be, because somehow, the people wearing costumes of the creepy crawly creatures from all sorts of tales and legends looked a little too real for comfort. It’s either these were insanely talented art students dabbling in prosthetics for fun, or the guy that just walked by was actually a troll, since, of course supernaturals wouldn’t shy away from a party that sort of celebrated them and the dead. 

(Also, you didn’t think anyone would willingly consider ‘troll’ as a costume choice, but to each their own).

You were buzzing from head to toe, eyelids becoming heavier by the second as your vision started to blur around the edges, the drowsiness slowly creeping in. You’ve always been a sleepy drunk, chatty at times too, but there wasn’t anyone in close proximity that was deserving of your rambling. None of your friends were in sight and the eerie feeling of being watched caused goosebumps to raise on your skin.

And this wasn’t remotely close to what you’ve experienced back home before you were made aware of Haechan. While the incubus you were essentially playing an R-rated version of house with meant no harm, this—whatever this was—felt sinister.

Everywhere you went, the lingering feeling of eyes stayed on your person. A prey being sized up by an apex predator hidden in plain sight and it was so apparent that some sobriety decided to grace you, pushing you to try and call your friends. Try being the keyword here because of-fucking-course none of them had sober enough braincells to pick up a damn phone call. So you did the next best thing: leave.

Everything in you was screaming for you to leave. Do not, under any other circumstances, look back even if this one guy who you bumped into was dressed as some socially acceptable furry. The dog ears were too real to be a headband, not to mention the wagging tail.

Which brings you back in the present: you being in deep shit.

In your defense, you did run out of there like you’ve never had run before. But obviously, you weren’t as fast as you needed to be. A careless miscalculation and now you were trapped—by the very thing you were warned about.

The brick walls dug into the back of your head and your shoulder blades as you let out a hiss, teeth gritting as this monster wrapped its claws around your throat and pushed you further into the jagged wall.

“It’s like you humans have a death wish.” 

You were barely a step past the nearest alley from the club when you were roughly dragged into the dank space, mind all over the place with an escape plan barely formed. Actually, you don’t think you can come up with one right now. Or ever.

“I’m a little hungry anyways.”

Okay so maybe you took back the whole ‘not being scared of most things normal people were scared of’ thing because you were, in fact, scared of dying. In an alley of all places. Terror. Sheer, unadulterated terror washed over you like a bucket of ice-cold water. Frozen, unable to do anything but let the claws leave scratches on your skin that you might as well be staring Death right in the face.

Death was a burly man—a head taller than you at most. Death was nothing, yet everything where it was kind of hard to discern just what he was. The alley was dark, but he was darker from the shadows acting like second skin as its inky haze rose and fell, tendrils made of smoke reaching for nothing in particular. The very same thing it would do when Haechan took on this exact form. Then it all clicked.

Death to you was a demon.

The kind you were not at all familiar with. The kind you knew had eyes that glowed with warmth, this one burned with the intent to hurt. Maim. Kill. The one you come home to every day greeted you with a smile just as warm as the sunset that peaked through the curtains he bought, this one grinned like the monsters parents would tell naughty children about, teeth razor sharp that were enough to tell you that he’s meant to use them to rip you apart.

The one you would willingly break yourself apart for breathed life into you. This one was about to take yours and then break you apart by his own hands—by his own claws. 

Haechan would never, this monster would and just like Death, it didn't wait for anything and its claws sunk into your side, ripping out a pained scream from your lungs as you struggled fighting back against. The monster only laughed and laughed, and laughed until hot tears streamed down your cheeks from the searing pain.

“That’s right, human,” he cackled. “Scream.”

God, did it hurt. The pain was unimaginable that you couldn’t even think of anything to compare it to and—Oh God. Haechan. How the Hell were you going to explain all this when you’re dead? Knowing him, it’s more than likely he’d avenge you, but how will he when he doesn't even know who had done this to you? It’s not like he could ask Satan for a list of all demons who were out on Halloween night, preying on innocent humans.

You would have laughed right at this moment honestly. Funny that even death could not stop you from thinking of the demon waiting for you at home. Maybe you should have just stayed in with him to save him all the trouble. Maybe this would have been the night where you told him he wasn’t just the incubus you’d call for when you had the extra energy to burn in bed. Maybe this would have been the night where you would confess that you’ve grown to care for him more than you should have.

Your mind called for Haechan. Your heart called for Haechan. Everything in you called for Haechan that you didn’t even realize you were actually calling out for him, much to the monster’s confusion as he stared at the glowing spot on your wrist.

With each second passing, you grew weaker and weaker, yet you still had a stubborn grip on consciousness because 1.) the claws stuck into your side hurt like a fucking bitch that you simply refused to pass out and 2.) If you were going to die, you at least hoped that the universe listened to you one last time and granted you a few extra minutes with Haechan to say your goodbyes.

Then the strangest thing happened.

Call it divine intervention, if you will, because one second, the demon was right in front of you. Tall and menacing and was so close to going in for the jugular where his breath ghosted against your décolleté, then he was toppled over by a blurry mass of smoke the next, like the monster’s burly build was nothing. The biggest ones fall the hardest after all.

It hurt less now. Barely bearable on the pain scale as you sagged against the brick wall, sliding all the way down until you were sitting with a hand pressing tightly against the bleeding wound once you remembered a post online that it would help to buy some time until you were brought to the hospital or something.

The scuffling then caught your attention, followed by curses and shouting in a language you didn’t understand. Though you knew enough to tell that both were angry, Haechan being the angriest you have ever heard him.

“Haechan,” you gasped, taking in the sight with widened eyes of the incubus lowered to a crouch and having the monster in a chokehold.

Both their backs were turned to you and only Haechan had the capacity to peer over his shoulder and there you saw it: pure rage contorting his face with his mouth drawing into an ugly sneer at the state of you. White slowly being stained by the redness of blood just as the shadows rapidly enveloped Haechan’s figure with your attacker struggling to break free from his hold.

“Close your eyes.”

It was demanded by a voice that was not his own, but a myriad of voices of all ranges entangled that left no room for any argument and so you did as he asked. Nothing came after that. A few seconds delay at most before the scuffling against the ground resumed, the same enraged snapping from your attacker as Haechan hissed and fought back with some choice words and expletives you haven't heard of ever.

Haechan spoke again, rage still present in the same unknown language with a level of finality. Almost like a threat and promise molded into one until the monster’s incessant squabbling was put to a stop after a sickening snap, loud even with the Halloween party goers littering the streets at this time of night that it made you flinch, your eyes still remaining closed. You just knew you wouldn’t want to see whatever Haechan did to the thing.

A wet and heavy thump. Followed by an exasperated sound that was somewhat of a mix between a huff and sigh. At the sound of his shoes dragging against the cement, still you kept your eyes shut and it wasn’t until warm hands cradled your damp cheeks did you finally open them.

Even in the dimness of the alley, Haechan still retained that unnatural glow to him. Beautiful, hauntingly so that the splatters of blood across his face did nothing but elevate it all. His eyebrows pinched together in concern as he took your hand that was pressed against the spot where you bled and cursed softly at the gnarly sight.

“Next time, I’m coming with you.” You could hear his voice tremble, but you didn’t comment on it and instead let him gather you up in his arms, minding your side as he pressed his forehead against yours. “Hell, you scared me. I was with Jaemin and out of nowhere, I started feeling anxious. I couldn’t breathe and—and I felt like I was stabbed.”

Your own eyebrows pinched at the information too. Those were everything you felt during that unwanted encounter with that demon that you sure hoped was gone. “How’d you even find me?” You didn’t think he would find you in some gross alley in Gangnam by pure intuition alone.

“This,” Haechan said as the blunt edge of his nail traced the inked sun on your wrist. “My sigil isn’t just for show, y’know. It’s like a warp point. I even heard you calling out to me. You sounded like you were in trouble.” 

Well, yes. That was obvious. “I’m just glad I didn’t become, like, a midnight snack. Thanks to the sun acting as an AirTag, basically.” You chuckled, leaning your head against the brick wall. “With extra features.”

Haechan laughed, softly, and leaned in to press his lips to your cheek. “Yeah, basically.”

That at least improved his mood. You weren’t entirely used to the very rare instances where Haechan had to be serious. It was strange to see him like that when you would always leave it up to him, lifting up the mood whenever you thought was necessary. Perhaps you and your near death experience was too much even for him. That maybe he did care for you just as much as you did him and making him laugh was the least you could do. 

“Grandma was right.” you joked, cracking a smile just as he assessed the damage. “The city isn’t too safe.” 

“It really isn’t, but you have me. You’ll always have me.” and he spoke with so much promise, gaining some distance just enough for him to stare into your eyes, amber trading in for a deep carmine. And it was only right to believe him. “Whenever and wherever, I will be there when you need me.”

“You’re sweet,” you smiled, then winced when reality came crashing with the stinging pain in your side. “but can we get out of here? Do I need to go to the hospital, or can you somehow heal me with your freaky demon magic?”

Haechan then gets this constipated sort of look. “I can’t exactly heal humans. I can only slow down the residual magic that fucker left from spreading and—um…”

“And? Why are you hesitating.” The incubus pursed his lips, eyes straying to the side. “That’s not good. That’s never good. You never hesitate when you talk to me.”

He chewed on his lower lip before answering and you did not like the look on his face. “From a scale of 1-10, how pissed will you be if I tell you that you could die if we don’t get that out of you?”

“A solid 9.5,” you said almost immediately. “Get this shit out of me right now.”

“Right,” the pain dwindled down to something less painful, but still rather uncomfortable as Haechan’s glowing hand pressed against the wound. “Can you try calling Renjun?”

“I tried earlier. Not sure if he’ll pick up now.”

“Damn. How about Chenle?”

“I’m… not actually sure, but I’ll try.” You paused, suspicious. “Why though?”

“You’re not gonna believe this.”

“I can’t fucking believe this,” you moaned in slight discomfort as Haechan set you on the bed. “You’re telling me these two are witches? How do you even know Renjun?”

“I’ve known him since I moved here for college. He supplies me with the weirder shit I need for my potions,” Renjun appeared like he either swallowed something sour, or he actually felt guilty hiding this from you and leaving you all alone. A stark juxtaposition from Chenle, visibly buzzing with excitement. “You didn’t tell me you were sleeping with an incubus.”

“Aw babe,” said incubus cooed. “you talk to your friends about us?”

You grunted, lifting up your top to reveal the still bloody wound. “Now is really not the time."

“It’s a good thing you called right away, or else you’d be fucked to Hell and back,” Chenle chirped and he looked between you and Haechan knowingly in a way that warmed up your cheeks. “Then again, guess you already have been.” He grinned, almost cat-like.

You stared at the ceiling. It’s like everyone around you had no concept of what a verbal filter was. “Are you gonna heal me or not?”

Chenle got a smack on the head for that, whining softly as Renjun retracted his hand. “Sorry about him. He’s my apprentice.” The older witch said, almost resigned and folded both of his sleeves up. “Explains the whole transferee thing. He couldn’t bother to wait—may I?” Renjun gestured to your wound just as he jerked his head for Chenle to do the same.

“Go crazy. I think it’s catching up to me.”

You were starting to slur your words. Not to mention how weak you were starting to feel that you couldn’t even wiggle your limbs. You were burning up and with the panic on Haechan’s face no less, Renjun and Chenle got to work. Both of their hands glowing a bright green with Renjun pressing his fingertips along the tender skin.

“That is not very pleasant,” you said, grimacing at the sensation of tiny needles poking and prodding along your side. “Yeah, no. I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“Sleep,” Haechan stressed, a hand stroking your calf. “You’ll feel less like shit in the morning.”

“Fine. Don’t go anywhere or I’ll kill you.” You mumbled, fading as the magic continued to cleanse you of whatever vile magic that was. Maybe that’s why it kind of hurts. Renjun and Chenle’s combined magic were technically cleaning it out.

Haechan laughed, smiling sweetly. “Wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.”

Renjun gagged. “Disgusting.”

That was all you needed to hear, and so you slept.

Contrary to popular belief, you were never a morning person. Otherwise, you would have done something about it if you weren’t so fixed with the overloaded schedule you had been following since the start of your college career.

This morning wasn’t safe from your contempt either as last night’s happenings came flooding back into your head. The chase, the attack and somehow getting saved in the nick of time. The panic from narrowly avoiding death from weird demon magic then Renjun and Chenle coming in clutch with sucking that shit out with their own purified magic and healing the stab wounds.

All in all, wild night. Never doing that again unless Haechan tagged along to protect you from the elements (see: hungry-for-humans supernaturals).

Though you supposed the mentioned incubus made this morning a little worth waking up. Your body was almost out of commission from how it aches, but your eyes worked perfectly fine. Maybe a little crusty, but even the eye crust couldn’t block how gorgeous Haechan could be underneath the warm glow of the late morning sun. It was almost unreal, like a dream come to life.

Heachan’s bare back was to you, sun-drenched and moles generously kissing his broad shoulders and down the length of his smooth back as if a past lover had done everything in their power to mark the love they had for him in small and permanent little dots. Though your admiration had to cut itself short when you had caught sight of something that you hadn’t noticed before right as the covers shifted downwards to show more of him.

Just at the top of his boxer briefs sat two dark lines that were at least half a centimeter wide and a couple of inches long—the length of your palm perhaps, sitting on the opposite sides of his spine where you’d think the dimples of his back would have been.

Curious, you reached out, only to be stopped by Haechan catching your wrist.

“Getting handsy with me already?” Haechan inhaled a slow breath before yawning as he stretched and shifted to lie on his back, your wrist still in his hand now resting on the bare skin of his stomach. Smooth and warm with sleep that you unconsciously moved closer, his other hand tracing your spine. “Good morning to you too.” He said with a sleepy smile, eyes curved like crescent moons as he gazed down at you simply watching him—adoring him in his sleepy state.

Words simply could not find their way to you at the moment, so you only managed a hum, rubbing your nose against his skin.

He sighed at the feeling, “what were you doing?”

“Just looking. You have lots of moles. Kinda like constellations,” you mused, which pulled out an amused huff from Haechan, letting go of your wrist for you to wrap an arm around his waist. “There are also these… lines above your ass? Cuts? Scars? What’s that about?”

“This is the least sexiest conversation we���ve had so far.”

“Stop deflecting,” you said, placing a hand on his chest for your chin to rest on, scrutinizing the creeping hesitance on his person. “and tell me what they are.”

It went quiet. Silence filling in the spaces seemed to be a frequent thing now as you watched Haechan process everything that had transpired within the last five minutes with his face. Thoughts easily floating up to the surface by each pinch of his eyebrows, or twitch of his lips and then settling with a conceding sigh, peering down at you with little hesitance that soon crumbled into nothing when he was met by your own resilience. 

“Up for a little bit of show and tell?”

That was going to be a bit one-sided. You had nothing to show. Nothing unique in that regard, that is, as you were, in every sense of the word, human. Painfully human. Comparing yourself with the likes of Haechan who had been part of countless tales told throughout centuries was like pitting a diamond (Haechan) against a sheet of metal (you). Like, yeah, both had their own uses, but diamonds were on a higher, more exclusive pedestal and out of reach. 

And Haechan was just that to you. Out of reach, and yet somehow, he had no qualms on closing the distance himself. As if it was natural for him to be this close to the point of considering the idea that you are simply the extensions of each other.

At the very least, you were right in assuming ‘show and tell in the bedroom’ was a one-sided thing. You were also right that Haechan would take this whole thing in stride; being the sole presenter for this morning’s shenanigans involving the very reason why he wouldn’t fuck you until you were a moaning, whimpering and crying mess. A miracle, really, that you’ve managed to survive the unwanted ‘Only Oral October’ challenge the incubus had going on.

Golden skin stretched miles over Haechan’s lithe and slim figure. Moles and freckles carelessly, yet artfully speckled along the expanse of sunshine while you laid on your back—manhandled to do so—simply admiring the incubus sitting on his haunches between the spread of your thighs without the faintest clue of what there was to show. You were already aware of the horns sprouting from his head and the arrowhead tail languidly swishing behind him. What else was there?

“What are you showing me exactly?”

“Just… wait.” his lips pressed together into a thin line. “I’m mentally preparing myself for this one.”

Okay, that was very ominous, much like how Jaemin tip-toed around the conversation pertaining to Haechan’s prior incapability of sticking his dick into your hole and you were kind of getting antsy with the way he was dragging this out, gatekeeping his everything from you.

You ended up pouting and Haechan, who usually would fold at the sight of it, only narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t that supposed to be me? You look like you’re trying to take a shit.”

Haechan sputtered, “am not! You’re so annoying.”

“What can I say? To be fucked, is to be changed.”

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes,” he shook his head, face settling into absolute seriousness. “You sure about this?”

A click of your tongue. “Don’t make me beg.”

There’s an odd shine to his eyes, but it was gone the moment Haechan straightened his back as he stayed quiet. It was faint, but the hissing sound gradually grew louder just as a cloud of smoke materialized somewhere behind him. The smoke grew considerably darker and darker until it was the same inky black you’ve grown accustomed to whenever Haechan donned it as second skin, gradually becoming corporeal as it took on the shape—multiple shapes of something long, dark as the night sky with a sheen to them as they elongated above Haechan’s head. Writhing and curling in different lengths and girths merely floating about, as if they were waiting for the incubus’ instructions.

Though one of them seemed to have a mind of its own, Haechan appeared to be aware of it, the very picture of exasperation as it wriggled closer to you.

“Oh that feels weird,” you mumbled in wonder, watching a tendril, as thick as two of your fingers combined, wound around your wrist, palm and a finger. The feel of it was strange. Warm, velvety smooth and it was slicked with a viscosity foreign to you, but it made the glide easier against your skin all the same. “What are you exactly?”

Haechan easily chuckled at the question. Probably a frequent subject among his previous conquests. “A nightmare come to life? I don’t think you’ll like me as much for what I truly am under all of this. While this human form gets the much needed attention, it’s also a good distraction from all this too,” he said, gesturing to the rest of the ghostly limbs inching toward you.

You hummed, agreeing with the attention part, and particularly feeling a little honest, “you're a beautiful nightmare, I can give you that,” and you can’t help but laugh at his preening. He knew he was gorgeous in every sense of it, but this was Haechan and you know of him to be a bit of a whore for attention. “As a distraction? I don’t think your face can distract me from these,” and it was then did the tendrils of smoke found purchase around your limbs. 

“It’s just like being surrounded by more of you and—oh.” You stuttered to a stop when another particularly handsy tentacle slithered under your shirt, winding around the fullness of your right breast and pulling a sharp gasp when the slick tip rubbed and flicked at the hardened bud. “Fuck. That’s still so fucking weird. You aren’t even doing anything but—” the thought was cut off by a whine of your own and another one joined the fray, giving your other tit the same treatment just as Haechan bunched up your shirt to reveal the smooth skin being tainted by darkness underneath. “Do they—do they have a mind of their own?”

It took Haechan a beat too long to answer, visibly taken by his extra limbs exploring your bare torso. “Sometimes. But I’m in full control now.”

Right on cue, the tendrils creeped up your thighs like climbing plants with the goal to cover everything in sight, only these acted more as sentient ropes that spread your legs wider to accommodate the incubus. This was a position you were accustomed to as Haechan did try to have you as frequent as you’d let him, yet you couldn’t help but feel shy. Embarrassed at the fact that there wasn't much for you to do in lessening the exposure with the tentacles keeping your legs in place, and you weren’t even stripped down to your barest.

With the way Haechan’s heated gaze raked the length of your body spread across the sheets, you could just tell his own imagination ran the wildest it could be, what with his eyes essentially devouring you. Haechan then leaned forward, close enough that you could feel his breath hot on your lips, as the rest of the smoky tendrils followed and attached themselves to your arms resting on either side of your head.

With how they wound tighter around your forearms, you had a faint idea on what was to come. And it wasn’t like you were against relinquishing all control for Haechan to take over, to do what he pleased. Nonetheless, the thought still had your heart rate picking up. This was new and you were starting to think that maybe you bit off more than you could chew with the subtle insistence of wanting Haechan to fuck you hard enough that you’d cry.

You just didn’t think tentacles would be involved. An unlikely variable you never would have guessed to be the center of the demon’s reluctance. No wonder he was wishy-washy with his reasons, they looked like something out of an all-consuming nightmare that most people would have been put off by. A beautiful one if it included their host.

As if sensing your troubles—his sigil’s doing, definitely—a warm palm cradled your jaw as Haechan dipped down for a sweet kiss to soothe you.

“I won’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with,” he reassured, pulling back. “just think of them as extra pairs of arms holding you down.”

“Well, more of you to get used to, then,” you said with a wry smile and finding a little bit of comfort when he puts more of his weight onto you for another kiss, mumbling, “I can take it.”

And so you did.

One, that is. Baby steps, as Haechan put it as one fucked in and out of your cunt in place of his fingers. The feeling was an odd mix of familiar and strange. Familiar as it did the job of pistoning in and out of you like those machines in porn (not that you had any experience besides the demon’s long and knobby fingers doing basically the exact same thing). Strange because it wasn’t what a dildo nor an actual cock would feel like, but fuck if it didn’t feel good. Mind-blowingly so. The considerable length reached places you nor Haechan’s fingers couldn’t within their limits, proved by the guttural groan punched out of you when the tip had accidentally bumped against your cervix.

But even you could run out of patience. This was literally just an elevated version of what you and Haechan had been doing. Time and time again, it was all basically foreplay and you’ve had enough.

This time, you wanted the real thing.

You wanted to be split on Haechan’s cock that hung heavily in between the mouthwatering honey thighs if it’s the last thing you’ll ever have.

“Want you,” you managed to get out between the stray moans and whimpers that fell from your parted lips.

“Hm?” If you were any less than horny, the wicked grin he had would have been smacked off. “But you do have me, see?” He cooed, thumb stopping from rubbing circles on your clit for his fingers wriggling in to join alongside the thin tentacle making work of your pussy. “Are you saying this isn’t enough?”

You shook your head, almost frantic as one of your arms struggled to break free from the tendrils. “Want this,” you stressed, reaching for his dick. The head was almost a deep angry purple from how hard he was and it was beyond you how his self-control lasted this long. Did he even feel pleasure when the extra limb was doing all the work? “Want you.”

“Say that again?” He egged on further, like it wasn’t obvious that he was just as desperate. You knew him enough to see right through the facade he puts up. “You want what, sweet girl?”

“Want you. Want you to fuck your cock in me. Please.”

“You say the sweetest things, human. It’s adorable,” He cooed. “and it’s just right that I give you everything you ask,” and Haechan sealed his promise with a filthy kiss. Harsh and wet that you were certain a mix of your spit drooled down your chin, only for him to lap it up with his tongue and make a mess of your mouth again.

“No more foreplay,” you said as you somehow managed to keep him from sticking his tongue down your throat again. “Seriously, that’s all we’ve been doing before. I can take it.”

And just like the very night things had escalated in the sexual sense, Haechan inclined his head and smiled.

“That night, I said that I wanted you to ride me.”

The nights of all nights. How could you forget? It had imprinted a very clear image into the seams of your brain that you’d occasionally daydream about the various possible outcomes if you hadn’t been rudely interrupted.

“Think you can do that for me now?”

Everything went by so fast that you weren’t given the chance to take a breath. In a blink of an eye, Haechan had both of your clothes removed and traded places with you by the guidance of the pitch black tendrils and the ones winding up the length of your arms loosened to let you bend forward and capture his lips just because. It always felt nice to kiss him, and you wouldn’t shy away from cashing one in at a crucial time to give yourself a little more time to brace yourself.

It took the both of you to get to the real thing. A team effort with you reaching in between your legs to align his cock to your center while Haechan and co. kept you steady with his hands clutching at your waist so tight that you were sure was going to leave finger-shaped bruises to fade over time. Quickly, if and if the demon kept his hands from wandering to the tender spots, but you could worry about that next time when there are more pressing matters at hand.

The sound Haechan made was almost inhuman just as a gasp flew past your mouth the second the glossy thick head of his cock breached your pussy. Inch by inch, you took him in as carefully as you could as it was an uncomfortable stretch for sure, given the experience you had gagging on it one too many times. Most of them being on pure impatience on your part and you weren’t going to risk a possible injury tonight. But just as the many times before, pleasure gradually overtook the discomfort.

“Oh my God,” you moaned, a high sound as you threw your head back. Nails digging into the meat of Haechan’s pecs as you rocked yourself to suck him in impossibly deeper, almost to the point of carving his shape into you and ruining yourself for any other man.

(You already did anyway. Developing real scary feelings for a literal Hell spawn).

“Oh, you’re into that?” Haechan quipped, hissing when you squeezed around him for his cheek. “I can be for you. How many times have you gotten on your knees for me again?”

Did he really have to antagonize you when you were milking him for what he’s worth? “Clearly not enough if you’re still talking.”

Haechan soon lost all sense of eloquence that should have been fit for a century-something-old demon once settling on a pace where the most you would get from was an incoherent sentence or two that you were sure were meant to be praises. Though you figured the pretty picture Haechan painted himself with the pleasure filled contort of his face was enough to say that you were doing something right. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be right behind him feeling blissed out yourself.

It was everything you could ask for really. The delicious girth of his cock stretching your cunt, rubbing against the sweet spots of your gummy walls had you sobbing his name when he would meet your movements in the middle. Skin slapping against skin leaving a mild tingling sensation from each bounce.

The heady pleasure only increased from there as the same pair of tendrils that toyed with your breasts resumed with their earlier ministrations of squeezing their fullness and flicking your nipples. A sneaky one, thinnest of them all had joined in on the fun too. Wrapping around Haechan’s dick like a coil and it wasn’t until you felt the ridges from your descent on his length did you even realize what had happened. Either way, it still felt good and soon enough, something warm simmered beneath your navel.

“Ah—Haechan,” you gasped, your movements becoming more frantic each time the combination of him and the tendril rubbed against your sweet spot. “I think… close,” you slurred, losing all strength as you fell forward, almost breaking your nose on his collarbone if it weren't for the tendrils keeping their steady hold around you. “Can’t,” it came out as a whine breathed against Haechan’s burning skin. “Please.”

That might have just triggered something in him, a visceral reaction of the demon growling—a sound that definitely wasn’t possible for a human to make—as his presence became so imposing, smothering you to the point that all of your senses were filled to the brim by everything Haechan. He wrestled you onto your back as if you were nothing more than a ragdoll with the back of your knees hooked onto his sturdy shoulders and in no time, you were effectively brought to tears by the brutal pistoning of his hips.

You were steadily growing overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations that ignited a simmering fire that spread underneath your skin. Mouth curling around each syllable of the demon’s name as you wailed with your back bowing against the bed when Haechan angled his hips, punching out a loud cry, bordering on a scream.

“Shh,” Haechan cooed as his thumb pressed onto your lower teeth to pry your mouth open, eyes wild and a wicked grin plastered on his face at the incoherent state that you were in. “You’re so loud. Our walls aren’t exactly soundproof, baby. I think I’m gonna have to shut you up if you can’t do it yourself.”

How? Was what you were going to ask if his thumb wasn’t pressing down onto your tongue, drool pooling in your mouth in almost an instant. Something else prodded against your lower lip and as you looked down the same two-fingered thick tendril slid into your mouth to replace his thumb, Haechan delighted as you moaned around the slick appendage shallowly thrusting in and out past your swollen lips.

You felt so full. Both your mouth and your cunt stuffed full that you thought it was a little fucked that you were enjoying the one rubbing against the flat of your tongue. The mysterious slick that coated it was surprisingly sweet, alomst candy-like and matching the citrusy sweet scent lingering around you 24/7.

You’ve never felt so fucked out ever in your life. This couldn’t even be compared to the past rounds of sex you’ve had with humans. This was an entirely different league on it’s own and fucking Hell, you were officially ruined. You just knew you wouldn’t be able to feel the same level of satisfaction from a human anymore, not when Haechan was capable of stimulating you in multiple ways by his own volition. For a brief moment, you couldn’t help but feel a little envious of the people who had had him like this.

It was all so good. Too good, yet so overwhelming in every way and it wasn’t long before you wailed to completion, body seizing up as your vision whitened and leaving Haechan to chase his own release.

“You weren’t lying when you said you could take it,” Haechan chuckled, sounding breathless as his hand pressed down onto your navel to punch out a groan from you. “I’m so sorry for taking so long.” He soothed just as your mouth was freed so he could kiss you in apology.

He stayed that way. Close, ever so close that you were essentially breathing into each other’s mouths as Haechan’s thrusts grew frantic, almost animalistic until he pressed so tightly against your skin to spill thick ribbons of his cum into you, filling you up the brim that it leaked out even through the tight fit of his cock, wincing at the mess your sheets would soon be subjected to.

For a while, the only sounds that filled the bedroom were you both catching your breaths in sync, yours more labored while Haechan was more controlled.

“How are you feeling?” He asked quietly moments later when he thought you had come down from the floaty headspace you were in. “Wasn’t too much?”

“Perfect,” you sighed, tucking yourself closer into him. “Just perfect.”

“Donghyuck.”

“Hm?”

Haechan’s magic had once again proved to be a useful asset in this home. It didn’t take that much time for both of you to recuperate from being fucked within an inch of your life, though he stuck to more traditional methods when it came to taking care of you. The sheets were decidedly changed with his magic, while he took it upon himself to clean both of you up with a hot shower where you might have fallen asleep once or twice on your feet.

It was a few minutes after noon. Lunch was had and you were sprawled across the couch where you had been made into a human cushion by Haechan, laying on top of him and simply basking in the stillness of the apartment until he spoke.

“Donghyuck was my name as a human.” He said, tilting his head with a smile void of anything that made him devious in nature. Something warm and sweet and reserved just for you. “Before becoming this. There’s this saying that knowing a demon’s name gives you power over it and I—I marked you. Made you mine without asking first and I think it’s fair that I give you my name. Give you me in return.”

That gave you a start, stiffening as you stared at him with owlish eyes and not quite believing the possible implications.

“Does that mean—”

“I am yours, as much as you are mine,” he said, warm palms holding your cheeks as he sat up to meet you in the middle. “As long as you want me to be.”

There was much more left to be said, certainly, but the way Haechan—Donghyuck kissed you so deeply as if you were his only life-line, pouring every thought and possible feelings that paralleled yours into each swipe of his tongue was enough. You had all the time in the world with him, an actual talk could wait.

For now, as you let yourself be wrapped into his embrace, this was enough.

Special thanks to Aria, Moon and Aeriel for putting up with my ramblings about this fic and sharing their ideas! You have no idea how much of help u have been and I’m very thankful for you guys letting me talk my shit 🫶🏼💖 and thank you for reaching the end of this fic! Especially to the ones who asked to be on the taglist! I know it was a longer wait than expected so I really do hope it was worth it 💖

TAGLIST: @jaylaxies @hoondrop @ajayke-reads @justalildumpling @dammit-jjk @maiisweet @jenodreamer @hancafe @gyulfriend @pleasetellmenow @cutiepeas @jaehyunpeachyy @alethea-moon @ohmyhuenings @sexygrass @favjake @02mrk @seulkikiii @notevenheretbh1 @rum-gone-why @minkyuncutie @crzns @saythenameseventeen178 @nae-vm @90s-belladonna @hismine @learnthisfeeling @taerifin @viciousdarlings @strawbabyz @novawon @surrealxox @xenkimmie @lanadreamie

[quarterlifekitty]

Hi! could you possibly write something about a fuckboy!soap and shy!reader that he uses for sex, and she keeps letting him? im craving angsty angst ANGST that just keeps hurting…you don’t have to if you don’t want to and thank you if you do! Have a great day!

Okay, one thing you all should know about me? Is that I’m a weenie lol so I can’t help but make things a little hopeful most of the time. Also— gonna make this like a college type AU

Soap clocks you from a mile away when he sees you at a party. There’s a cup of beer in your hand that you’ve been nursing, just sipping to have something to do while you cling to the side of the friend who forced you to come.

He’s seen you in his classes before. You’re good. Not the type to be seen in a place like this. And that kinda whets his appetite. He wants to fuck you, break you, make you fall apart for his own amusement.

He nudges Gaz— they have the routine down to a science— splitting up the birdies that are a little too huddled together so they can have their way with them. Gaz runs interference this time, Johnny mouthing an “I owe ye” his way— chatting up and pulling your friend away to talk a bit more. You’re alone now, and Johnny swoops in, weaving through people on a warpath.

He corners you expertly, and you’re a pathetically easy read. Easy to tease, to coax, to push. He just has to throw in a few lines about how pretty you look, peppered between him saying he’s always wanted to talk with you, always admired you in class— he gives just enough detail to lull you into thinking this is courting. That he’s going to fuck you because he likes you.

Works like a charm. Always does. You clumsily follow him to his room—“Ye didnae ken? This is my fraternity’s house, bonnie,”— as he pulls you along by the hand.

He enjoys pulling you apart. Like the birds taking Prometheus’s liver. He’s not a complete animal, he makes you cum, but he doesn’t give you kisses the way you’d probably hoped he would. He’ll tell his mates later— it was kinda cute how fucking bad you were at giving head, too.

He lets you stay the night even though your clinging is a bit annoying. Pushing you out would burn this bridge, and he’s not ready to do that just yet. Not when he could keep having fun.

Come morning your clothes are tossed your way (sans panties, those are going in his trophy collection), and he has the decency to drop you off at your place with the promise of further contact.

Come your next class, he’s back to acting like he doesn’t know you. You’re shy, but you’re not stupid. It’s easy to see that you were played, and you curse yourself for falling into it.

So why do you show up when he texts you, asking you to come over?

Promethean indeed.

And it keeps happening.

It’s not like he treats you badly— that’s what you tell yourself. You’re just the idiot for expecting more than orgasms. It’s nice to feel wanted. It’s not nice to put your clothes on and get out right after, but you’re willing to ignore that. You shouldn’t be. But you are.

You’re not the kind of girl who gets asked out. So why refuse the one source of attention you have? He makes you cum, right? That’s more than a lot of guys do, so it would be unfair to expect more. High maintenance. Right?

If Johnny can see the hurt behind your eyes when you turn to check behind you when you leave, as if he’ll suddenly change his mind and call you back into bed to hold you, he doesn’t do anything about it. He’s content to tug on his jeans and brush past you with a cigarette in his mouth.

You steel yourself as usual, double checking the straightness of your clothes as if it’ll make you feel like less of a cheap whore when his housemates glance your way as you leave.

The door across from Johnny’s is almost always open, despite how closed off its occupant seems. You’ve never met Simon. Well, you really haven’t met anyone in Soap’s life. That’s not what he keeps you for, is it? Fucktoys don’t get introduced to the friend group. Doesn’t stop Simon from staring holes in your back every time you leave. Must think you’re easy. Must wonder if Johnny’ll mind if he has a go. Or maybe he just thinks you’re pathetic. You certainly do.

But it’s happened one too many times. Apparently, even a worm will turn. His stare itches and crawls up your skin when you already feel like such a piece of meat— chewed up and spit out. And you must be losing flavor. Before long you won’t even have this. You turn to look at him instead of walking on as usual.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” You spit in a tone that surprises you. You’ve never said anything like that to someone, not in earnest, anyway.

“Lemme take y’out somewhere.”

What?

What?