#yes maybe you hate the X character | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mygnolia · 14 days

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to weave my love ⭒ n. riki

⭒ SYNOPSIS -› Riki is good at many things- dancing, making fun of his friends, playing it cool (debatable.), Hell- he’s even good at saving people from falling buildings without getting whiplash. But the things he’s bad at? Well, it’s asking you out to prom, and trying to balance the shared assignment he has with you…while being Spider-man.

⭒ PAIR -› spiderman!nishimura riki x fem-pres!reader

⭒ GENRE -› fluff, banter, action ⭒ TROPES -› classmates to lovers, idiots to lovers ⭒ WC -› 17k (i’m sorry idk why either.)

⭒ INCLUDES -› SPOILERS FOR GREAT GATSBY, cursing, non-graphic injuries (reader discretion advised), yes i made the patching up with first aid kit trope SUE ME!! takes place in a busy city similar to new york never specified, reader is rich, jake and heeseung are seniors and riki’s a junior, is riki stupid? yes… jake reveals stuff because he is also a little silly, reader wears a red dress!

⭒ GREAT GATSBY -› basically jay gatsby has this weird amt of money but no one rlly knows how he got it (nefarious reasons) and hes been in love with this girl daisy for five years but then she got married to tom buchanan but he gets rich so he can get the house across from her and wistfully watch her and he pines after her like CRAZY but he dies at the end

⭒ REN SAYS...special huge fat kiss to thena @sensitively-taken you will be in the will when im a millionaire THANK YOU for helping me with so much of this I WUV U AND I WLL BE WAITING FOR UR HUENING FIC!!! | LIBRARY

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM PRE-ADULTHOOD STRESS, IF THAT’S EVEN A THING.

What exactly does Riki have to worry about as a seventeen-year-old junior in high school? Right now, his most daunting responsibility is catching up on the chapters of The Great Gatsby because the only thing Riki’s actually read from the novel is that the main character shares a name with his best friend and senior, Park Jay. His second most daunting responsibility is handling the fact that with the new seating chart in his Literature class, it means he’s sitting next to the object of his very subtle affections, you.

See, the problem with having a crush on you is that Nishimura Riki’s committed to thinking that you’re way out of his league, and unfortunately, the boy believes that almost too well. Not only are you minted beyond his wildest dreams (having seen your posts on social media), but you’re hardworking, helpful, and dedicated to your role as student body treasurer. He’s already understood that you’d never go for a guy like him. Maybe someone more like Park Sunghoon, whose parents’ salary matches yours. If Riki lived in a rural estate with generational wealth, handling the whole ‘Spider-Man’ thing might be a bit easier for him, considering he wouldn’t have to try so hard in school. It might even change the fact that Riki dealt with some alleyway criminals last night and is currently catching up on lost sleep, as your English Literature teacher goes on and on about a project on the book you’re reading.

In class, and even sometimes outside of the classroom, your small tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings has landed you in some awkward situations—like now.

“I don’t really tell anyone this, but I hate Daisy.” And instead of getting a response, you glance over to see Nishimura Riki slumped on the desk. Without trying to make preconceptions about what could land him in a situation like this, you poke his arm, stifling a smile at how his eyes widen when you’ve caught him rubbing the very obvious sleep from his eye.

“Sorry,” he whispers, still fighting the post-nap grogginess, “Did I miss anything?”

(Nope.)

Shaking your head, you return your attention to your teacher as he continues to answer questions. The second Mr. Yoo assigned a report, you wanted to die even more considering the work you had to do on top of the impending due dates. But for it to be partnered? And for you to get seated and paired with the one boy who's known for not caring about school? Maybe things are a little stacked against you, but there has to be a reason why Riki’s somehow still passing all his classes…right?

Considering it’s the last assignment about the book, you’re glad that you already read it so many times to know what you want to put into words. And in retrospect, answering a few open-ended questions about it can’t be that hard—the hardest part would be getting your partner to stay awake in class.

A small tap at your side makes you turn to face Riki, who you see has frantically written a page full of notes about the project in the past three minutes and how he can succeed. “Can you go over the first part? Sorry…I was…y’know.”

“It’s a partner project. And we’re partners.” You wince at the awkward wording.

Great! Riki was caught sleeping and that was your first impression of him for your paired assignment? Riki feels so stupid in front of you right now—in front of your meticulous notes with annotations and proper highlighting. He wants to curl up into a ball when he sees you glance over at his haphazard attempt to look like he was paying attention when, in truth, he was trying to remember the dream he had just ten minutes prior. When you offer him a small smile and nod, leaning over with your notebook in hand, he sighs in relief, thanking whoever it was that let him get away with his naps without the consequence of irritating you afterwards.

The bell rings when Mr. Yoo stops talking, and you pause, startled by the sound. Instead of leaving, however, you pack your bag and shuffle to his side of his desk, continuing to parrot details about your report in hopes that it all makes sense. You need to make sure he knows what he’s doing.

“I think one of the questions he mentioned was like ‘Is Gatsby a good person?’ and do you remember how in Chapter Eight…” The rest gets zoned out and forgotten in the boy’s head, because he in fact does not know what happened in Chapter Eight. He doesn’t know what happened…in any part of the book. But he agrees anyway, pretending like he understands what scene you’re trying to explain. What he notices is how thorough and dedicated you are towards ensuring he comprehends what you’re explaining, and although it could be because you don’t want him to fail you both, he chooses to believe you’re doing it because you tolerate him.

You’re so engrossed in covering all the little details and telling him random tidbits regarding the book that you don’t realize your feet have made it all the way to the cafeteria. “But here, let me get your number. I’ll totally explain more over text.”

Riki is definitely not freaking out when he silently grabs his phone and hands it to you with the contact page, staring a little longer than necessary at the cute smiley face you added to your name. “Thanks,” he mumbles, forcibly tearing his eyes away from the ten digits of your number, “For helping me with this, too.”

“Of course! The Great Gatsby is a fun read for me. A little hard to read sometimes because of some of the characters, but still easy to understand.” And Nishimura RIki realizes that he has to do well. He’ll read the book five times over if it means gaining your approval.

Jake notices something a little different about the tuft of black and blonde hair when his friend walks in. The first thing is that he’s actually here, and that you’re next to him, smiling. The boy rubs his eye to make sure he’s not dreaming somehow, but when he looks up again, you’re waving goodbye and joining your friends across the room.

“Did you get hit with something while fighting a villain that makes you more bold? I feel like I just saw you and ____ talking,” Jake starts when Riki finally joins him with his lunch.

Riki laughs, shoving Jake’s head out of embarrassment and opening his chips. “It’s just school. Got some project in English and she says we’re partnered.” He looks over at his friend chuckling, rolling his eyes at how Jake pokes at his side and wiggles his eyebrows.

“I better hear you two are dating by next week.”

“Who’s dating by next week?” Heeseung places his bag of food in front of them and takes a seat, opening the fast food he got last period and stuffing a fry in his mouth.

“Riki and ____. Let me have one,” Jake answers, reaching inside the bag.

Heeseung looks over at his junior curiously. “You asked her out?” And the two older students hear a groan from the boy in question.

“Me and ____ aren’t anything, for your information.” He prods at the vegetables on his tray and takes a bite before a look of displeasure washes over his face. “You’re both way too excited for two guys who do not have girlfriends.”

“Hey! You know the girl I’m always fighting with is the reason why I’m single. I have to focus on studying to do well in school to do better than her.” Heeseung’s whining falls on deaf ears as Riki smiles victoriously, seeing how defensive the former got.

Jake offers him a shrug of defeat. “I got nothing.”

The three of them fall into normal conversation and Riki finally explains everything that happened during English. “So you’re telling me your plan to ask ____ out went down from 18 months to 6?” And with a nod from the younger, they both groan once more. Heeseung exclaims, “We’re both going to graduate, dumbass. Make the plan go down to like…two months? Please?”

Jake cuts in before Riki has a chance to respond. “Make it one and a half, so we can see you with a prom date before leaving forever.”

“You act as if you’re going to die after graduation. It’s like you’re begging to be a super senior.”

And they’re silenced immediately.

“Do you think the guy I was with earlier hates me?” you ask on the other side of the room. Minjeong stares at you blankly, waiting for your explanation. “I don’t know if you saw when I walked in but I was talking to this really tall guy with blonde hair and black tips. He seemed really out of it, like he kept staring at me and nodding. I think I scared him off by talking about the book too much.”

Sunghoon, who is also listening in, opens his neatly packed lunchbox and begins mixing his noodles. “I think you did scare him off, ____.”

“Not helping,” Minjeong interjects, “Just talk to him more and maybe he’ll warm up to you. You two sit together in class anyways, so hopefully he’ll talk more?”

“I know him,” Sunghoon comments, “Well, sort of. I’m friends with Jake who’s friends with Riki, and it seems like all that boy does is sleep.”

“Maybe he’s really good at subconscious in-class comprehension?” you try, taking a bite of your sandwich. “I just hope it doesn’t interfere too much with treasurer stuff.”

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE IF HE SWINGS INTO ANOTHER WALL AT 100MPH LIKE HOW HE ALMOST DID TONIGHT.

All he’s had on his mind since school ended till now is how he should probably text you, if he really discarded the slimy acid monster from last week properly, and when the prom theme is going to be released, but there’s something amiss that confuses his spidey-senses and makes Riki much more alert.

He snaps out of whatever train of thought he had before, focusing on the situation at hand and looking around to follow his instinct. Riki cautiously plants himself on the side of a random apartment building to get a sense of what's going on. A tingle of some sort of in the air permeates the material of his suit and leaves him shivering from the cold.

He doesn't like it one bit.

Moving to the side of the building to the top, the boy finally catches a glimpse of something when he gets a decent view of the city and highway systems. Riki knows something’s wrong with the bridge the closer he gets. He zips from one side of the tall, metal tower to the other, crawling down on all fours making sure he isn’t caught. He feels the electric feeling once more, only amplified. It runs up his spine and he wants to slap it, almost like a frantic, summertime bug. The air around him is charged with something he has never recognized before. With a puzzled expression under his mask, Riki continues to investigate the surrounding area.

Riki finds a lone figure with some sort of attachment to his left arm, like a long glove made out of metal. The bulkiness of it seems to have no impact on his body as the man fiddles with the contraption, and the boy watches with bated breath as the machine fizzes and spurts with electricity. It begins to glow as power concentrates on his plated palm and the superhero sees it for the first time. It’s like a fizz, like a match striking at fire only to produce a quick burst of friction, but it almost feels liquid when he watches the person play with the flickering blue ball of electricity. It dances in the dark in a hauntingly beautiful way, with bolts jutting out from the metal as it spurts and buzzes with a life-like manner.

A spark.

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sound of Riki’s voice from the end of the bridge causes the stranger to look up with wide eyes. Although Riki fully expects it to simply enhance strength or block damage, the immediate strike of blue that flies straight towards him is anything but defensive. With a yelp, he jumps away, this time refusing to show himself.

What the hell was that?

He knows he should go back down there to change things and get the person and the metal pieces away before it escalates, but when he goes back down to watch, it's ten times worse. The bright blue illuminates the scarred face of the villain as he’s picked up the metal arm–but this time, it’s no longer clunky and sparking, but fused into his arm.

Riki’s face pales at the sudden change before his body acts on its own and he shoots out a web to stop the man.

The villain is shocked by the intrusion, but quickly yanks free from the webbing and flicks another bolt of electricity, one that flies much faster now that the metal flows into the arm instead of simply resting on the skin. It’s unlike something Riki has ever seen, something that is so controlled in motion and yet so erratic in nature, and it instills a deathly fear when it grazes his arm he hisses in pain. The sharp feeling springs Riki into action as he jumps away. He’s lucky another bolt isn’t sent his way, seeing how the villain’s too busy marveling at the power of his new gadget.

“You know that fucking hurts, right?” He yells out, cupping his wound. “Maybe leave the gadgets to the kids!”

The man scoffs. “It better have hurt. I sacrificed half my body for this to work.”

“But why?” All Riki wants is answers. Some sort of explanation.

The man charges up yet another bolt, almost like a laser gun is built into the machine. “Less talking, more running, Spiderman.”

That scared the shit out of him.

The boy doesn’t have time to think as he jumps out from the dark tunnel to the bridge and up the metal towers—he hates having to fight with people right below. The villain follows in pursuit, almost crumbling the metal with his engineered arm as he hoists himself quickly. Riki continues to jump between the structure to avoid the flashes, trying to get out and apprehend the man as quickly as possible. When he reaches the top, however, he feels death is near as he glances down at the villain below who’s quickly gaining on him. He shoots out webs to slow him temporarily, letting himself fall and swing from the side of the tower to escape.

What he doesn’t see on the way across the bridge is the flash that misses his cheek and hits his thigh instead. It burns, and mid-air, Riki gives the wound a quick assessment before he lands on the metal, immediately forcing his body to climb. While dealing with his wound, he fails to notice the villain swinging from the bridge support lines to meet him.

He needs to end this fast before he becomes burnt toast.

Riki doesn’t often rely on instinct to carry him, but he can tell that the villain he’s facing isn’t just a criminal.

“Land another hit, would you?” he tries to say, his voice strained from the pain in his arm and leg. It doesn’t do much to deter the man in front of him as the arm continues to destroy and bend the metal on the way up. “What are you going to do now, Sparky?”

The man says nothing, charging energy into his metal glove again before aiming and focusing on the target: him.

Riki jumps off, not able to properly land his web in the right spot as he goes from one section of the bridge to the other. The man behind him looks enraged at the boy’s attempt to escape—so much so that he reaches out with his normal hand to try to grasp the suit when Spider-Man swings past him. Instead of the feeling of fabric, the villain feels sticky spider fluid on his fingers. Riki shoots out a web, one that curls around the villain’s wrist and drags him off the tower. Instead of being able to launch him into the surrounding waters, the man slips from the poorly shot-out webs and falls from mid air into the sea of frantic cars, including one semi truck that collides directly with his arm. In the air, the boy winces when he hears honks and shouts from the impact, hoping it’s the last time he’ll have to witness it.

With his gaze trained on the falling figure, the weakly attached web breaks, and Riki all of a sudden starts falling down as well. He curls up defensively before bracing for impact, curling into himself when he feels the metal dent and the truck driver scream from outside of the parked vehicle, the body of the villain right in front of it.

Riki staggers, holding onto his arm and thigh the best he can before getting up. With wobbly steps and a small jump, he lands near the unconscious man, whose metal arm is cracked and fizzling—something that Riki knows is bound to leave more scars.

“Call the police. I’ll get rid of the pieces.” Although Riki wants to figure out who the criminal is and make sure he’s properly apprehended, the gashes in the boy's limbs leave him winded and exhausted. With hot metal scraps bound together by webbing in his hands, Riki swings out and dumps it somewhere rural, trying his best to cover the pieces with the pounding headache that

Riki revisits the secluded spot under the bridge, looking for clues to the man’s identity, and his expression falls when he notices a lanyard dangling near a trash can.

His name, his position, and the company. FLiGHT Corp. The company name caught the boy’s eye, and he pockets the item before leaving.

It seemed like he was a normal research scientist, but Riki’s recollection of the scars and tattered skin leaves him retracting his last thought. He heard something about the failure of a time travel machine at FLiGHT, and if the mass of the incident was anything to go by, he was in the center of it.

No matter how many times Riki tries to get it out of his head, on the way home, all he can think about is the inexperience he displayed and the lack of response he gave Riki during the whole time. But Riki can’t bring himself to really take away someone’s life—and maybe for that, he’s a horrible superhero.

He knows he should stop the man before it's too late, and especially with how many self-proclaimed villains there have been, it's not easy to see so many innocent people ruin their lives chasing a power that inevitably consumes them. He knows it’ll only get worse if he lets them run free.

And while the superhero has never been fully honest with himself, there are many times where Riki hates his role as Spider-Man, and wishes that he was just some teenage boy who didn't have the lives of others in his palm. He wishes he didn't have to sacrifice so much to stay behind a mask—and he wonders deep down if there’s anyone else who felt the same.

His swings lead him across the city above hundreds of lives he has to protect, and he tries to find some semblance of peace. He thinks about how he has his homework due despite having just risked his life, he thinks about how your project is going—and about you.

In the night under the stars, Nishimura Riki wishes for something just a bit normal. He wishes a good night for himself, but also for you, wherever you could be.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM TRYING TO READ THIS BOOK IN ONE NIGHT.

The Great Gatsby is exactly like how you described it; a little hard to get through but fun with the plot’s eccentric characters. He’s pretty sure he could’ve just used a detailed SparkNotes explanation for the book, but having a crush can make someone do weird things. And in Nishimura Riki’s case, his infatuation has got him reading a novel about morally-skewed characters and rich society to impress you.

When you come into class barely on time, Riki gives you a confused look when you sit down, but doesn’t comment on it any further. Instead, he takes out his book and tries to act like his eyes weren’t closing shut from exhaustion by the time Daisy was finally confessing how she loved Gatsby.

The moment Mr. Yoo stops talking, however, Riki isn’t asleep—much to your surprise. He has his book out, pages filled with sticky notes and a whole section of his notebook dedicated to characters (written in bright red to keep him awake) and their traits.

“I got it.” It’s the first thing he says when you two are left to do in-class work. It’s ominous, and maybe a little too enthusiastic in a high school literature class for a boy who doesn’t even care that much for school, but you’ll accept it with open arms if it means you get a helping hand on your project.

“Continue,” you tell him slowly, leaning back in your chair to listen to him. And you don’t know why, but a small part of you thinks that the boy who sleeps every period the book was discussed wouldn’t have much to say or contribute to such an open-ended prompt, but life is full of surprises.

What you fail to notice is how Riki is nervous and his stomach does at least twenty flips before he swallows dryly and starts rambling in hopes to impress you and redeem himself from his embarrassing slumber a few days ago.

“So you know how our prompt is based on one character and basically all their actions?” he asks, and you nod, absentmindedly thumbing a sheet in your journal. “I’m thinking we should talk about Jay Gatsby because so much is revealed to us about him that we might as well use it to our advantage. Y’know, talking about how the theme of exploitation and secrets is veiled under Gatsby’s desire for Daisy.”

“You don’t think Gatsby’s a good character?” Riki wants to tell you that Gatsby is more relatable than good or bad, but he shakes his head.

“I mean, not really.” He feels like with those four words, he’s completely changed the trajectory of his relationship with you from a positive slope to completely downhill—and a wave of panic washes over him. “Should I? I mean, I could see him as more redeemable if you gave me examp-“

You wave your hand to quell his worries. “To be honest, I don’t like him either. But he’s an interesting main character to write about, so I think we should go with your idea.”

To win your approval feels like he’s won at least three fights against a villain in a row without getting any bad injuries—it feels good. And for the rest of the period, you are able to finish a detailed outline of your work for the next few weeks, mapping out sections for each other, and he even gets to see a part of prom planning on a word document you had open. He considers your shared productivity a win when he packs up and bids you goodbye before leaving for lunch.

One wave doesn’t catch Riki’s attention from across the room. Not even two, or three calls of his name could get Nishimura Riki out of his thoughts, and Jake frowns before moving up in the lunch line.

“Something’s caught your eye again.” Jake feigns innocence and sighs dramatically as he places the food down next to Riki’s plate. “Could it possibly be our school treasurer?” Jake laughs, leaning over to catch a glimpse of what’s got his friend so entranced and non-responsive.

Riki scrunches his nose, annoyed, but never breaking his gaze from where you’re sitting. “We talked in class–like, a lot,” is all he says, paying his friend no mind. “She’s genuinely so understanding.”

“God, I don’t think you can be any more down bad for her than you are right now.” Jake picks at his food, and despite his concentration directed towards the olives on his pizza, he’s able to dodge the flying loaded nacho that goes his way, even if he wasn’t the one with superpowers.

“Can you shut up?” Riki grumbles, laying his head on his arms as he notices you smile and point to something. “I just got pummeled into a semi truck last week. Let me have this before I die tomorrow.”

“Very grim,” his friend notes, ruffling the younger’s hair, “I think this is exactly what all of those mental health assemblies that we get are for.” And Riki basically tunes him out, too tired to fight and too used to the teasing remarks to come up with anything useful in response.

Riki sits up a bit, letting his head rest on his propped elbow as he looks at the school food and touches another nacho gingerly. “Y’know, I read the book for English so she wouldn’t think I’m an idiot.”

His friend snickers, successfully pulling out yet another sliced olive from the cheese, much to the disgust of Riki. “She probably already thinks you’re an idiot.”

The superhero debates throwing another cheesy nacho in Jake's face, before deciding to eat it instead. “Don’t say that asshole! You make it seem like I have no chance with her.”

Jake shoots him an exasperated look that makes Riki break eye contact. “That’s because you don’t.”

“I’ll prove to her that I’m worth her time.” Riki says somewhat wistfully, still stealing glances from a few tables away. “Maybe I’ll ask her out to prom, show up in my suit. Do that cheesy upside down kiss shit people say Spiderman does.” When his friend raises an eyebrow at him, Riki shrugs. “I will! Well-maybe not the Spider-Man thing, but prom definitely.”

Jake continues to look at him unconvinced as he takes a bite out of a slice of pizza with mangled cheese. “You barely talk to her in class and you think you can ask her out to prom as Nishimura Riki?” And the younger grins, eyes still stuck on how your eyes crinkle and how your shoulders shake with laughter.

“Yup.” And his fate is sealed, just like that.

“What’s your project about, anyways? Didn’t you tell me last night that she gave you her number? Must be pretty serious if she wants to text you.” Riki furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head.

“It’s just tying the theme of the book to one character and writing about how they show it. So we did the theme of money and Gatsby, because it’s easy and mentioned so many times.”

Jake gawks. “You must really like her,”

“I was planning to read it regardless of who I was partnered with.”

“Okay- that’s debatable.” There goes another one of Riki’s nachos.

“Gross.”

He thinks things are going pretty well for you two. The report is being written and your quotes are basically finding themselves, so Riki should give himself a pat on the back for pitching the initial idea for how to go about your assignment. Maybe reading the whole book offered him a few useful pointers, and he goes to sleep that night satisfied with your progress. Maybe Heeseung and Jake were right—maybe he could finally ask you out by prom.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO SAVE THE CITY FROM YET ANOTHER MONSTER TERRORIZING THE STREETS.

He wakes up the next morning, not expecting his alarm to alert his senses to danger. It rings in his head and makes him feel delirious, trying to shake sleep off as he looks out the window for any visible sign of what's wrong. If he could hear the danger in his head then that meant someone could be hurt, and he could go to school without a few hours of sleep if he worked fast enough, right?

Riki slips into his suit without much thought and goes to crack his window open, only to look back at his clock and read the horrific time of 6:23AM.

Who the hell picks a fight with a teenager at this ungodly time?

Then, he shoots from his wrists, once, twice, and suddenly, he's off, covering more ground through the air in just three seconds than he ever could while walking or running for minutes on end.

The source of his tingling spidey-sense is some large metal centipede creature that was setting off car alarms in a neighborhood near the market. Thankfully, no one was really awake to be caught in the crossfire, but he has to figure out how the hell he's going to catch that thing in...he checks his watch…twenty minutes?

Hopefully, his instinct will help him win this time—again.

The web he shoots out does nothing to stop the monster, and considering how it connected them both, the threads only drag the superhero to the edge of the building he was initially watching from. With some yelling and pulling, he finally detaches, and realizes that the odd sizzling feeling in his bonds must be from the same source as a few days ago; Spark.

He had this gut feeling that a villain as strong as him wouldn’t have been destroyed so easily, but his wounds were so deep and the blood loss so bad from a few nights ago that he couldn’t have truly dumped him in the ocean without fainting or suffering something permanent, and although Riki hoped things in the universe would work itself out, the presence of the giant fifty foot insect alone is proof that things were not in his favor.

He jumps off the building onto another, working quickly as he strings up a few webs between the houses as a wall for the monster, watching it slide and knock over cars in its wild pursuit. The monster spends a few seconds breaking down the wall of webbing and climbing over it, the many legs easily breaking through. As the superhero jumps across buildings and keeps track of the centipede’s movement, he has no idea why it isn’t going for him, and that makes his job much harder without the attention of the monster. One glance at the direction the centipede is headed in sets off another ding in Riki’s head—but this time, it finally clicks why the centipede is headed away from the boy.

It’s attracted to the power plant.

Riki immediately jumps and swings off of a lamp post, using the momentum of gravity and the force of his swing to propel him faster than the slithering creature. Squinting, he holds out his fist and points his pointer and pinky out, following the movement of the centipede as he aims.

Bam.

He sends clusters of silky white threads down precisely at the first pair of legs to pin it down. The webs stop the creature momentarily, and Riki doesn’t have time to watch how the body shrinks up and fizzes out with blue shocks as it tries to wiggle loose and malfunctions. This fight would be over soon, and the boy smiles when he jumps down to shoot more webs to apprehend the centipede. It wiggles and sends electricity out through parts of its body, trying to pry itself out. He expects it to simply be a robot of sorts following a mission considering its avoidant behavior, but as he approaches the tail, the monster suddenly swings at Riki, and its mass and speed is incomparable to the boy’s reaction speed.

Riki lands into a tree and someone’s garage, feeling the crumbling wall falling all over him and the sudden pain blooming in his lower back.

This fight will, in fact, not be over soon.

With his superhuman abilities, Riki grabs onto the metal of the car beside him to hoist himself up, coughing from the dust, and jumping over the rubble to see how quickly the centipede creature can get out, without regard for his current state. The sound and rumble of the giant monster is all he needs to know that the traps are effective, but not at the previous capacity.

The plan is simple: apprehend the legs and crush the head, where Riki assumes the decision-making and programming is taking place. But the monster’s angry and erratic actions throw a wrench in his plan. Its legs move faster, digging into the cement and leaving ruin in its wake as it continues down the road. While both the villain and superhero are fast, the distance between the power plant is finite—and only grows smaller and smaller.

Although Riki can feel the bruises coming, he runs and swings, hearing the wind in his ears as he catches up to the centipede in no time. He tries the same tactics again–aim, shoot, stick, all the while keeping his distance. Although the monster’s body spans incredibly long, and should carry an immense amount of weight, the way it snaps at Riki’s flying body and sends shockwaves through his core leaves him shivering as his body slams into the ground, coughing. It hurts all over, and it feels like there’s weight on his eyes when he tries to open them and get up. His head is spinning as he staggers onto his knees, clutching his chest as he watches the centipede shrivel and crackle.

It seems like the voltage produced is a double-ended sword, one that burns up the centipede body as much as it deals damage, and with the way the mutant creeps towards the electricity of the plant, Riki gets the feeling there’s a magnetic pull that forces the mutant to continue to crawl even against its instinct to stop.

Despite his waning strength, however, Riki knows better than to half finish the job like last time. He creates a net from experience, weaving together the thickest and most durable threads to trap the entirety of the slowly approaching creature. It seems to crawl slowly up the makeshift barrier, knocking its head against the white and spreading the bright blue waves of its energy throughout. The boy watches as the thin white mass absorbs all of it and clings to the creature. It works, finally, after his attempts to nullify its movements, and he knows that despite the ache in his every step, the almost mummified centipede that hangs between several roofs for all the neighbors to gawk at is his sure sign of victory.

All he remembers is hearing a familiar call of his hero name before his legs give out and his head hits Jake’s chest.

Holy fucking shit is the first thing Riki thinks when he wakes up.

He’s not out of his tattered suit and he feels grimy all over, but his body has done wonders in reducing the otherwise fatal injuries he got. No human body should be able to withstand two energy-filled blasts, but his suit and superhuman healing are of greater help than ever in alleviating the damage from his wounds.

He knows why he’s in his bed with bandages thrown over his open wounds. He knows that every time something like this happens, it’s Jake who shoos away the concerned civilians, telling them he’s a medic. Jake is not a medic—rather, he’s a seventeen year-old boy who knows about his friend’s double life and with all the times he’s saved Riki, someone might as well dub him the greatest medic of all time.

The clock on his bedside table has only served as a bearer of bad news. He looks over to see how it’s practically midday, and he’s missed yet another day of school from fighting crime. He’s in no condition to get up or get his bag, seeing how his hair is frizzy and his cheek has a cut that would warrant questioning. It seems only fair that he stays absent, and before he falls back asleep, he only prays you aren’t too mad at him for leaving the seat next to you empty.

But you aren’t mad, just worried. The soreness in his muscles doesn’t go away though, and he groans when he sits up in his bed, with bandages around his arms and an ice pack discarded next to him.

He’s most definitely not coming to school like this.

While you bore holes into the clock hanging off the wall, that doesn’t speed up the time. Two minutes pass, then another minute. As your classmates find their partners and begin discussing, you notice how the room gets louder with the due date looming near. It’s the first time you’re alone without the familiar boy beside you, and something hangs low in your chest when you put in a pair of earphones and open your laptop.

Riki’s absence should have no effect on you. After all, you’re both just high school students who’ve talked once or twice, and yet you still look over at the empty chair. Staring doesn’t make Riki appear, though, and you return to your edits. It feels empty without his insight, or without him asking you to help him with a passage. Riki was your solution to all things boring. If he wasn’t doing his work, then you two were laughing at something on his phone. And if you agreed to both do something other than the report, then you could ask for an extra opinion when deciding prom details. There was something freeing about working with him that attracted you. Riki knew how to lighten the mood on days that weren’t so good for you, but he also worked hard and let loose at the same time. There was a perfect balance in Riki’s life that you aspired to have; it was a good mix of playful, dedicated, and fun all in the same vein.

The words blend together on your screen. Jay Gatsby this, Tom Buchanan that, it all looks monotonous the more you keep trying to read and comprehend what exactly you’re talking about.

Before class is dismissed, Mr. Yoo steps to the front of the classroom to gather everyone’s attention. He introduces your new novel for the next month, explaining yet another large assignment associated with the text.

Truth be told, you don’t pay attention to any of it.

The only thing you remember to do is to grab extra copies of the printed graphic organizers, as you get out of your seat and rush out when class ends in pursuit of one specific boy.

“Sim Jaeyun!” The call of his name diverts Jake’s attention from his phone to your waving arm as you weave through the students and finally reach him.

“You can just call me Jake,” he explains, “what’s up?”

You begin to reach into your backpack, trying to feel for your folder, and pull out a few sheets. “These are for Riki.”

Jake cheers internally for his friend who’s busy recovering at home. “What, you got a crush on him or something?”

He tries to play it cool by teasing you, but the smile you bite back leaves the boy questioning if there really is anything going on. Jake knows better than to tell you anything about Riki’s feelings, and opts to instead grab the papers and to thank you for looking out for his friend.

“Is Riki okay?” You have to know, just to make sure he’ll be here tomorrow to cure your boredom.

What Jake says is much different than the nonchalant wave and half grin he gives you. “He’s just bedridden.”

“That’s pretty serious! Did he come down with anything?” He seemed fine yesterday, so what’s the catch?

He blurts, “He just got badly hurt.”

Immediately, Jake knows he’s fucked up.

Your confusion and silence answers him far more than words ever could–he basically hears the gears turning slowly in your head.

Jake weakly defends, “His parents had a fight with him because he hit his head or something. He’ll be fine by tomorrow. Just bedridden from sadness, y’know?”

The look you give him is unconvinced, but when Heeseung pats him on the shoulder and waves to you, the boy realizes that maybe staying quiet would’ve been the better decision.

“I’ll see you later, ____.” And he’s off, waving half-heartedly and dragging a very confused Heeseung out of the cafeteria.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO WAKE YOU UP AS GENTLY AS HE CAN.

Ever since March started and flowers began to bloom, your energy seemed to do the opposite, dwindling until Riki catches you mirroring his frequent in-class action: sleeping. And it worries him beyond belief, because you’re not the type to fall asleep like… ever. However, Riki does not have the heart to wake you up, even if it’s with a little nudge that you probably barely feel with how light he taps. It breaks his heart to have to ask you to review what he has done, because the bell is about to ring and the teacher might just send you to detention if he catches you off-task.

The allergies always make Mr. Yoo irritable, and Riki knows not to get on his nerves.

Your eyes flutter open to the pokes and prodding from none other than Nishimura Riki, who gazes at you softly when you adjust to the bright classroom setting once more.

Panic settles in. “Wait- how long was I sleeping for?”

He shrugs and scrunches his nose, not giving you an answer as he finishes scribbling something in his notebook.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Your hand squeezes into a fist at the frustration that you’ve let your partner down.

And yet, Riki seems to be unfazed, frowning when he sees you stressing out. “Don’t ever sweat the little things, yeah? If there’s anything you ever need to talk about–trust me, I know what it’s like to have a lot of pressure on your shoulders.”

Smiling at him, you respond with, “Thank you, really.”

Being treasurer is daunting in the spring. It’s full of requests, forms, and small tasks that leave you spent by the end of the day. “But,” you glance at the clock to see just how much time is left, “how’d you know?”

He motions to your open computer with a now dark screen. “I saw your document pulled up. ____’s tasks or else she will be kicked out of student government,” he taunts, snickering when your eyes grow wide with embarrassment and you lightly nudge his shin with your foot in warning.

“It’s not polite to snoop,” and although you say that, you catch something in your peripheral vision. It’s a few drawings of a figure and gadget drawn, shaded from rigid shapes with small descriptions pointing to different places. You weren’t sure what was more surprising; how good the drawings were, or the subject of his imagination.

Weird. Inherently, there was nothing wrong with Riki drawing a villain, and you chalked it up to him being creative. Nothing more, nothing less.

He puts his hands up in surrender at your last comment, his grin showing anything but. Just one look at the boy makes you realize that everything you’ve just thought about is foolish.

There’s no way he’d have time to be a villain and a student. With one final thought, you let your raging thoughts rest and focus on the present; him. You’ve seen his hair messy, especially after his naps, but when Riki tries to style it like how he did today, you pay more attention to the streaks of blonde and how he often hides behind his bangs and scrunches his nose. It’s cute. He’s cute.

The truth is, you enjoy being around him like this, joking around and never worrying too much about your responsibilities and expectations. It’s refreshing. Being around Riki gives you the feeling that things will be okay in the end.

You snap out of your thoughts to see that his desk is empty, while your’s hasn’t changed one bit.

“You’re going to sell prom tickets now, right?” He makes small talk before leaving for lunch, closing the notebook you were suspiciously eying before slipping it into his bag.

“Yup,” you answer, popping the ‘p,’ “I’ll see you later,” and you two part ways.

All the long lines and constant distribution of change doesn’t allow much wiggle room for you to daydream. As time goes on, the ticket-selling line grows smaller and smaller, but the only thing you truly care about is eating the lunch your parents packed you. Your sandwich is probably sad and soggy now that there are only a few minutes of lunch left. When you finally sign off one last time after triple checking the forms are all correct, you let out a sigh, leaning back and finally getting a break.

Then, it hits you that you’re not even sure if the boy you’re fawning over is attending the biggest event of the year, and you feel stupid for forgetting to ask.

Yesterday was a rookie’s mistake–today, you’d make sure you get an answer from him.

“Are you going to prom, Riki?” is the first thing you ask when he sits down, grabbing his book and laptop with a little too much enthusiasm.

“I’m thinking about it.” Yeah, whatever confidence he had when convincing himself he’d ask you out isn’t serving him well at this moment. Quite frankly, Riki feels lame as ever trying to be nonchalant around you. “You?”

“I’d have to set up, so I would be there, yes. But whether or not I have a date is another story.” You smile to lighten the mood, but Riki watches you and nods, focusing back on signing into his laptop and getting his notes for the new book you’re reading.

“Well, you’re not the only single one here.” And he wants to reprimand himself for saying something without thinking. “If someone asked, would you say yes?”

You think about it carefully, really because you don’t have anyone in mind when it comes to prom if Riki’s not planning on going. “It’d have to be someone I know—someone I talk to somewhat regularly. I’d be nice to be with someone who doesn’t make it awkward.”

Nishimura Riki might die from over-thinking if he keeps on wondering whether or not he fits that description to a tee.

RIKI'S TO-DO LIST BEFORE PROM

☐ talk to ____ regularly

☐ don't make it awkward

☐ be..cute?

The boy decides that his superhuman responsibilities might be easier to complete than any of those three things.

He switches the subject to stop his head from hurting too much. “Did you finish the report?”

You still, and Riki’s question reminds you of the report looming over your head. In your defense, you two hadn’t brought it up much in the past week, and he didn’t seem to worry over how much of your time was spent emailing teachers or making spreadsheets. Although caught off guard, you’re quick to respond with, “What did we have to finish? I thought we were done since last week, but if there’s anything else-”

“Sorry,” he rushes out, biting his lip, “I meant, if you finished reading it.” And the answer is no, you haven’t read it since your last edit on it three days ago.

Within a few clicks, you find the document and scroll to the bottom, seeing the small note that Riki left that said ‘let me know how it looks.’ It’s sweet to know he thought about your input as much as you did his.

“While some can agree that Gatsby’s rise into high society was sketchy, Gatsby still retains the same reserved character from years ago, and doesn’t manipulate others into success or use his money for nefarious purposes. It’s not like he changed after his wealth, and it could be argued Gatsby loved Daisy until his last breath and was willing to die as long as she was happy, emphasizing the theme of sacrifice.

So, is Jay Gatsby a good person? The question targets the morality of a character who many can empathize with. Those who are charmed by his overwhelming love for Daisy would say that he’s committed textbook crimes, but focus more on the intent behind it. To pine after someone from a distance isn’t easy, but to pursue her after years of separation is even harder. It’s universally agreed, however, that love as a driving force doesn’t nullify what he’s done to others and the dirty schemes he’s enacted to gain the power he has. Therefore, Gatsby makes for an interesting main character, and highlights just how twisted a system around money can be.”

The last page is–for the most part–his writing, and your admiration for him grows when you finish reading and scroll to hit your Works Cited page.

“It’s good,” you tell him wholeheartedly, “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Riki cracks a smile at your light teasing, soaking up your praise.

“Now you know.” He shrugs. And he can only hope that you like him as much as you like his literary skills.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE COMES TO THE REALIZATION THAT HE IS EXACTLY LIKE JAY GATSBY,JUST WITHOUT THE MONEY—DESPERATE FOR THE GIRL OF HIS DREAMS, DYING YOUNG, AND A FRAUD HIDING BEHIND SECRETS.

Nevermind the last one, he has to hide when he has an identity to protect as the city’s only superhero, but Riki feels his heart sink to his heels when he read a few weeks ago how much Gatsby simply adores Daisy. When Gatsby died, he scoffed, closing the book with a sudden disinterest. If he were the male lead, he wouldn’t have been laying in a pool for target practice. Maybe being a superhero teaches you how to avoid being easy bait for all your enemies, or maybe Gatsby was too carried away with love to think straight.

Fighting crime gives you insurmountable experience with sneaking around, but it wasn’t something he could just teach to anyone. When he gets this horrible gut feeling that something’s happened to you, he just knew something was wrong. He might not be easy to catch, but for anyone else? Definitely.

For everyone else, prom was a month away, but for you, it was three weeks of talking to your advisor and president, arguing with your other board members, and sitting behind that damn money box for another five days to sell tickets. For you, it was realizing that you were supposed to buy streamers and balloons yesterday on your way home from school. It was the thinly veiled disappointment in your board member’s texts when they told you they were at a loss for words. ‘I’m sorry, and I know you’re busy, but how could you forget? Prom is so important for all of us. What if they don’t have what you need anymore?’ It all repeated in your head as you bit your lip in frustration and slipped on the first pair of shoes you could find. Although it was dark and dangerous, you could care less if it meant avoiding the passive aggressive comments you’d get tomorrow during your meeting.

There it is again: that little tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings.

You yelp when you feel someone grabbing your wrist and pulling you in, muffling your screams as he pulls you along. To see him on the news was worrying, but to see Spark in person with your life on the line is even worse.

Tears spring to your eyes as you struggle against the metal to no avail, and you curse every previous moment you spent worrying about balloons rather than your safety.

Spark suddenly stops, shoving you against the wall before his hand grabs a brick with his metal arm, beginning to climb. “Don’t let go.” And you don’t think twice before holding on.

The city view would be beautiful if you weren’t hearing your heartbeat in your ears or if you weren’t dangling from the railing of some company building, trying to wiggle yourself free of the rope around your wrists.

Spark speaks up, drumming his fingers on the railing next to you. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is, would you?” And you furrow your eyebrows, genuinely questioning for a moment if he really knew how the superhero operated.

A voice from across the street puts a temporary hold on your thoughts, and you glance up to see a flash of blue and red soaring through the air, followed by a groan and a beam of light next to you. Seeing Spark’s powers right in front of you spurs you into action, yanking at the rope and trying to take tiny steps away from where they were fighting.

“From what I’m seeing, you wanted to hold someone hostage because you’re not feeling too good, huh?” Spider-Man shouts as he shoots out webs and blocks hits. You shake your head in partial disbelief of how unserious he is, but also how unbelievable all of this seems. “You tried to take a potion or something? I’m going to tell you this now, but these usually don’t work.”

Riki’s assumption is right, and considering how Spark now has a leg and arm from metal instead of just the arm, the procedure for the additional limb couldn’t have been easy. The superhero still proceeds with caution, making sure to pay attention to anything new as he dodges and fights back.

The villain immediately gets back up, stumbling for a moment before he regains his stance and runs towards the boy. You hear the clanging of fist hitting metal from their fight, and considering the difference in height and build, you’d expect Spider-Man to be easily flung to the side, but he holds his weight in battle.

Riki aims for around the left shoulder, where an abundance of stitches cover the skin and fuse the metal into muscle. He lands a hit, and almost another one, before a punch to the side knocks him from his momentum. The boy wheezes when his back makes instant contact with the ground, rolling and getting up before Spark has time to shoot.

He notices how quickly the gadget generates electricity now. Before, the beams took longer, and were easily predictable, but now, it glows bright for a moment before it fires directly in Riki’s path. The boy dodges the first, but the second one almost hits the top of his head before he ducks and creates distance.

From the roof-top, Riki scans his surroundings before making the split-second decision to jump.

He swings to the other side of the building, keeping you in his peripheral vision as he works on apprehending the villain in front of him. They spring into yet another fist fight, with Riki’s agility easily letting him avoid punches and land precise hits to make the previous injuries even worse.

You think Spider-Man has the upper hand in this, seeing as how none of Spark’s punches seem to slow down the superhero, but you hear something loud before you can register it.

You figure out what happened after Riki stumbles and suffers a blow to the stomach, sending him tumbling to the edge of the building. Spark knew that Spider-Man was avoiding his left arm—he knew that one wrong move paired with the tungsten material would have a lasting effect on the superhero’s fist.

Riki coughs from the impact before his spidey-sense rings, pulling him back into battle as he runs as fast as his body can take him.

You. He still needs to save you.

With renewed vigor, he continues to avoid the flying sparks as he ducks between structures and uses the terrain to his advantage. He can tell, though, that the villain is slowing down. The shots are less accurate–a telltale sign that the enhancer Spark tried is working against him.

Between all of the chaos, Riki finally lands a proper web, yanking as hard as he can to pull Spark to the ground. He stumbles, grasping at thin silk before Riki lets go on his side. The villain’s balance is off, giving the boy an advantage as he closes the distance, hopping over a thrown slab of metal and landing a solid kick into Spark’s ribcage. As he stays down, Riki continues to aim for muscle and flesh, his head spinning as he packs punch after punch to keep the villain apprehended.

Spark’s body–curled into itself to absorb the hits the best that he can– hides the growing blue flash that he’s slowly charging up with his remaining power. The moment it escapes from under his abdomen, Riki directs his efforts towards avoiding the electric glimmer. The villain rolls over, his body tattered from the consistent injuries, and he fires what seems like an intense bullet of energy. It zips by the boy’s cheek, cutting the mask and leaving blood to run down in its wake. Time slows down as the superhero tries to process the unlocked speed of the burst, and Spark loses focus marveling at his new abilities. Never before had either of them seen power so concentrated, and it inflicts both fear and excitement.

He lifts his arm, the other holding it up for support, and Spider-Man notices the fizzle of bright blue. Riki’s about to jump out of the way, preparing for yet another high-speed bullet, but before Spark fires, something clicks. The arm doesn’t directly point to Riki–but it skews off to the right.

Except, he’s no longer aiming for Riki in the split second that the boy blinks. He’s suddenly aiming at you, where your hands are tied to the railing and your feet are dangling from the bent metal that holds you precariously over the edge, leaving a fifty foot drop in its wake. When you see the blue energy in the villain’s palm growing slowly bigger, you pull at the rope desperately with zero regard to the tender rawness of your wrists.

In your attempt to somehow break the rope, your cry of fear snaps Spider-Man into action.

Riki pushes his sore body to jump as quick as he can, leaping across the rooftop to the building over. He easily avoids the metal railing, grabbing onto your arm as he yanks hard on the rope, the force of it separating a piece of metal from the railing. He immediately jumps, sending out a web to swing him back up. It all happens in a flash–first, you were bound to the edge about to fall to your death, and all of a sudden, you’re tightly pressed against Spider-Man’s chest with your bound wrists still attached to the metal. Shutting your eyes, you trust Spider-Man entirely, closing your eyes to avoid seeing just how far up you were. Wind rushes in your ears and leaves your stomach fluttering with butterflies until the superhero sets you down on a secluded rooftop.

“Please,” he begs, “don’t leave. I’ll be right back.”

You’d be a fool to do anything but wait.

Riki checks on you one last time before diving down, springing himself back up with another web. The damage from the blasts is recognizable even from far away, and yet, he notices the reflective shine of a metal arm on the edge of the building before Spark lets go.

To Riki, Spark is dead after dropping from a fall having taken that much damage, but he hears no impact. Making haste, the boy fails to find any figure no matter how hard he looks, but Spark’s laboratory has to be here somewhere. The badge from a week ago was stuck on Riki’s mind, and he could only imagine the reasons why he pursued this life. Was he recreating something? If he needs to power some sort of machine, then the heart of the city is a perfect place to harness the electricity for any large scale project. As much as he wants to dedicate the rest of the night to searching the city for some sort of clue, the fact that you’re still stranded on that rooftop after having just experienced a life-changing event blares like an alarm in his mind.

He quickly leaves, returning to where you’re seated.

Without the fear of falling to your death from earlier, you were able to focus on undoing the knots from the rope. Red scratch marks and irritation bloom on your wrist, and the reality of it all happening still hasn’t settled in. Despite not being harmed once, the fear and incessant pounding of your heart overwhelms your senses, and it leaves you heaving with confusion.

A pair of footsteps only become apparent as Riki walks closer, taking a seat beside you and letting out a large sigh. He stares at the stars silently as if he doesn’t have a cut on his cheek and bruises waiting to paint his skin purple–as if he isn’t hiding his true self under a facade.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You shake your head, grateful that Spider-Man was the reason you got away without a real injury.

“Thank you, really, for saving me. I don’t know how you manage to do it.”

Riki chuckles under the mask. “Eh, you get used to it,” you hear Spider-Man say. “You fight a couple bad guys, get over a fear of heights and eventually you get the hang of things.”

Scoffing, you gently rub at your wrists to ease the redness. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t been taught a crash course on how to avoid being supervillain bait just yet.”

“Maybe you should learn it sometime,” Riki responds absentmindedly, “someone like you shouldn’t have been out so late doing whatever it could’ve been.”

Sighing, your mind drifts off to think about the balloons and streamers that are not in your hand. “I had stuff for my upcoming events.”

He knew about all of it when you’d explain your cryptic reminders and notes on your computer, but he still feigns curiosity. “What upcoming events?”

“Just prom,” and he hears just how strained it makes you.

Riki tilts his head in faux confusion. “What do you have to do for prom?”

He notices how you immediately slump, as if the mere mention of prom deflates your happiness. “It’s only a few weeks away, and I was supposed to get decorations for our venue yesterday. I just wanted to slip out before my parents noticed.”

Despite the fabric over his eyes, Riki’s expression shifts from surprise to pity when he understands your stakes. “You still need to be careful. Is your student council strict?”

“Not strict necessarily, but judgemental–I ran for the position because I thought I could help my school raise funds and find more opportunities, but it just feels like no one truly wants to try anything new.” You wave it off as if it’s not that important, as if it isn’t the reason why you find yourself stressed so often. “I just don’t want to disappoint or give people something to talk about.”

Despite not being involved with school the same way you are, the boy next to you resonates with the fear you currently face. The fear of letting people down was a large part of why Riki continued to put on that mask and step into the most dangerous situation of his life; he never wanted to sit down to hear the news that Spider-Man quit.

So he keeps doing his job, even if some days are harder and some fights aren’t worth winning–just like what you do.

“Yeah, I get that,” he tries to console, “You must be doing a lot for everyone around you, and I’m sure a lot of people appreciate what you’ve done. Don’t beat yourself up too much, yeah? You’ll always have me.” He smiles, but he knows you don’t see it. You’re looking at the stars, trying to calm your mind and return to your life before everything happened.

You glance over at Spider-Man, wondering if he’ll truly be around for you when you need it. “If I need to talk to you, should I step out of my house past 8PM again?”

Riki chuckles, watching clouds slowly dim the moon’s glow in their path. “If I’m not fighting crime, I’ll show up at a moment’s notice.”

There’s no way he means it, but you grin, feeling a lot of the pressure and stress of earlier slowly wash away. After all, nothing happened to you–Spider-Man made sure of it. Maybe things really were going to be okay.

“Let’s get you home, yeah? Don’t you have stuff to do anyways?”

You shrug, nothing really coming to mind. As you get up, you remember having to run a plagiarism check on your work, and how Riki told you to text him when you got home after your student government meeting.

Riki. Spark. Spider-Man.

“Wait,” you tell Spider-Man, sitting back down on the cement, “I need to talk to you about something else, too.”

“It’s not like my dinner’s getting cold,” the superhero mumbles quiet enough that you can’t hear.

“There’s this guy,” you start, paying no mind to how dirty your clothes are getting when you cross your legs.

Spider-Man scoffs, looking off into the distance, and it makes you believe he has to be your age or older. “You have a crush on him, or something?” And a whole tidal wave of deja vu hits you in the chest.

‘He must be badly hurt’ isn’t just something people say. People don’t just draw insanely detailed drawings of Spark’s arm and machines without notes to follow unless they knew. People wouldn't just randomly miss school without any impending signs. You’re sure of it–the tired naps in class, the random drawings of superheroes and superhumans alike, or how awkward he could act–it all makes sense.

Your classmate, aka Nishimura Riki, aka the guy who you’ve questioned if you had a crush on for the past few days, might be a villain.

The swirling feeling of trepidation in your stomach leaves three words running around your head.

What. The. Fuck.

Although you tried so hard to stop thinking about it, Jake’s comment from before rubbed you the wrong way. It was sometime last week where you couldn't get your mind off of the implications of his words, but that feeling was brushed underneath your responsibilities.

Until now.

“Yeah, there’s this guy,” you breathe, feeling your chest constrict, “Nishimura Riki. I think he’s Spark.”

His blood runs cold.

“You think this…why?”

You take a deep breath, trying to organize all your thoughts. “Well, first, it was his friend, Jake. He said that Riki was badly hurt, and I was really confused at first, but tried to let it go.”

Riki was going to strangle his best friend.

“And then, I was looking at him in class, right? And keep in mind, he’s pretty cute, and we sit next to each other, so I just noticed how good his hair looked that day, but his notebook was out, and I saw all these drawings of Spark. Like, the arms, the metal things, even the projectiles! Who would know the ins and outs of that thing if it wasn’t Spark himself?”

He didn’t know what to think about first; the fact that you gushed about him for the first time, or if he should even tell you that Spider-Man would know those things, too.

“And sometimes, I notice he’s a little awkward around me. I can’t explain it. It’s like he’s paying attention to me. That must’ve been why he captured me.” He wants to laugh at how damn close you are to figuring it out, but in reality, nothing is funny about the situation.

Nishimura Riki is actually listening to this, right now, as Spider-Man–not Spark. The awkwardness, though? It was his crush on you, and was not superhuman related in the slightest.

“I don’t know,” he attempts to divert, pretending to focus, “I saw a badge for FLiGHT. You know the company that’s been making time traveling machines? I saw a glimpse of his name and face. It’s not that guy you mentioned.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And you haven’t gotten him caught?”

“Villains aren’t easy to find, y’know. It’s not like playground hide and seek,” Riki defends, crossing his arms.

You shrink in your spot, feeling sheepish for questioning a superhero so bluntly.

“Plus,” he continues, “Spark has never had a hostage. Wouldn’t it be pretty mean of that friend of yours to kidnap a girl from his class?”

“Yeah—that makes sense. Thank god,” you breathe, closing your eyes momentarily. “Then what do you suspect all that evidence leads to? Maybe he’s a secret agent?”

“I think,” Riki continues to keep up his clueless facade, “Your friend might just be clumsy. Or creative. I mean, maybe he went through a break-up?” Nice one, Riki.

You shake your head. “No, there’s no way he has a girlfriend. You’d think I like guys who are taken?” Scoffing lightly, you then remembered that Spider-Man really would have no idea who any of you are.

He shrugs and stands up stretching before motioning for you to follow him. “I have no idea what you high school kids do. Come on, let’s get you home.”

As you hug him tight, the cold air whips around your body and leaves goosebumps in their wake. You barely open your eyes from the fear of seeing yourself inches from hitting a building or up in the air. Spider-Man only yells his confirmation after asking how to get you home, finally placing you on the ground outside of your large gate.

“Thank you for saving me tonight.”

“Anytime. Figure things out with that friend of yours, and don’t go out late, okay?” You nod and take his words to heart.

“Goodnight, Spiderman.”

—-

Nishimura might die. One, because he has this horrible guilty feeling in his stomach, and two, because of a villain.

Yesterday, he ignored the salmon and rice bowl that waited for him back at home, choosing to follow the coordinates he saved on his phone after he took you home. It led him to a seemingly harmless auto-shop, with an arrow on his GPS pointing to a garage that was shut down completely with nails and blocked with boxes. The exterior pointed to it being abandoned, but Riki suddenly saw some light coming from a makeshift above.

The boy scaled the wall as quietly as possible, glancing into the source of the whirring. He caught small glimpses of something–metal, glowing, blue.

Or at least, for a few seconds it was on until the power went out.

The voice that complained from inside the room sounded identical to the man Riki fought. Spark grumbled, turning on a flashlight and quickly waving it around. Riki ducked from the window and held his breath, waiting for the man to suspect something.

Nothing.

One lightbulb slowly flickered back on, and then the other dingy light followed. The space was cramped with the metal equipment in the middle, resembling what Riki had seen in the news.

He was right–it was the same time travel portal that was ruined from a few months ago.

Spider-Man continued to observe the man as he worked and drilled, plugging certain wires or pausing momentarily to read from a journal. To anyone, it’d seem peaceful, like some sort of renovation project. But in reality, it was so much more than that.

Riki searched for any sort of information about the machine, trying to see what exactly was left to do until his gaze landed on something.

There was some sort of date on a bright pink sticky-note, and Riki’s eyes widened when he finally comprehends it.

The machine was scheduled to be completed tomorrow.

A street lamp next to Riki dies out—which was a clear sign that something was powering up. From the dark, he hears the metal from the same place as last night moving again, and he knows that Spark has left. His presence sends anyone down the street and immediately running, leaving the area for only them two.

Riki finally sees the completed metal build. Half of his body is wrapped in or replaced with metal parts as he sets down the metal portal, beginning to push it in the direction of the power plant.

A truck or car would make things much easier, but whatever.

Riki wants to cry from fear and run away. He wants to leave and pretend he never saw anything from last night.

He’s going to die fighting Spark and he will quite literally a) never finish highschool and get that stupid diploma, b) finish explaining how Gatsby is not a good person and is naturally selfish, and c) he’s never going to tell you how he’s had a small crush on you ever since he saw your cute campaign video as to why you should vote y/n l/n for student body treasurer last spring.

“You sure that thing works?” Riki asks, jumping into action as he sends webs to immobilize the machine.

“You’re annoying, you know that?” Spark sends a projectile in the superhero’s direction, hitting the wall behind him instead as Riki jumps out of the way.

With another duck mid-air and the roof of a flying car dangerously close to his nose, Riki thanks the dance practice he does for his flexibility as he shoots another web and swings away.

Spark is uncontrollable by now, sucking the light from street lamps and fizzing wires in his wake. He has no idea how he’s supposed to get in contact with the villain like before. The body of his suit fizzes with bright electricity that sizzles and pops. It illuminates Spark’s figure, making him easy to spot, but not so easy to defeat. It’s an overload of power, causing the voltage to escape between the joints and gaps of the metal pieces in his suit. And Riki can feel it; the air is heightened and so are the stakes of this fight—and with how the man that stands in front of him looks upgraded and menacing, he knows only one person can make it out of this fight alive.

“You injected the city’s ‘Gas and Electric’ into your system or what?” Riki calls out, making light of the situation. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s scared out of his wits seeing the six foot figure with blue and white shooting from every crack, looking like a nightmare to touch.

Riki avoids a few more angrily thrown objects, using the momentum of his jump from the side of the building to zip from the top of a yellow fire hydrant to go from one side of the street to the other. “You’re slow!” He taunts, tucking in his legs to avoid a shot of electricity directed at him.

The screech of metal from the nearby hydrant can be heard as the top flings off, making Riki lose his anchor/ Before he can process it, instead of smoothly landing on the building, he crashes into it faster than expected, groaning when his back makes contact with the glass and he tumbles into the living room of someone’s apartment.

“Fuck,” he curses, fighting his aching limbs to get up once more.

And the solution hits him. Literally.

When he steps out and quickly attaches a web to the top of the building, he’s met on the way up with a splash of water from the hydrant to his face, and Riki splutters as he wipes his mask, regaining focus as he lands on the concrete and hides behind the ledge.

Water. If he can get it in contact with Spark and pour enough water on the right spot, the excess of electricity blazing from his mechanical body should work against him.

“Too scared? You should know better than to run away.” The superhero rolls his eyes, crawling away silently to avoid being seen by Spark. Riki does his best to look around for something, and finds a black flower pot in the corner, using a web to grab it before he scales the side of the building and runs away while Spark is distracted as the villain also climbs the wall to face him there. But when Spark climbs the ledge and scans the premise, Riki is nowhere to be seen.

Instead, Riki swings across the street and fills the pot with water, heaving the extra weight as he shouts out from the sudden pain in his side. He stumbles on the pavement, crying out from the injury as the pot falls with his whole plan.

Maybe this is where Spider-Man dies.

He sucks in a deep breath before rolling from his back onto his knees, ignoring the wound to pick up the flower pot. The hydrant still shoots out water, and the superhero rushes towards it, causing Spark to follow. He narrowly avoids another shot from behind him, reaching the yellow hydrant before dropping the pot on the ground. Spark is th

While Spark has always been intelligent, Riki could tell that the man didn’t fear the water, believing he’d be invincible to the elements now that his suit was perfected. There was something off, Riki could tell, and he would make sure to use it to his advantage. Spark was uncontrolled, and his powers drastically decreased the more he used them. There’s no way his body isn’t in overdrive with how recklessly he’s been letting himself get hurt.

Riki uses a web to get himself on higher ground instead of fighting, waiting for the supervillain to follow. If he could get Spark off the edge and fall into the growing puddle of water, it should slow him down.

Spark scoffs. “Run away, then. Like you always have.” Riki hears the wall crumbling under the villain as he climbs within seconds, immediately preparing to fight when he makes it onto the rooftop. But Spider-Man was also prepared, jumping from his crouched hiding position and attempting to catch Spark off guard.

All he can focus on now is pushing him off. There’s no way it’d be easy, considering he had to focus on his touching any of the electricity off of his suit. Riki delivers a kick to Spark in the ribcage near his heart, where he’s fused metal into flesh. The villain coughs before taking a step back, his metal arm reaching for Riki’s outstretched leg. He grabs it, twisting with anger before the boy meets the ground in a violent throw. Not only is the slam greater because of the enhanced strength, but the power seeps into Riki’s skin, leaving it hot from the energy radiating off of his palm.

The boy groans, flipping to his side to avoid a fatal hit to the chest. He reaches for Spark’s normal arm, swinging the villain’s body away with as force as he could to create distance between them.

Riki has been in enough fights to simply know when to run, even if he doesn’t know what’s coming. He could feel the tingle of the charge as it powered up, and with its energy so unrestrained and its user so unstable, the large attempt to hit Riki sends the villain stumbling back from the force. The more Spark uses his powers, the more likely he’s going to end up dead.

“Your skin can handle that anymore!” he shouts, getting ready to swing himself closer as a plan manifests itself in his head. “You’ll die like this!”

Spark seems to know that too as he wipes his mouth and recovers from Riki’s attacks.

“You think I care?” He shouts, desperately pressing his wounds to stop the bleeding. “You think I have anything else for myself?” The vulnerability of his character shines through as he clutches his bleeding wound without regenerative powers to help. “You think I didn’t know that when I did it to myself--what they did to me?”

Riki doesn’t respond, grimacing as he continues hand-to-hand combat. Although he takes a solid punch to his jaw that’s forming a deep purple bruise, he manages to trip Spark onto the ground.

The man stumbles back from the head injury, the pounding from earlier not letting him to think straight. Riki doesn’t try to injure him anymore, but he instead blocks an incoming punch and tries to force Spark towards the edge.

The villain barely notices how much space there is left, and the boy lunges with full force. They tackle each other into the ground, and Riki gets off after apprehending him once more.

The city's a mess, and Spider-Man’s eyes want to shut down so badly, but he takes a few steps in Spark’s direction, pushing him off the side of the building as quickly as he can. Riki hears the thud before he peeks over the edge, seeing the water erode all of the engineering from the machinery. He slowly descends from the rooftop.

“You were in the accident, huh?” Riki shouts on top of the plethora of sounds. Pain, buzzing electricity, splashes of water as he lands next to Spark; it all echoes in his ears as he pours the water from the pot on Spark’s body. “Why did you try it? Why did you want to go back so bad?”

“If I could go back,” Spark coughs, trying to get away from the large pool of water, “I could’ve prevented the accident from taking the lives of the people around me. I could’ve saved them.”

Spider-Man understands loss, and he understands the regret that comes with failure. He understands how the man in front of him feels after having everything taken away from him, but his emotions could never justify his actions.

“You know you can’t change things,” Riki responds, “You tried your best, Spark.” It’s the last thing Riki tells the villain before his body slumps and police sirens grow louder and louder. It’s the last thing that he continues to think about, even if the medic quickly assesses the severity of his wounds.

“I’m fine- really,” he pushes away the hands of a concerned woman as she holds a roll of bandages. “There’s something else I need to do.”

Riki knew he had to tell you about this–he couldn’t just let you confide in him about..well, him, without your knowledge. And Riki wasn’t morally perfect, but he knew an explanation would be the only way to fix things.

Your house looks different when jumping over the fence instead of standing in front of it. When he realizes he has no idea what room belongs to you, he racks his brain, suddenly remembering how yours was the only one with a gray balcony over the pool. And so he climbs, slipping from the exhaustion creeping into his body.

You’ll understand after he explains everything, right?

“____, a little help?” And what the fuck is Nishmura Riki doing outside of your door? You go to investigate the muffled sound, inching towards the curtains and pulling them back to expect him there. When you hear a half yelp and a hissing sound that follows right after, without a person anywhere in sight, your heart drops to its stomach.

Do not say it’s true.

“Riki, where the fuck are you?” you ask, traversing out when you don’t see him anywhere across the glass.

“Down here.” You run in the direction of the voice, and your eyes grow comically large and you gasp, staring down at the sight before you.

“Holy shit.”

There Nishimura Riki is, with his mask half burned off his face and his blonde and black hair messy and matted to his forehead with sweat. The suit is ripped in multiple locations with gashes and purple replacing the healthy skin underneath. His face is in more of a grimace, as he holds onto the web with both hands and one foot planted on the stone of your balcony—read; the bottom of your balcony.

“A little help?” And you see his sheepish emotion through the tattered fabric, embarrassed after you had to find him in such a compromising situation. “I’m a little worn out and I think my webs are getting weaker.”

You’re a little frustrated with him for being out so publicly, but more scared and worried for his condition. Your gaze narrows on the mask, tattered and covered with scratches, but clearly visible. It was Spider-Man’s mask. The material gives way to a familiar face, and your mind almost blocks you from putting the pieces together. It’s impossible, almost horrifying to think of the implications of what it means to wear the blue and red suit.

Instead of being the villain, Riki is, in fact, the savior.

The harsh truth is that your classmate, who you spent the last month working on a project with and suspected was a villain, is the same superhero that went out and risked his life every night fighting crime. It’s jarring to see him like this, breathing heavy and straining against the stone of the balcony, and his cough snaps you out of it. “What the fuck do I do?”

Riki tries to put his hand up in surrender and shuts his eyes at your harsh tone. “Okay, okay, I get-“ and he cuts himself off with a yelp as his footing slips.

He holds out his hand, and you immediately bend over the smooth railing to grab it, leaning back on the heels of your feet to help him up the most that you can. You’re filled with confusion when the boy hobbles over the cool surface of the balcony and lets his head rest on the stone, not saying much as he catches his breath. You watch the rise and fall of his chest and how his right arm goes to nurse the left side of his ribcage, wincing and sucking in a pained breath as he assesses the smear of red on his fingers.

Sitting there with your mouth agape, you’re not really sure what to think about first; to check if RIki’s alright, to think about how your city’s greatest superhero is your English project partner, to yell at him for going to your house instead of his house to fix himself up, or to think about how good his side profile looks in the moonlight. Maybe you should’ve just been relieved that the boy you started to like wasn’t a fear-inducing villain.

“Okay, first of all, we need to have a huge talk. But I’m not a medic Riki- I’m going into accounting for fuck’s sake.” He hears the amount of curses flying from your lips as you ramble, and sees how stressed you look watching him sit against your railing.

“I don’t know how to help you. And also,” you lower your voice and scoot closer, looking around at the large property to really make sure no one’s listening. “you’re Spider-Man?”

The information all hitting you at once is worse than when your history teacher told you your essay was horrible. At least then, in her office, you could process everything. But here? You’re about to faint.

“I’m pretty cool, huh?” And of course Nishimura Riki says such a thing, taking deep breaths as he shallowly presses on the blossoming bruises on his skin and wipes the sweat from his brow.

“Pretty fucking stupid is what it is, Riki.” You cross your arms and try to take a look at where he’s been hurt, hoping that at least he has some sort of regeneration ability that helps him heal much quicker—because there’s no way he could deal with all of this on top of school.

“I have my reasons,” he says, his voice quiet.

You pause. “For being Spider-Man?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “For coming here.”

“What could possibly make you want to come over to my house instead of the nearest hospital? What’s that important to you?”

“I really want to ask you to prom.”

You simply stare at him, surprised.

“You came to my house, even though you’re like, a punch away from passing out, to ask me out? And you couldn’t have, I don’t know, asked me anytime during the classes we have together?”

Riki somehow finds it in himself to frown and shrink from your angry piercing gaze. “I can’t because talking to you makes me nervous–so yeah, I’m sorry I’m half conscious on your balcony in my suit instead of at your door with a poster.”

You’re conflicted, your mind still reeling from the recent discovery and your flood of emotions. Ever since you questioned his identity on top of your feelings for him, you had a hard time really knowing if you could like Riki if he turned out to be a villain, so to know that he proved both of your theories wrong leaves you quiet as you think. If possible, the color in the boy’s face drains even more when you go back inside, but the door stays open, and he thinks he hasn’t ruined things after all. You emerge with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a bowl of warm water, and a pristine white towel.

“I’m not mad about that, you idiot,” you reprimand him, setting everything down as you examine the cuts on his face. You squeeze the towel and start to dab at his skin, avoiding the cuts as you clean it. “Who does this for you if not me?”

“Jake.”

“Seems like a pretty good friend.” Riki nods in response.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, sitting up to properly address you, even if you weren’t able to meet his gaze.

“For what?”

“For putting this on you–all of it. Not just the whole Spider-Man thing.” He knew he’d have to tell you at some point, or else it’d eat him up inside to know he kept all of it from you.

“Look at you, saving me mid-air and talking to me as if you didn’t know who I was.”

You notice a flash of regret through his wince as you clean up a cut with antiseptic. “I meant it when I told you I knew what it was like to have a lot of pressure.”

“Guess I wasn’t so far off, then. If we never talked, would you have told me?” Riki shakes his head, and the simple motion leaves you somehow disappointed.

“How do you ever tell anyone you’re…y’know, Spider-Man?” Even if it’s a hypothetical, you shrug, not being able to answer.

“How’d Jake find out?”

Riki chuckles and hisses at the same time before trying to remember. “I think I just kicked his window in after a nasty poison got hold of me. He was a little too excited to have Spider-Man on his bedroom floor, and less excited to know it was me. I’m not really supposed to tell anyone, though.”

“Then why’d you tell me? You could’ve just gone back to your friends.”

“I felt guilty–I know, I know, it sounds stupid. I’d definitely get my identity revealed at this rate.” You shake your head.

“Not stupid. Keep going.”

“I didn’t care that you suspected me, or if anyone else did, because I knew it was never true. But I felt so bad knowing you were sharing to me how you felt without even knowing it was me who was listening–like I was holding something from you.”

You admire his honesty, and when you look at his furrowed brows and his lip that he’s been gnawing from worry, you can’t even imagine what he’s had to hide and do for this. In a way, you look up to him more, for trying his best even if he’s gotten all odds stacked against him. Riki’s commendable in your eyes–he always had been, ever since you woke him up in class.

“I like those things about you, Riki. That you’re honest with yourself and the people around you as much as you can be, and you try to help others when you can. I’m glad we got to know each other more this past month.” Talking to him feels different than talking to Spider-Man from a few days ago; it feels raw, like you’re not just confessing something to a brick wall anymore. If none of this ever happened, you doubt you’d get the chance to tell Riki any of this properly.

The boy stays silent, taking deep breaths while processing what you’ve told him. “I’m glad I could help you out.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I hope you know I don’t like you because you help me out. I like you because you’re attractive, and because you’re genuine,” you blurt.

Riki laughs despite his ribcage hurting everytime he does so. Riki nods and mumbles a ‘thank you,’ also glad to truly get to know you. While his crush was more of an infatuation with your hard work and amiability, the past few weeks really opened his eyes to who you were. You never wanted to disappoint, and even if your recklessness left you in some dire situations, Riki could see how much effort you really put into things.

There wasn’t anything else he needed to tell you–you were smart enough to see how much he cared about you.

You’re so close, your lips glossy with lip balm as you watch him carefully. You hear and see it all; the heavy, labored breathing from his body healing itself rapidly, and the way his hand is full of rough cuts and calluses as his fingers intertwine with yours. But your eyes catch a glimpse of his mask tossed to the side, the blue shining in the corner of your eyes as you’re reminded of who he is right now, and what role you play. You are still ____ ____, but he’s a superhero.

It makes you momentarily forget whose suit you're peeling away, whose skin you're cleaning. It reminds you that he’s just the boy in your English class that you fell for. “What does that make us?”

“Prom-goers,” he answers with a slight nod.

You smile, wiping a cut before placing the towel back into the bowl for the last time and getting up. “We can be prom-goers, yeah.”

You’re not sure if you’re ready for anything, and you’re thankful that he understands that, too. As much as it warmed your heart to see him again and hear his confessions, the blaring truth still hangs over your head. You grab his mask, finally looking at him before handing it back and grabbing your things. His secret identity wasn’t something you could just ignore.

“Go home, Spider-Man,” you turn your back on him, and time slows when you falter before sparing him one more look. “I want you as Riki, not like this.”

MAYBE NISHIMURA RIKI DOESN'T NEED TO DIE–OR ALMOST DIE–ANYMORE.

He went home that night with his scars somewhat cleaned and his bruises miraculous healing on their own, and even if slipping through the window left him clutching his side in pain, Riki silently jumped up to celebrate his multiple victories before slipping out of his suit and finally getting some rest.

Riki’s scared of how he’s affected your relationship. He’s worried you’ll avoid him in the halls, and he’s worried you’d never want to see him again after putting you through all of it. As much as he'd understand how upset you'd be towards him, he hopes he did the right thing by telling you.

But you see him on your way to English, and you call his name. His eyes search for yours in the crowds, and you two see each other before you crush him in a hug.

Riki isn’t sure how to feel at first, but eventually wraps his arms around you as relief settles in his stomach.

“Thank you for saving me, Spider-Man,” you whisper, loud enough for only him to hear.

He smiles at you, ruffling your hair as you go to English together. “Anytime, ____.”

NEVERMIND, NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE SEES YOU IN YOUR RED PROM DRESS.

But first, he has to try something out.

He curses to himself when silently zipping from a tree outside your family property to the top of your house, staring past the ledge two and luxurious stories to your well decorated porch light and door. He just prays that Google Maps is right about how secluded the area is, so no one can see him pacing around your rooftop, with flowers elegantly wrapped in his hand (courtesy of your mother’s sleek envelope from a few days ago).

“Fuck it,” he says to himself, shooting a web and dangling himself down. Riki’s upside down figure watches swirled window frames and meticulously designed accents as he descends, and he wonders what kind of shady business your parents could’ve done to afford something so grand.

He faces your door—hanging down instead of rightside up, but he’s still here on time like he promised.

The door opens at 6:00PM like he instructed you to, but what he didn’t tell you what to do was shriek and slam the door. On his nose. With a loud yelp, Riki clutches his nose, rubbing the spot you hit and trying to apply pressure to alleviate the pain.

When the door slowly creaks open again, you face with the image of Nishimura Riki, aka your boyfriend, aka your English partner, aka Spider-Man, curled upside down in the fetal position as he cradles the sore spot on his face and swings slightly from the breeze.

“You scared me, dumbass! How was I supposed to know it was you? It was so hard to see!”

Although muffled, Riki’s able to mumble, “You have a porch light for this reason, _____,” and a jab at his stomach from you follows his sarcastic remark. Finally, his nose feels better, and he straightens out to finally look at you.

Pretty, pretty, pretty, and the boy wonders how you look even more stunning with a glittering red dress and perfectly done make-up. “I like the red,” he says, trying not to freak out over your beauty. “Reminds me of a certain neighborhood superhero.”

“I have some blue spider earrings to match.” With a beautiful smile, you turn to show him the little accent, and it melts his heart. “Are you okay, though?”

“I’m fine. I should’ve probably put more thought into that.”

You snicker, sliding into your heels and closing the door behind you.

“One of us is better at romantic gestures, it seems.” It warrants a scoff, and Riki brings a gloved hand to poke at your forehead teasingly.

“Let me have a do-over, then?” And the way your lips curl up into a bright smile leaves him quiet and in awe.

“What, were you going to kiss me? Very original, Spider-Man.” With the way the fabric shifts over his features, you can tell he’s pouting.

“I thought girls liked this.”

You shrug, pretending you aren’t swept off his feet by the effort he’s put in. Taking a step in his direction, your hands reach up to gently pull the mask over his chin, ears, and then his nose.

Whispering quietly, you ask, “You’ve kissed other girls upside down?”

Riki’s quick to shake his head. “You’re the only girl I’d withstand a head rush for.” And god, you just can’t stop yourself from grinning at his sweet, genuine words.

You lean in, placing a small kiss on his nose as a silent apology. Then, you close your eyes and lean into him once more, feeling his hands carefully holding the side of your head and his lips on yours. Your kiss with Riki is saccharine and slow, making you pull away when the urge to beam at him is too much. Your cheeks definitely hurt by how romantic he’s being, and you can’t resist kissing him once more.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he starts, finally letting himself down, “It feels weird.”

“You ruined the moment.” And he really didn’t, but you enjoy his subtle reactions to your light digs at him.

“Whatever.” Riki laughs. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You nod, sitting down on the porch and dragging a manicured nail over your lips with the ghost of his affections, thinking about how you literally just kissed Spider-Man.

Riki comes back, dusting off his suit and smoothing out the wrinkles, with a large bouquet of red roses and one blue one snuck in there. Your lips stretch into a grin and you accept the bouquet, keeping a mental note to read the card in there.

“You never cease to amaze me, Riki.” It’s the last thing you mutter to the air before you loop your arms around his neck, urging him to lean down as you kiss him once more—this time rightside up, but still as sickly saccharine as the one before it. Your heart is fuzzy with fondness and your eyes glitter with adoration.

“So, which kiss was better?” he asks when you pull away, a little breathless and dizzy.

You swat his arm and walk past the gates, seeing the sleek limo waiting by the curb. “I don’t know, Spider-Man. Maybe show up in your suit and we’ll try it again.”

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND ALWAYS READ!

RIKI FIC DONE!!!! ngl y/n u were right there how did u not know riki was spiderman but whatever idc she's a hard worker not smart LMFOAOAO. my first ever action fic so i hope you enjoy! also i hate the ‘oh he pined after her for 4 years she liked him for 2 months’ bs because I WAS IN IT. and it sucks so i tried to deviate from it :)

꣑ৎ permanent fic taglist (TAGGED IN TEASERS, FICS, HEADCANNONS, DRABBLES, ETC.): @dimplewonie @minleeeknow @heeheesang @mintpjzroll @llvrhee @firstclassjaylee @in-somnias-world @rairaiblog @suneng @mavlogist @sensitively-taken @sumzysworld @simpjay @moons-v @riksaes @txtari @jungwonscatcus @tya0 @sasfransisco @woorcve @shypen @pinkriki @rikisluv @saranghaohoshi @lilifiedeans @wonmyheart @k1ttyluvr @nikisgfff @ramenoil @laurradoesloveu @lvcky-g1rl-syndr0me @ikeulims @missychiefs1404 @qwonyoung23 @yangjungwonnie @onementally-unstabel-kid @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @blooqz @anormieee hi permies hope u enjoy! kith

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lady-ashfade · 9 months

Text

Our comfort

Platonic!Yan!Camp Half-Blood x Comfort!Goddess!Reader. (Percy, Annabeth, Grover)

—£ Yes I know I haven’t finish the book but I actually couldn’t wait anymore. So, this is me with little knowledge so bare that in mind.

—£ Warnings: Book/show spoilers, Yandere! Behavior, Being bound to a place, Possessive behavior, Obsessive behavior, Manipulation, Characters fighting for the reader’s attention. Short.

You weren’t a known for too long goddess, much younger then rest of the gods. A teenager like age compared to them. It was strange to have more powerful gods look to you for comfort but you love it. As you are the goddess of comfort.

But, as the other gods started to have many demigods you saw how miserable they could get. You hated the fact they didn’t care for their children so you decided to stay at the camp for half-bloods when the time came.

The campers cling to you. You bring a comfort they never quite felt before. It was like a warm hug, like the ones they wanted from their parents.

You couldn’t leave, and at the beginning you were glad to accept that fate.

Almost always you are found surrounded by demigods and they just relax in your comfort. You are the one they go to with every worry in their mind.

Being close to Aphrodite, her seeing you as a sister and a younger child. Stories of your love for one another are still told today, as she gave ideas to the mortals of how great your relationship was. But in reality there wasn’t much to tell.

So her children have a mentality that they are your favorite and because of their mother, they have some sort of claim to you above the others. But that never works because you love the children equally.

The demigods have less nightmares with you around and watching over them.

Ares children fight often for your affection. They will constantly get into fights with others to show they deserve more time with you. Which you always scold them but it never sticks. They kiss their weapons each time to you, like a sign of good luck. Aries children are one of the worsts ones because they get aggressive at times, even with you. But the golds make them stop by punishing them, mostly their father.

Hermes children are hard to explain really. They aren’t aggressive, but they are mischievous. They take their revenge of stealing things from the other campers, pulling pranks. Or trapping some of them up and go straight to you before they can get there. Luke for instance, is always looking around for you and talking about his day. He’s either laying down next to you, or making you watch him train.

Many games of all houses take place just for you.

AnnaBeth, is constantly by your side when she has free time. She scares off people with a glare behind your back, knowing that she could put plan them. She also trains and makes you watcher her and needs your praise. Maybe, somehow you are her older sister. But, sometimes she just chills by your side not saying anything, she’s like a lost duck at times.

Grover however is actually a lost duck. You comfort him when his past missions fail and he loses kids. You are so nice to him and makes him feel special and brave. When he has to leave he keeps a coin in his pocket with your face on it and prays a lot. He’s not possessive much. He’s willing to take what he can get and is just happy to be there. But maybe if someone comes in when he’s “crying” and having you fuss over him then he’ll be a bit mad but never does anything about it.

When a new camper arrives you devote your time to them because they need it a little more. They come into a world they know nothing of, waiting for the parent they hardly know to claim them. You claim them like your own until the time comes.

So when Percy comes you feel something off with him, like he is special and in need of a lot. He lost his mom, taken from the world he knew.

Percy becomes the most possessive out of all of them.

He feels out of place but you are always there to listen to him. It doesn’t help that you follow him to make sure he’s okay. At the beginning you’re both following each other around.

“It’s okay, Percy.” You brush his hair lightly like his mother used to do. “You’ll get claim, and you’ll have glory.” And he doesn’t care if you say that to everyone because you make him feel special.

Also, you protect the new bloods. So you’ll show up when he gets bullied and just raise one brow and they all back off. Can’t risk making you mad at them.

When Percy gets claimed he’s all alone again, no friends and the campers looking at him funny. Being one of the top threes son isn’t fun or easy. He shares a cabin all to himself.

So he starts to be the worst of them all. Raising his voice when you try and leave him and he manipulates you to stay with him. Can’t you see how alone he is?

He can’t sleep unless he knows your watching over him.

You pick no sides of the war. Your family will figure it out themselves, while you take care of their children.

#disney plus percy jackson #plantonic percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #yandere percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #platonic #yandere #grover underwood x reader #yandere annabeth chase #annabeth chase x reader #annabeth chase #grover underwood #yandere Grover underwood #yandere greek gods #yandere annabeth chase x reader #I stand peter Johnson

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teapartyprincess4two · 7 months

Note

Can i ask for a johnnie guilbert x reader where the reader is a friend of tara who is a very private person, so she gets know in the channel as "baby" and people start to notice that johnnie gets shy and is always looking somewhere off camera (to her)

A LOTTTT of pinning by johnnie (like so much it hurts)

And maybe at the end he confesses she kisses him and a lil sum-sum 😏

Thank uuuuu 😘

Babygirl- J. Guilbert

pairing: shy!reader x Johnnie

classification: fluff

warning: use of y/n, slight cursing, slow build up, Jake and Tara are dating in this, suggestive content but NO smut, very long

inspiration: request^^, Deaf, Mute, and Blind Baking, Becoming Tara Yummy for a Day

summary: You didn’t choose a life in the limelight, you were just famous by association, and now you’ve earned yourself the nickname “babygirl” by the entire internet.

—

Most people wish they had the fame you had, they spend their entire life reaching for an unattainable dream that fell in your lap by coincidence. They wish for the fancy cars, the expensive clothes, and especially to be so famous they’re stopped by fans on the street for a picture.

Tara, your best friend, was one of those people. She spent her childhood and teenage years fangirling over pop stars and YouTubers, hoping that one day people would be fangirling over her too. She worked hard to earn the platform she has today, bringing you along with her to the top. But you never asked for any of this.

At first her newfound fame didn’t affect you, you were just a recurring background character in her videos and would sometimes, but very rarely, have a main role in them. Although you tried remaining in the background, the internet is quick to get attached to shy, background characters and before you knew it the fans were begging for more content with you.

So now you and Tara are a well known YouTube duo and you’re featured in almost every one of her videos, most of the time opting to participate from behind the camera. You especially remain behind the scenes when Jake and Johnnie are involved, specifically because you’re never able to hide your crush on Johnnie and would probably die from embarrassment if the fans caught on.

Like today for example, Jake and Johnnie are over at your house filming. They’re filming a video they’ve filmed many times before, they’re turning Tara emo. The three of them are piled onto the couch, discussing topic after topic as Johnnie packs on black eyeshadow on Tara’s eyes.

“Ow, Johnnie. You’re hurting me!” she squeals as Johnnie accidentally pokes her in the eye with the bristles of the brush. You can’t help but giggle from behind the camera, watching as Johnnie becomes flustered. “Sorry! I only ever do my own makeup, okay?” he apologizes, not becoming any more gentle with his motions. Johnnie glances at you quickly, a smile forming on his face because of your laughter.

“Why are you laughing, Y/n? You’re next,” Jake chimes in, following his statement with a boisterous laugh. Your face flushes slightly as you reply with a laugh, “no I’d prefer not to be tortured.” Johnnie laughs at this, sending you a fake pout, “you hate my look that much?”

Your face becomes even more red, if that was even possible. You didn’t mean the comment like that. Tara, whose face is being attacked with makeup, chimes in, “No, Y/n is too babygirl for this.”

“Oh God, you’re making me sound so high maintenance,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief at Tara’s comment. “It’s true though!” she exclaims, turning to face you just as Johnnie begins applying eyeliner, causing a black streak to run from the corner of her eye to her hairline.

“Guys, Y/n is probably the most high maintenance out of the four of us. She gets a manicure exactly every two weeks, she gets her hair redyed like once a month, her room is NEVER dirty. She almost never ever has dirty laundry, AND she irons her clothes. Who irons their clothes?” Tara exclaims, flailing her arms in the air dramatically.

“So yes, she’s babygirl,” Tara’s talking to the camera now, completely oblivious to her appearance. You scrunch your name at the nickname, the internet tended to latch onto things like that, “First of all, you look ridiculous right now. And secondly, don’t call me that. I don’t need to be known as ‘babygirl’ for the rest of my life,” you reply, laughing as Johnnie tries to fix his mistake but fails.

Jake, who’s sitting on the couch next to Johnnie, straightens up and leans forward to look at Tara. He immediately laughs at the sight, the black eyeliner smudged all over her face. “You’re just mad that it has a nice ring to it,” Tara retorts, choosing to ignore the mess Johnnie made. You scoff, glad that the camera isn’t on you to catch how your eyes train on Johnnie.

“Okay, but doesn’t it sound cute?” Tara proposes the question to the boys, waiting expectantly for them to answer. Jake was always quick to agree with her, it was a trait she trained him to have over the years of their relationship, “yeah, it’s pretty cute.” Tara nods her head in triumph, turning to Johnnie for his response.

Johnnie doesn’t know what to say, he agrees that the nickname is cute, but he’s afraid he’ll say too much and expose his crush for you. “Johnnie?” Tara says, widening her eyes as she awaits his response.

“What was the nickname again?” Johnnie asks, trying to act casual. But if the cameras zoomed in they’d easily catch how his hands tremble as he fixes Tara’s eyeliner. “Babygirl?” he reiterates, attempting to sound confused and oblivious. Tara nods her head, causing Johnnie to mess up once again, but he’s too busy trying to keep his composure to care.

Coming from him the nickname doesn’t sound so bad, it actually makes you want to take back everything you just said. “Babygirl is cute,” he murmurs, sending you a small glance before quickly turning back towards Tara. You hide your face in your hands, trying to hide your flushed cheeks and the smile that won’t go away no matter how hard you try.

“Enough with the babygirl talk,” you groan, but you really loved hearing him say it.

—

From that moment on, you were known as babygirl within the fandom. You couldn’t escape the nickname no matter how hard you tried, and the fans loved teasing you about it. Whether it be through edits, Instagram comments, or tweets; the fans were always calling you the nickname.

Johnnie, Jake and Tara are currently filming yet another video, despite your protests. The three of them are standing behind the kitchen counter, with either tape on their mouths, earmuffs on, or blindfolded. They were trying to bake a cake, something they struggled to do even without the inhibiting factors, so all they were really doing was making a big mess.

They understand your hesitance with being on camera, so they never force you to make any special appearances, but you still loved to watch. You sit behind the counter, just out of view of the camera, watching in amusement as the three interact.

Johnnie keeps getting distracted by you, fumbling and stuttering his way through the intro. You watch as Johnnie struggles to find the supplies needed for the video, searching through every cabinet in the kitchen. “Every time Johnnie says he’s ready, he’s never ready,” Jake comments, adjusting the black beanie on his head. “Where the fuck did I put it? No, Jake where did you put it?” Johnnie replies, scavenging for the baking supplies.

“They’re in the pantry,” you comment, walking over to Johnnie briefly and guiding him towards the pantry. Johnnie smiles at you, grateful that there’s at least one sane person here to help him. The interaction was caught on camera, but you were too distracted to realize.

“Thanks babygirl,” Tara exclaims, bopping her head to the music blasting through her headphones. You roll your eyes, helping Johnnie take everything out of the grocery bags and sprawling them out onto the counter. Once everything is in order, Johnnie’s mouth is quickly covered with a sticker, but he’s happy he isn’t blindfolded because he can keep sneaking glances at you.

The entire situation was chaotic, none of them had any clue how to communicate properly and they had less knowledge on how to bake a cake. Jake’s arms were stretched forward as he tried finding his way through the kitchen, Tara’s loud singing making it hard for them to concentrate on one task alone.

Tara, who wore the headphones, was more focused on singing than the cake. You watch them intently, unable to stop yourself from laughing, “you need to whisk the cake!” Tara, who can’t hear a single thing you’re saying, repeats your statement causing you to burst into laughter.

Johnnie pulls out a plastic butter knife, deeming it appropriate for the task. “Get the beater!” Tara yells, following it by belting out song lyrics. Johnnie has no idea what Tara is talking about, so he sends you a pleading look. If there’s anyone here who’s going to help him finish this cake, it’s you.

“The whisk, get the whisk!” you exclaim, trying to talk over Tara’s singing as best as possible.

“What’s going on?!” Jake asks, one of his flailing arms slapping both Johnnie and Tara. Johnnie’s laughs are muffled by the sticker as he holds the whisk out for Jake, guiding him to the bowl.

“Babygirl?!” Tara is being so loud, her voice a good three octaves higher than normal. “Stop yelling!” you exclaim, but she ignores you and changes the song, continuing to belt out the lyrics.

“Y/n, we need your help,” Jake comments, stirring the bowl so aggressively that it was twirling. “We have no idea what we’re doing,” he continues, lifting the whisk up and blindly taking a lick.

“JAKE DON’T LICK IT!” Tara yells.

Johnnie’s laughter and shocked scream are muffled, his face scrunched up as he laughs uncontrollably, and you can’t look away. You wish you weren’t so shy, so that way you’d be able to join them in this fun activity without feeling anxious.

“This cake is going to be so bad,” you chuckle, catching Johnnie’s attention. His eyes linger on you for a little too long, a moment the fans were definitely going to clip and edit.

“What did you say?! Did you say my singing is bad?!” Tara is still yelling, following each and every statement with loud singing.

Many dirty dishes and a messy kitchen later, the cake is finally done. The oven rings throughout the kitchen, and Jake and Tara send Johnnie to fish the hot pan out. The cake didn’t look too bad, but considering you watched them make it, you weren’t too excited to actually try it.

“You have to wait until it cools to frost it!” Tara exclaims, the headphones causing her volume to be more than pleasant. Johnnie can’t respond because of the sticker, and he doesn’t want to wait for it to cool, so he continues haphazardly spreading the icing over the camera. Jake, on the other hand, is in his own world.

“That actually looks disgusting. It’s raw,” you gasp, watching as Johnnie lifts the spatula to reveal an uncooked, watery mess. “It’s undercooked!” Tara yells, her inability to hear you causing her to repeat everything you say in different words.

Johnnie’s muffled laughter is infectious, earning a string of laughter from you. “Let’s just eat it,” Jake suggests, facing the complete opposite direction of the group. The beanie on his head inhibits him from seeing the state of the cake, but even if he could see it, he would probably still ask for a bite.

“Wait let me help,” you get up from your seat and walk behind the countertop, immediately searching for something to serve the cake in. “This is gonna have to do it,” you hand Johnnie three plastic cups. He scoops up the raw batter, the liquid cake jiggling in the cup and running down the sides, immediately coating his fingers in frosting and batter.

“We’re gonna get salmonella,” Tara is staring at the goopy mess in shock, how had they managed to mess up such a simple recipe?

“I wanna see… I think we should take this off,” Jake yanks his beanie off, a fit of laughter attacking him as soon as he sees the state of the cake. Tara was subconsciously poking at it, creating a big hole in the center. Johnnie’s hands were full of chocolate frosting, and he held them up in exasperation as he waited for someone to remove the sticker from his mouth.

“Here lemme help you,” you murmur, gentle hands removing the sticker. Your touch lingers a little too long, but he doesn’t complain. If he had it his way, you’d have your arms around his neck and his lips would be on yours.

“Thanks, babygirl,” he whispers in return, loving how easily the nickname riled you up. You hated how much you loved hearing him say it.

“This is actually not that bad!” Tara’s boisterous voice breaks you two from the intimate moment, forcing you to reenter reality. “Try it,” Jake suggests, going back for a second scoop.

Johnnie is hesitant, but he grabs the cup and puts a spoonful of the raw cake batter in his mouth. His face contorts in disgust, but it couldn’t be that bad, could it? “Here let me try,” you take the cup from him, using his spoon to take your own bite.

As soon as the cake hits your tongue, you’re gagging. “Oh wow this is horrible,” you say, fighting the urge to throw up. They’re all laughing at your reaction, Jake pulling a long hair from his mouth in the process. “I love this hair, adds flavor.”

“Oh my God, I’m gonna throw up,” the hair Jake held between his fingers was only making the situation worse for you.

“See, she’s so babygirl,” Tara laughs, joking about the situation even if she found it equally as gross.

—

It seemed like your friends were always filming because every time the four of you hung out there always seemed to be a camera lurking not too far. Like today for example, Tara gathered everyone for a casual hangout, but once you arrived she explained that everyone was going to be living like her for the day. At first, you declined her invitation, making a lame excuse about not feeling good. But she begged and begged for you to be in the video, and before you knew it you were an integral part of it.

“Okay, since you guys are becoming me for the day, it’s only fitting that you dress the part. So, put on these track suits,” Tara says as she hands you, Jake, and Johnnie each a pink track suit. You’re trying to hide from the camera as much as possible, but Tara keeps pulling you back in every time you almost wander away.

The three of you shimmy into the outfits, immediately feeling the Tara Yummy essence wash over you.

“This is sexy,” Jake comments, admiring his figure as the sweatpants hang loosely from his hips. “I’m serving cunt,” Johnnie says, joining Jake in admiring himself. Their tattoos peeked through, contrasting the pink outfits entirely.

You emerge from the hallway seconds later, the track suit providing you with a newfound confidence, “I feel so stupid, but I also kinda feel like that bitch.” You stand still, allowing the camera to pan to you before hitting a dramatic pose. You turn around to show the camera the backside of the suit, the word babygirl written in curly white letters across your ass. “Slay, babygirl, slay,” Tara chimes in, strutting over to you and hitting the same pose.

“Let’s please not start with the babygirl jokes,” you groan jokingly, adjusting the sweatpants that kept riding up, you were starting to get a wedge. But you knew you weren’t going to escape the babygirl comments today, especially not with it written across your backside. It was like a label that you were forced to wear for the rest of the day, and the fans would surely seize the opportunity and run with it. To top it all off, the four of you were so well color coordinated that you looked like a 90’s girl group, ready to perform on stage at any moment.

“This is fun, but I still don’t understand why I’m being forced to do this,” you say, staring at Tara blankly.

“Because you’re my best friend,” she replies cheerily, offering you a big smile and booping your nose. It was hard to stay mad at her. She walks away, joining Jake as they engage in conversation.

“And you’re babygirl,” Johnnie teases, coming up from behind you unexpectedly, immediately causing a blush to form on your face. He loved watching you get flustered over the nickname. He laughs at your reactions, relishing every bit of it.

“Alright, first things first, time to eat. Mama’s hungry,” Tara says, ignoring yours and Johnnie’s interaction before facing the camera and leading everyone to the car. Jake and Tara are far ahead, leaving you and Johnnie to trail behind.

“It’s gonna be leaves,” Johnnie whispers to you, earning a laugh in response. He loved making you laugh. “Yeah, how much you wanna bet we end up at Health Nut?” you ask, settling the bet with a firm handshake between you and Johnnie. His hand holds a firm grip on yours, almost like he’s hesitant to let go as he says goofily, “$2, take it or leave it.”

As predicted, the four of you end up at Tara’s favorite restaurant; Health Nut. It’s no one else’s restaurant of choice, but you’re living as Tara for the day so it doesn’t matter what the rest of you want. You’ve been here with Tara enough to be familiar with the menu, so you order a simple salad and drink before moving to the side and allowing Johnnie to order. Once he’s finished ordering, he pays for your meals before letting Jake and Tara order.

Johnnie is playing it up for the cameras, trying to embarrass himself with his actions before the pink track suit does it for him. He’s sitting on a toddler chair and you stand next to him, choosing him as your comfort zone.

Because you always opted to remain behind the scenes, most of the viewers weren’t completely aware of yours and Johnnie’s dynamic. You two were always clinging to each other in uncomfortable or unfamiliar situations, making quiet jokes to make the other laugh. You both also had a huge crush on each other, which further served as a gravitational pull.

“Order for… babygirl?” the employee calls out, a hint of confusion in their voice as they read the name on the order. This immediately causes you to laugh out loud. “You did not do that,” you whisper shout at Johnnie, who held his hands up in feigned defense as he tries not to burst into laughter. You awkwardly grab the food, both of youwalking over to Tara and Jake’s table.

“Did they just call you babygirl?” Tara asks as soon as you’re sitting down. “Yes dude, fucking Johnnie told them that was my name,” you laugh, hiding your red face in your hands. They call out Tara’s name and she dismisses herself briefly to pick up the food.

“Let’s go!” She exclaims from the restaurant’s front door, bag and drink in hand as she pushes the door open and walks outside. “Oh, I guess Tara Yummy eats in the car,” Jake says sarcastically, the three of you following Tara to the car.

Once you’re in the car, you and Johnnie sit in the backseat while Jake and Tara occupy the front. “I wanted to eat in there, but you guys are so embarrassing,” Tara says, handing Jake his food.

She doesn’t give any of you enough time to respond, “you guys are already pretty embarrassing, but the pink track suits make us all look genuinely crazy.” She’s obnoxiously shaking her salad from the front seat, causing the entire car to rock.

“Damn, don’t gotta put your whole pussy into it,” Jake laughs, earning a sly remark from Tara. Soon, they’re lost in a conversation of their own, leaving you and Johnnie to talk quietly in the back seat.

“Why do you keep pushing this ‘babygirl agenda,’ sir?” You ask, both in true curiosity and to make light of the nickname. He blushes, mindlessly picking at the salad in front of him.

“Oh come on, don’t get all shy now,” you tease, piling up a good bite on your fork. He smiles at you awkwardly, preparing to admit something embarrassing.

“I think it’s kinda cute,” he admits with a shrug, taking a big bite of his food. Your eyes blow open in shock, this whole time you thought he was teasing you, but now it turns out he thinks it’s a cute nickname? “Don’t make fun of me,” Johnnie pleads in defense through a mouthful of food.

“I’m not, I just wasn’t expecting that,” you respond, trying not to be too loud. You couldn’t help it though, your giggles were soon filling the backseat. There was something about the confession that gave you hope that maybe you and Johnnie could be more than just friends. But you don’t want to get your hopes up, ir could easily all be for the video. You’re about to say something crazy and bold, but you’re cut off by Tara.

“Are you two done flirting? Cause I’m in the mood for coffee.” Leave it to her to ruin a sweet moment.

—

The day is finally over and the four of you are now wearing pajamas, reminiscing on the day’s events. Tara and Jake leave once the video is over, leaving you and Johnnie to lay on the large couch. The room is silent, but it’s not awkward, you’re both just catching up and joking.

“I was serious earlier, by the way,” he murmurs, staring at the ceiling above. “Yeah?” you say in a teasing tone, rolling over on your side so you’re facing him.

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “Yeah. If I’m being honest, I’ve had a crush on you for a long time. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed, I mean the fans definitely have.” You mindlessly play with the strings of your robe, subconsciously scooting closer to him.

“So that’s why you keep calling me babygirl?”

“Mmm yeah, mostly. I think it sounds cute,” he smiles down at you, your figure just slightly further down the couch. You feel a surge of confidence wash over you, something you don’t usually feel as a shy person, and straddle his lap.

He looks at you in shock, both arms limp at his sides. “Say it,” you whisper, moving your face dangerously closer to his. You use your hands to grab his, placing them on your waist. He feels excited, nervous, and shocked all at the same time, was this really happening?

You grind your hips down onto him, hoping to elicit a response from him. “Babygirl,” he whimpers, the sudden friction sending a shiver up his spine that has his hips bucking. You hum in response, finally inching close enough to connect your lips to his.

You’re in a heated make out session, completely obvious to the world around you. Johnnie’s hands are roaming your body, your hips are grinding down onto him, and your fingers are tangled in his hair. You kiss from his lips down to his neck, sucking and biting the delicious skin until you leave a hickey.

The situation is about to escalate, but Jake and Tara interrupt before it can. They saunter in loudly, both you and Johnnie jumping off of each other in shock.

“About damn time!” Jake says, applauding you both for finally make a move on each other. “Get it babygirl!” Tara laughs, joining Jake in his obnoxious round of applause.

“So annoying,” you groan, throwing a pillow at them and shooing them out. Once they’re out of the room, you and Johnnie share a sheepish look.

“You’re never escaping that nickname,” he chuckles, silently pulling you back on top of him. “That’s okay. If you’re the one saying it, I don’t mind,” you murmur, kissing him again.

“Okay, babygirl.”

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: Such a good request, I LUV being challenged with these specific requests!!! Hope I did it justice bby, I rewrote this like 5 times & had a different storyline each time. Also, I mentioned the famous hickey (💀💀) and I changed it from “baby” to “babygirl” because he mentioned that he’s “so babygirl” on Trisha’s podcast.

anyways, enjoy hunny bunches. Luv uuuuu

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

note: requests are open, I will be writing as many as possible because you guys have sooo many good ideas. Please be patient 💗✨

#teapartyanonreqs✨💗#johnnie one shot #johnnie and jake #johnnie guilbert oneshot #johnnie #johnnie guilbert x y/n #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert fanfic #johnnie guilbert smut #johnnie guilbert #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert <3 #johnnie guilbert headcannons #johnnie guilbert angst #johnnie guilbert x you #Johnnie guilbert fanfiction #i love my emo boyfriend

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yuujispinkhair · 4 months

Note

sukuna who's over heels with y/n, but y/n is stupidly in love with yuuji who is falling in love with megumi?!

Omggg I love this!!!! Thank you for sending me this 💗

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female)

Fluff. Hurt & Comfort. Friends to lovers. 2k words. Unrequited love/pining in the beginning. Sukuna and Reader get their happy end (Yuuji gets his happy end with Megumi). Mentions of cigarettes + alcohol. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

Sukuna can only shake his head at the irony. He is in love. He is fucking in love for the first time in his life, and of course, it has to be someone he cannot have! Out of everyone at this stupid college, it has to be the girl who likes his brother!

If it were any other guy, Sukuna wouldn't give a fuck and just flirt like hell with the girl he wants and give his best to steal her away from that other guy. But the problem is that Itadori Sukuna might be an asshole, but he isn't the type of asshole that would steal his brother's girl.

So Sukuna swallows down his heartbreak and forces himself to hold back, refusing to stand in the way of his baby brother's happiness. Sukuna might only be three minutes older, but he is still the big bro, still the one who sees it as his responsibility to look after his "little" brother. And Yuuji deserves it. He deserves a girl like you. He deserves your love. Sukuna will stay strong. He can do it.

But what Sukuna didn't take into account is how completely oblivious his brother is to your feelings.

You follow Yuuji around like a lost puppy, giving him hearteyes, practically swooning anytime he smiles his sunshine smile, hanging on his lips when he talks about his movie-directing classes and his new favorite TV show. But Yuuji doesn't seem to notice. And it makes Sukuna so mad! It drives him crazy! He almost spits his drink out when his brother gives you a high five and calls you "bro".

Sukuna feels sick to his stomach when he watches you wring your hands and shyly ask Yuuji if he maybe wants to go to the cinema with you to see the newest Human Earthworm movie. That super trashy horror series that Yuuji is always gushing about, which Sukuna is 99% sure you don't really like but only want to endure for the boy you have a big crush on.

But Sukuna's oblivious idiot of a brother just laughs and nods, happy that someone shares his taste, and totally misses the point,

"Yes, that's perfect! Let's also ask Megumi and Nobara to join us! Let's all go together! It will be so much fun!"

Sukuna thinks he can not only feel his own heart ache but also yours as he sees your face fall even while you force yourself to nod bravely and smile a sad smile at Yuuji.

It takes everything in Sukuna not to say something. But his restraint only lasts until he is alone with his brother. The moment the others have left, he shoves Yuuji into the wall, grabs his collar, and growls at him,

"You are so fucking dumb, brat! I would give anything to be in your shoes, but you don't even see that she wants you!"

And Yuuji blinks at him, all big eyes and completely confused,

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Sukuna lets go of Yuuji, slumping against the wall next to him, sighing and explaining the situation to him. How Sukuna likes you, and how you like Yuuji, and how everything is such a mess, and how much he hates it, especially when his little brother is too blind to see what he could have!

"Now you know, brat. Go, get her. Just don't rub it in my face, ok? I'll stay away as much as possible."

Sukuna pushes himself off the wall, about to run away and hide in some dark corner or maybe find someone to fuck and distract him from all this shit. But to his utter surprise, Yuuji's hand darts out and grabs Sukuna's sleeve.

"Wait, Kuna! I don't even have those kinds of feelings for her! There is... um... well, there is actually someone else I like."

He stands there, scratching his neck, looking sheepishly at Sukuna and blushing a bit as Sukuna stares at him with question marks in his eyes.

"Who??"

"Um, he has black hair and likes dogs and... ah shit."

And Sukuna can't help it. He bursts out laughing, doubling over because this is just so fucking dumb and messy and getting more complicated every second, and he probably should have known!

"Damn, brat, that really sounds like you! Falling for your best friend!"

In the end, Sukuna plays matchmaker for Yuuji and Megumi. It's easy, considering the way Fushiguro has been looking at Yuuji since the first day he met him. And yeah, Sukuna is not only doing it because he loves his baby brother but also because of selfish reasons. Because it means you will have to let go of your crush on Yuuji. Not that Sukuna thinks you will turn to him, but at least he won't have to watch you date his brother and pretend he doesn't care!

It feels like someone is stabbing Sukuna's heart when he watches your face twist in pain at the next party when you see Yuuji walking into the room with Megumi's hand in his.

But it will be fine! After all, Sukuna is here to catch you and mend your broken heart again. As a friend, at least.

He quickly follows you when you leave the room and run towards the backyard. You sit down on the slightly damp grass, and Sukuna joins you, sitting silently next to you while tears run down your cheeks. Sukuna offers you his half-smoked cigarette, and when your eyes meet, he can't help but think that surely you must see the pain in his eyes, too.

He quickly takes a sip from the bottle he is holding to hide the emotions threatening to swallow him while silently cursing himself for following you out here. He misjudged how fucking hard it is to look at you when you are crying. If only Sukuna could just close the distance between you and claim you as his, just kiss all your pain and his pain away.

But of course, he knows it would be too soon. For once in his life, Sukuna doesn't just want to be a one-night stand or a rebound or a revenge fuck or whatever. For once in his life, he wants more. He wants everything.

And so Sukuna is patient. Just offers you his silent company, his cigarette, his bottle of vodka, and his leather jacket when it gets chilly, and you start to shiver. He offers you his friendship, his protection, and the kind of comfort he can give without fucking you. He drives you home, makes sure you have something to eat and get some sleep.

He bangs on your door three days later when you still haven't come back to campus, calling you a brat and an idiot because it's the only way he knows how to show his worry. But he hopes he's making it better by shoving a vanilla latte and a bag with muffins from your favorite coffee shop into your hands.

Your eyes look puffy from crying, and you seem confused about what he is doing here, but you take the food and coffee from him. And Sukuna smirks at you and refuses to leave when you tell him you look like hell and don't want him to see you like that.

"I don't care, princess. Eat those damn muffins and drink your latte before it gets cold. I didn't stand in line for half an hour for you to just ignore my treats. And by the way, you always look pretty to me."

He stays until you had breakfast and took a shower, coming back to the living area with a soft,

"Thank you, Sukuna. It was nice of you to bring me muffins and coffee."

Sukuna finally leaves, lifting one tattooed hand to casually wave at you as if his heart isn't about to burst because he wants to pull you against his chest and hold you and tell you he can make you happy again.

He skips some of his classes and instead goes to the gym, working out like a madman and beating up a punching bag until he is too exhausted to think about how sad you looked and how fucking much he wants to kiss it better.

He comes back the next day to pick you up and take you to the coffee shop with him, making sure you leave the house and join the living again! It cannot be that you are crying your eyes out in your room all day!

"Stop complaining and get your bratty ass off the couch! It will be good for you to get some fresh air and shit. I am warning you if you don't put on shoes in the next 30 seconds, I will make you walk to the coffee shop in socks!"

Oh yes, Sukuna is good at this. Acting grumpy and playing the asshole while taking care of you and making sure you are ok. And somehow, you are the only one, apart from his brother, who can see right through him because you roll your eyes and laugh softly and tell him that he is the nicest asshole you have ever met.

The two of you fall into a routine where Sukuna picks you up every morning and has breakfast with you before he walks you to your first class. You constantly grow closer, and Sukuna feels his mask slipping more often around you. His typical arrogant smirk softens into a genuine smile. His snide comments turn into compliments. He isn't sure if he is doing it by accident or intentionally. Maybe he is only reacting to the way you act around him.

Because your gaze doesn't follow his brother anymore. Your face doesn't fall when you see Yuuji with Megumi. Your smile doesn't falter when you spot pink hair and realize it's the bad boy twin with the tattoos and not the good boy twin with the sunshine smile. Sukuna even feels like your smile is growing brighter when you look at him.

Could it be?

And he notices more things. Notices how you always sit so close to him now when he is at your dorm and you play video games against each other. How you always laugh at his jokes, no matter how sarcastic they are. Or how you look at him sometimes when you think he doesn't realize it. How your eyes get that dreamy little sparkle when Sukuna is sleepy, and his voice gets low and a bit raspy. How you get goosebumps on your arms when Sukuna puts his hands on your hips to steer you through a crowded room.

A few weeks later, Sukuna finds himself back at the same spot where all those weeks ago, it all began. Sitting next to you in the grass in the small backyard of your friend's dorm, where you cried when Yuuji broke your heart.

But tonight, you aren't crying. Tonight, you are smiling and throwing your head back, laughing at some dry joke Sukuna makes, looking so carefree and happy. Your shoulder is brushing against Sukuna's biceps, and your hand lands on his thigh, giving it a playful smack and staying just a little too long. And Sukuna can't help but say in that low voice, you seem to like so much,

"You are so beautiful."

For a split second, he feels his chest tense up, scared that he fucked everything up. Scared that he got it wrong and you still want his brother. Or maybe some other guy. Scared that you only see Sukuna as a good friend. Or that you only see him the way the whole campus sees him: as that sexy, asshole guy who is only good for casual sex and nothing more.

But then you turn your head to look at him, and Sukuna sees that soft expression in your eyes, the one he used to see on your face when you looked at his brother. But now it is for him, for Sukuna. And he simply knows without you having to spell it out. He knows that things have truly changed.

So, Sukuna decides to do what he wanted to do for a long time.

"I am sorry that you cried the last time we were in this backyard. But I am not sorry for why it happened. My brother is an idiot for not wanting you like that. But I am glad he is an idiot because otherwise, I wouldn't be able to do this..."

And Sukuna puts a hand under your chin, cupping it with a gentleness he didn't know he possessed while looking deeply into your eyes, checking one last time if he really got it right. You look at him with wide eyes, but you smile and nod softly as your gaze travels down to his lips.

And Sukuna sighs and presses his lips gently against yours, kissing you like he never kissed someone before, slow and gentle, as if he is scared you will break or slip through his fingers. A kiss with his eyes closed and his chest filling with a warmth he didn't know until now. A kiss into which Sukuna pours all the secret longing he felt for you for months, all the feelings he tried to hold back for his brother's sake and then for the sake of not fucking things up.

But finally, he doesn't have to hold back anymore. Because you chose him. You chose Sukuna. You are sitting here with him, with your hand in his hair and your lips moving slowly against his, a happy sigh and a soft murmur of his name falling from your lips.

The two of you only stop kissing when Sukuna's head is already spinning from the lack of oxygen. He pulls away only enough to grin at you and stroke your cheek with his thumb. And you smile back at him and whisper,

"I am glad, too, that Yuuji turned me down. Because otherwise I wouldn't have found out that it's his brother who is my perfect match. I wouldn't have found out that you, Itadori Sukuna, are the one I like the most out of everyone."

AAAHHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 😭😭 Thank you so much for sending me this ask. I see Sukuna + unrequited love/pining and I lose my mind!! It's my weakness and makes me so so soft for him (even more than usual).

I hope you liked this little hurt/comfort story!! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna #sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #ryomen sukuna

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sweetinsaniiity · 3 months

Text

Sick, Little Games

► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - psycho!blackmailer!mingi x fem!reader!Y/N ◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜/𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 - smut with plot, blackmail, gaslighting, Mingi is kind of a dom!, restraint (via rope), public sex (fingering), semi-exhibitionism, hair-pulling, reluctance, corruption kink, it becomes consensual, creampie, no protection (do NOT do this!), cum swapping/transferring, fluff, falling in love ◄ ► 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - MDNI, violence, mentions of rape, sexual assault ◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 20K (I swear I tried to make this shorter) ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - All you wanted was to go home and relax on a Friday night, so you take the subway. There, you encounter a man whose character prevents you from leaving. No seriously, he literally prevents you from leaving by tying a rope on your wrists while holding the other end with his big, strong hands. The rope isn't the only thing those hands will hold tonight. ◄

► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - Welp this one is a little darker, let me know if I missed a couple of tags. This is a work of fiction and is not meant to represent Ateez in real life. Join the taglist here. Title from All Time Low. ◄

Home is all I ever wanted to be right now. The thought of my warm, cozy bed with me on it buried under my fluffy blanket is making me walk faster towards my destination - the subway.

I sighed in relief when I noticed there weren't many people, in fact there was literally no one at all except maybe the occasional passing of the cleaners and one man who was standing idly by the edge of the platform, I'm assuming he was also waiting for the next train.

I could feel his eyes staring me down even though I stood ten feet away from him. Maybe he was surprised to see somebody still waiting like him? Either way, when he didn't look away, I knew I had to make small talk to make things less awkward.

"It's finally the weekend now, huh?" I greeted him.

He was tall, maybe at six feet give or take, and he wore jeans partnered with a black blouse underneath a blacker cardigan that hung nicely against his toned frame.

He tilted his head at me curiously and a slow smirk creeped up on his face. "Yes, it is. What's a lady like you doing out here so late at night?"

"Oh, I have a part time job at the restaurant a couple of blocks away from here, shift ended late," I replied cheerily.

He raised a brow up. "You look awfully young to be working."

"No, well, technically I'm still in university."

"Oh? Where?"

"Seoul University, I'm in my third year."

A slight smile tilted his thick lips upward. "Interesting. I graduated there three or four years ago. How are you liking it so far?"

I glanced at nowhere in particular to give it some thought. "I suppose it's okay," I shrugged, "I only have one year left anyway."

He bit his lips and nodded slowly. "Third year's usually the time when you get sick of what you're doing and you end up hating everything."

I giggled in amusement. "Well that's an interesting way to look at it, you've been in my shoes once so I understand."

He stares at me deeper, his smirk growing wider. "Too harsh?"

"No," I shook my head. "You were just telling the truth."

"I suppose I was," he chuckled. "What's your name?"

"Ah, I'm Y/N," I said without missing a beat. "You?"

He hesitated for a couple of seconds before he replied. "Call me Min for now."

I frowned. That was odd. Your name isn't usually something you think about because it's an automatic response.

"Pretty name for a pretty lady," he coolly puts his hands in his jean pockets.

I grinned at him. "Glad I have your approval, Min. Are you always like this to people you see on the subway?"

I saw a small shiver go through him before he pursed his lips. "Maybe," he shrugged. "You never know who crosses your path one day."

Something about his tone and the way he said it made it sound like he hit the jackpot, but I ignored it. Maybe it was just in my head, I mean, I am pretty tired today.

It got silent again after that. I was finally able to stare at him a little better.

He was insanely handsome - hot, actually - he had short, dark hair that was equally messy and slicked back neatly, and it didn't help that he wore these black, thick, squared type glasses, and it made him look so charismatic.

I looked at him again when his deep voice startled me. "I don't mean to bother you, but do you have the time on you?"

A mild shiver passed through me, the good kind. His voice was deep. I cleared my throat. "Uh yeah, sure, give me a second..."

He hummed while I took a glance at my phone. I saw him eyeing the phone. "It's a quarter past 10."

He nodded in response, dragging a heavy sigh. "Getting impatient?" I asked in amusement. He scoffed softly.

"Patience is a virtue," I joked.

His sharp eyes pierce my doe-like ones, darkening significantly. "I am not known for my patience," he smirked.

I frowned at his bizarre choice of words, about to retort something profound back, but the distinct sounds of the oncoming train made me swallow my words.

"About damn time," I muttered.

"Patience is a virtue," he mocked.

He started walking towards me with slow, but long strides. He didn't break eye contact with me while doing so, and my heart started erratically breathing. The way he walked reminded me of a predator stalking its prey.

I brushed my own thoughts off, that was just absurd. I tried to calm myself by breathing in and out and by the time he reached where I was standing, the train was almost here anyway, so I just ignored him.

Suddenly, I felt him wrap his arm around my waist from behind me. I gasped loudly when his hand squeezed the fleshy part of my waist painfully.

"What the hell are you doing, Min?" I growled, turning my head around to scowl at him, but it was no use. Besides the fact that he was tall, his firm chest pushed out and prevented me from looking at him.

"Don't move," he whispered, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine, the bad kind.

He pulled me flush against him and now my back was completely touching his frontal body. It sent my body on overdrive and I thrashed this time to try to get free, but it was no use.

"I said," he put his other hand on my shoulder. "Don't move."

The train stopped, the door directly in front of us. I was petrified at this point. This man can do anything to me and none would be the wiser.

After what seemed like forever, the train finally departed and that's when I snapped out of whatever trance I was in.

"Wait, don't go!" I wailed at the moving train, but it was no use. I despaired, that was the last ride until the next day.

I heard him chuckle from behind me, I felt his chest rumbling at the sound. It all happened so fast; one second he turned me around to face him and the next thing I knew he was tying a rope around my wrists as tightly as he could.

"Should've been louder, maybe someone could have heard you," he paused, looking down on me with his sharp eyes. "Then again, I would have just covered that pretty mouth anyway."

"Wait, please don't do this," I whimpered.

"Why not?" he asked, not stopping from tying a series of complicated knots on my wrists, each tug tighter than before it, but surprisingly, it didn't hurt.

"What do you mean why not?" I couldn't help but snap at him. "You're insane!"

He didn't respond, he unfurrowed his thick brows, once he was done with the last knot. He, then, wrapped the other end of the rope with his own hand.

His face didn't give away any sort of emotion as we stared at each other with what seemed like an eternity. I grew fearful of this man, there was no way I could fight him because he was much, much bigger than me even if I tried.

I tried to back away, but there was only so much I could do because the rope would stop me and tug me back.

"Don't come any closer," I raised my hands, or rather, my fists since my wrists were bound together.

He tilted his head inquisitively, still staring at me impassively. I panicked, tugging my hands as hard as I could and wiggling my wrists to try and loosen the thick rope, but all it did was give me rug burns. He sighed, tugging the rope once, making me pause at my ministrations.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked in a small voice.

Shrugging, he tugged on the rope again, this time a little forcefully, but not enough for me to get dragged to him.

"No, wait, please," I pulled my hands harder, stronger, making his brows rise. "Please take it off, I-I'll give you money."

He smirked. "No."

"But--"

"No offense, angel, but I will probably make what you make in two weeks within a day."

"So you don't need me then," I laughed nervously. "Please, just take it off, I won't tell anybody."

Crossing his arms, he shook his head. "I'm not taking it off."

"Why?" I was scared, nervous, desperate at this point.

Min tugged the rope for real this time, I had no choice but to walk to him begrudgingly.

"Because I don't want to," he whispered. He was so close that I could smell the minty gum he was chewing on. "Come here."

He had the audacity to smile at me as he pulled me against his chest again, this time, facing him with my tied wrists between us. "Much better," he mumbled.

I narrowed my eyes on him. "Is this what you do in your spare time? Do you always have a rope on you?"

He raised a brow in amusement. "No. First time actually."

I tried to wiggle away from his vice grip. "Please don't hurt me."

"Never," he shook his head.

"So let me go," I pleaded.

I swallowed, my blood running cold against my veins. There was only one thing I could think of, then. His eyes roamed over my face, as if he knew what I was thinking.

"I'm not going to do whatever you're thinking," he sighed. "I'm not going to fuck you."

"Kind of hard not to assume you're not going to force yourself on me," I chuckled with no humour, cheeks blushing at his crudeness.

"Only if you want to," he grinned. He sighed when he saw no response on my end. "I will not hurt you so long as you don't fight me."

"Let me go then."

"No. I'm not going to repeat myself." It was a flat declaration and there was an underlying threat in his voice.

"How long are you going to take me captive then?"

"Assuming that I'll even let you go in the first place," he shrugged.

I stared at him in horror. I felt his hand on my arm, the ghost of his touch tickling me, higher and higher up until it reached my hair. He stroked my hair like a parent soothing their child.

I gasped when he slightly tugged on it, I was expecting a sting on my scalp, but nothing. He went back to stroking my hair again, then tugging it ever so slightly. I made the mistake of sighing at his touch.

"You like that?" he murmured.

I didn't respond. I felt confused like I have never been before. Not to say that I'm happy that I was a prisoner in his arms, but my body began relaxing before I knew it.

He started tracing random patterns on my back, rendering me even more confused. Strands of my hair were also tucked behind my ear. "Pretty," he murmured again. "It would be a shame if I just..."

I groaned when he tugged my hair a little harder, enough for me to look up at him, but not enough for him to pull my hair out. "Ow!"

"Stop trying to untie them," he pointed at the wrists. "It's not going to work."

I gritted my teeth aggressively. Damn it, I thought, I thought he wouldn't notice me tinkering with the rope as he played with my hair and touched my back.

My eyes widened when he slowly leaned forward, his face getting close to mine. I panicked, a short burst of adrenaline rushed through me as I pulled myself free from his grasp.

I swung my fists forward, a shocked look passed through Min's face, barely missing his face he quickly ducked down to avoid my hit. I squeaked when he grasped my wrists painfully and pushed me away rather roughly.

"Not bad," he laughed. "That would have been really bad if you actually hit me, yes?"

I ran off in a hurry, but quickly got stopped by the restriction the rope gave me. I hissed in pain, it had managed to dig into my skin a bit and leave red, angry welts on it.

Min frowned at me, his eyes softening as he stared at me trying to soothe the pain. He stood looking at me a few feet apart, his hand outstretched a bit towards my direction as if he wanted to beckon me over.

"You," I exhaled. "You stay where you're at, and stay away from me."

His lips twitched up in delight. "Or what?"

I blabbered like a fish, my mouth agape as my brain went into overdrive. What the hell is wrong with this man? I must've said that aloud, because the way he grinned at me with a look of amusement was making me nervous.

"I'm going to scream," I informed him.

He smiled. "Go ahead."

And so I did. I screamed, I yelled, I shouted, I screeched like a banshee like my life depended on it - well, technically, it does - and I did this for five minutes straight, but nothing.

I wasn't soft at it either, I was yelling. Min was leaning on a nearby wall with his arms crossed, silently watching me and letting me do my thing.

I was extremely frustrated at this point. Now that I think about it, it's extremely abnormal to have absolutely nobody around, but then, I remembered that it was a Friday night and everybody was either already resting or getting drunk out of their minds. It didn't help that the subway was also underground.

"It's just you and me, doll face," he stated, biting his bottom lip and chewing on it a bit. "Save yourself the trouble."

"You can't possibly keep me here forever," I scoffed at him.

He nodded slowly in acknowledgement. "I don't see why that's a bad idea."

"If you think I'm not going to put up a fight with you, then you're sorely mistaken," I sarcastically remarked, pausing when I felt my wrists sting again.

"I'd like to see you try," he chuckled, the sound of his raspy voice echoing all over the station. It further solidified the emptiness of the place.

I thought about my next move carefully. He doesn't want money, and to be fair, I had nothing much to offer anyway. He's calm and collected, that means he knows exactly what he is doing. He has a rope, for God's sake, what else can possibly have?

"I'd really like to go home now, I'm exhausted and I have no time for your games, Min, seriously," I pleaded, hoping to try my luck on the poor damsel distress act.

"You don't really have to do anything," he shrugged. "I'm not going to make you do what you don't want to do."

I raise my brow at him with a sarcastic lift of my tied hands. He laughed a little. "That doesn't count," he laughed, his chest rising up and down.

I scoffed loudly. "What?" I barked. "Are you for real? How deranged are you? Why are you really doing this?"

He watched me intently, staring at me directly in the eye without blinking. His sharp eyes made me so uncomfortable, like he was undressing me from where I stood just by the motion of his eyes.

His lips lift into a smirk. "Because I can."

Steam started coming out of my ears. I don't care if he kills me or does whatever he wants, I was mad. "Really? Is your birthstone crystal meth?" I sassed, rolling my eyes at him to emphasize my point.

Min raises his brows so high his thick glasses couldn't cover them, then he looks down on the floor, but not before I saw the smallest smile on his face. It was probably the most genuine one I've seen tonight. He was trying not to laugh.

"What a mouth you have, you sweet little thing," he chuckled. "How about you come closer to me right now?"

"But you said you're not going to make me do things I don't like," I frowned.

His sharp eyes narrowed, staring into my wary ones. "And I stand by that."

He pointed at my wrists with his index finger. I didn't realize he was wearing a lot of rings on his hands, but this one in particular had a nice black ring. "That looks like that hurts."

I stared down at my wrists. Indeed, they were close to being ugly and painful blisters because of how much friction I was causing them, friction I barely noticed because of the adrenaline rush and survival instinct to free myself of this damned thing.

"It does," I admitted. "Because you're letting me suffer by not letting me go."

He shook his head. "That's a strong word. I can make it better," he offered softly.

"How?"

A sly smirk makes its way on his plump lips. He pats the wall beside him, his stare not wavering a bit. "Come," he said softly.

I rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised they didn't get stuck behind my head. "Absolutely not," I snapped. "I'd rather let my wrists rot."

"You sure?"

He was waving a tube of a familiar generic ointment you'd see everywhere, the cocky twinkle in his eyes palpable. I gulped, the stinging sensation on my skin getting a bit more intense at the sight of what could be temporary relief on my end.

But alas, I chose to turn around and ignore him. I heard him sigh loudly from behind me and the distinctness of his cardigan rustling as he moved from his position.

"Seriously now," he began. When I still had my back turned on him and still completely ignoring him, he sneered. "Alright, whatever, I guess."

I peered over at him and saw him leaning back on the wall with his arms crossed again, staring me down. I hissed loudly when I accidentally angled my arm wrong, causing the rope to dig in a bit and rub against the sensitive parts of my skin.

"Fine," I scowled. I held my hand out in the air. "Toss it."

He laughed, his deep, hoarse voice booming towards me. If he wasn't such a jerk, I might have found that sexy. He grinned, taunting me by wiggling his fingers back and forth.

"No, no, no, sweetie pie," he sneered. "You're going to come here and get it from me."

The colour from my face drained. I bit my lip apprehensively, and I didn't miss the dark and dismal look in his eyes. I don't want to go to him in case he does something shady, but is it better than being restrained?

I scowled at him. Unfortunately, nothing was better than this. My legs felt like lead, heavily treading towards him. He gave me an amused look because I had to crane my head upwards just so I could look at him.

I couldn't help the blush that reddened my ears. Darn this man, he was unfairly good looking. The way he looked at me made my insides flip upside down with anticipation and I did not like it one bit.

"Well?" I asked impatiently.

"Actually," he clicked his tongue. "I don't think so."

My brain had a major explosion. I widened my eyes at him. "That deal has already sailed," he smiled, patting my nose with his finger. "My God, you're cute," he commented when I grimaced at him.

"Please, they really hurt," I whined. I wasn't lying at this point, I had sensitive skin due to eczema and the littlest irritation can lead to the worst flare ups that usually last from a couple of weeks to a month depending on how bad they get.

He stared at me with a blank expression, though it is not to be mistaken with nonchalance, no. I can tell he was already calculating in his head on what he should do next.

He puts a finger on his chin, lightly stroking his thumb over it as his scorching gaze pierced through mine. I gulped when he suddenly brought his glasses lower on the bridge of his nose as his eyes peered from above the thick glasses.

His eyes were much sharper than I thought they were when the glasses weren't obstructing them. I had this urge to fold in on myself when he studied me deeper. I have never felt this exposed in my entire life before and I was fully clothed. Warmth spread on my entire lower groin.

"Hands up," he instructed, pushing his glasses back up. I was told and he held the knots that bound me. "I'm going to untie you so I can apply the ointment."

Before I could celebrate the tiny hope he had given me, he continued. "If you try to run away," he said softly, still looking at me. "I'm going to force you back. I don't want to hurt you."

I nodded. His fingertips trace my whole arm, smirking when he noticed the goosebumps he had caused, all the way down to my wrists. My breath hitched when he blew on my blistering skin to attempt to calm the redness down.

"I know it hurts," he whispered, his tone soothing my ears with tenderness. "Hold still, yeah? I promise I'll be gentle..."

He worked on the complicated knots he had made, tugging at them until they slowly loosened. He gently and carefully lifted the rope off and caressed the sensitive skin underneath, and just like that I was untied.

Then I made a run for it.

I ran as far as my legs could carry me, and before I knew it I had ran deeper into the isolated part of the station, but I didn't care as long as I could get away from that lunatic. I'll find somewhere temporary to hide and wait until he leaves so I can---

I screamed when I felt strong arms wrap around my waist, and before I knew it, I was lifted up and hoisted over Min's left shoulder, my bottom up in the air and my legs flailing around.

"Put me down!" I cried, hitting his back with my fists angrily.

"Behave."

I shut my mouth at his clipped tone. I did, however, let out another scream in surprise when I felt his hand come down my behind harshly.

Spanking my ass was definitely the last thing I thought he'd do in this ridiculous situation. I was tempted to smack his butt back since it was literally in front me, but I decided against it.

"You're being an awfully naughty girl right now, don't you think?" I can practically hear the smirk on his voice as he walked a bit.

I was set down rather delicately, but I can't say the same when he pushed me against a nearby wall because it was rough. I whimpered when he grabbed my hands and put them up and also pressed them against the wall.

"What are you going to do to me?" I whispered.

He was so close to my face, so close that if he only leaned a bit our lips would touch. "What would you like me to do to you?" he asked, his voice huskier than normal.

"Let me go."

"Except that."

"I will report you to the authorities, someone has to find us eventually," I threatened, or at least that's how it sounded in my ear.

He tilted his head in amusement. "With what information?"

He was right. I only have a first name, but not a family name. He laughed, but his grin didn't quite reach his eyes. "You can tell them the name I gave you, if that is even my real name, then yes, by all means, sweetheart."

I mustered up the courage to speak. "So what is it, then?"

"Why do you wanna know? So you can scream it for me?"

I looked at him in disgust. "Seriously," I rolled my eyes.

He chuckled lightly. "Hands. And no running."

This time he actually applied the ointment for real on my hands. The way he spread the soothing balm all over the affected area made me sigh in relief, to which he smiled. If we weren't in the most unusually messed up situation right now, I might have swooned at how sweet he was being.

He was a wolf in sheep's clothing, however. The rope was back on my wrists, albeit looser this time.

"Are you going to tell me your real name?" I inquired as we both sat down on the filthy floor of the subway station, our backs leaning against the cool wall.

He met my eyes, the brown orbs analyzing me. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"You're insufferable."

"What are you willing to give me in return?"

I paused, genuinely thinking about it for a moment. I sighed in defeat when I couldn't think of literally anything. But his smirk told me otherwise.

"What are you doing?" I asked apprehensively at his onslaught.

My eyes widened when his fingers traced my cheeks, down to my jawline, and towards my lips. I was frozen on the spot. "You should moisturize your lips often, love," he whispered.

He pulls on my bottom lip and gently sticks his fingertips in between my lips. "Open up for me."

I put my bound hands on top of his to attempt to push him away, but he was stronger. "Are you being serious right now?" I gaped at him.

"Tick tock, the deal won't be on the table for long," he shrugged.

I glared at him. "You'll give me what I want if I do it?"

His smirk widens. "Yes."

I sighed in defeat, opening up my mouth ever so slightly, but his long, thick fingers forced them to open wider anyway. Butterflies started to form in my stomach and I looked everywhere except him. God, this felt weirdly intimate for some reason.

"Suck."

"Now hold on just a minute," I backed away, effectively swatting his hand away in annoyance. "You did not just ask me to do what I thought you did."

"But I did," he replied cockily.

"I can't believe you!" I exclaimed, incredulous at the ridiculous request.

I was so annoyed at this point and I wanted nothing but to bang my head against the concrete floor after I banged his.

"You know what to do if you want something out of me," he was tracing my lips again with his finger.

I heaved a long sigh, swallowing all the pride I had and grabbed his arm and with that, I put his index, middle, and ring finger in my mouth while I maintained eye contact with him.

He stared at me with hooded eyes, his gaze significantly darkening with every passing second. He let out a deep groan when I made slurping sounds as I lapped his fingers like it was the tastiest thing I have ever had. I swirled my tongue all over his fingers and even gave his palm a lick.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down repeatedly, especially when I bit his fingers softly. I alternated between that, licking, and as well as sucking. I was definitely being filthy with it, and it was absolutely humiliating to do whatever this was.

His other hand pushes my head off gently and he withdraws his fingers from my mouth. He sighed sensually when my drool dripped down from his fingers to all over his hand.

"Here," his voice was thick. I froze when he traced my lips again, but this time, he coated them with my own saliva. "Now they're not dry anymore," he smirked.

He didn't stop there. I stopped breathing when he put the very same fingers in his own mouth. He chuckled at my dumbfounded expression.

The desire that flashed through his eyes took me aback a little when I realized I was trying to discern his taste by smacking my mouth obnoxiously. I blushed, I wasn't doing it on purpose, he had this salty, sensual taste to him that took my breath away.

"So, uhm, what is it?" I questioned, not missing the tremor my voice now held.

"Oh. It's Song."

I waited a couple of seconds for him to continue, but when I realized that he wasn't going to, my patience thinned significantly. "That's it?" I hissed. "Song what?"

"That wasn't part of the deal, you have to be specific next time," he shrugged with his eyes closed, but I can see a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Ugh! Have you no shame?!"

He slowly opened his eyes, staring at me intently, then leaned a little closer to my face. "If I did," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave lower. "You wouldn't be here right now."

I instinctively leaned away from him. "At least you're aware ," I mumbled.

It must be closer to midnight now, I can feel it, we've been at this ridiculous game of cat and mouse for a while now. I sighed deeply while I pictured my cat, King, waiting for me home. It's a good thing I overfilled his water and snack bowl today, I just had a gut feeling. Unfortunately, I was correct.

"Penny for your thoughts, water lily?" he asked all of a sudden.

I scoffed, not even bothering to look at him. "None of your damn business," I spat.

"That's too bad," he chuckled. "I was hoping to barter an exchange with you again."

That made my ears perk up and my eyes twinkle, but I wasn't buying it. He's cunning, sly, and manipulative. There was no way in hell I was trusting anything he said at this point.

A certain slashing sound sliced through the air and in my peripheral vision, I saw Min holding something in his hand and twirling it around like it was a toy.

I whipped my head back towards him in curiosity and his smirk grew wider at the small gasp I let out.

"Change your mind yet?" he questioned with a beam.

There was a softness to his appearance in conjunction to his rugged features. Truth be told, he was probably the most attractive man I have ever seen in my life and I don't think I will ever find another one that will come close.

I scoffed. "Not only do you have a rope, but you also have a pocket knife on you like it's the most normal thing in the entire world."

I groaned, swinging my head back and the back of it against the wall in frustration. "What the hell is happening to me lately," I cursed.

I felt something soft instead of the hard wall when I leaned back again.

"What can I say? Having both is part of my work," he muttered, his hand sandwiched between my head and the wall. "Stop before you hurt yourself."

"Work? Well, what are you? A mobster?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He blinked at me a couple of times before he burst out laughing. He was actually laughing, and my heart jumped at the pleasant sound. I stared at him as his body vibrated with mirth, his eyes formed into these tiny crescent as they disappeared from his mouth stretched out in a charming grin. Even his laugh was so damn attractive.

"Why?" he grinned, wiping an imaginary tear from underneath his glasses with the same hand that held hy head from the wall. "Do I look like one to you?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, frowning at him. "Are you?"

He surveyed me when he calmed down, gauging I was serious at knowing the answer to my question, but after a moment, he shook his head as he watched me carefully.

"No," he denied with a small smile.

Another laugh escaped him when he saw my irritated expression and amusement was all his eyes showed as he watched me try to cross my arms but failed since my hands were literally bound together and it was borderline impossible to even do anything remotely close.

"Uncomfortable?" he clicked his tongue.

I glared at him intensely. "What do you think?" I hissed, extremely annoyed at the fact that I can't even do anything. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

He nodded in acknowledgement. "I am," he replied, angering me. "Very much so, actually. But I'd enjoy it more if you'd just give in to me."

"Not a chance," I jeered with an aggravated sigh. "So if Min isn't your real name, what do I call you then?"

"Min's good for now," he shrugged, twirling the knife again expertly in his nimble hands. "And what a shame, I can be good for you, you know?"

I wanted nothing but to slap the smug look on his face to oblivion. "I think I can live without knowing what that's like," I snorted.

His brows knit together. "Suit yourself," he shrugged. "I guess we'll be here for a while."

When he saw me glaring daggers, no pun intended, at the small pocket knife he held in his hands, he twirled them faster, tempting me to just stand up and kick his balls as hard as humanly possible so I could get it.

But along that was the underlying fear that I truly didn't know what he truly wanted with me. That, alone, makes me even more terrified of being here.

I gulped apprehensively and his face switched to something else when he noticed. "You're not going to use that on me, are you?" I pointed at the blade.

He shook his head. "No. Not now, not ever. I told you, I'm not going to hurt you. I don't want to hurt you."

"Besides," he continued. "If you come to me by force, then I don't want it."

He smirked at me suggestively, to which I scoffed softly, but loud for him to hear. "I'm too good for you," I rolled my eyes at him.

Well. Not entirely. In any normal circumstances, someone like him wouldn't even be in the same room as me. I couldn't point my finger at it at first, but a man this self-assured and dauntless must be someone of higher authority and money, I was sure of it.

"That, you are, my peach," he agreed. Something surges in his eyes when he noticed the blush that covered my cheeks.

God, his eyes. There was a lifetime of struggle in there that has never been put into words. His face in general, he was out of my league.

He glances at my bound wrists and for a second, I thought he was going to set me loose. My eyes widened when he put the sheath back on the blade and set it aside, instead.

"What?" he taunted. "You don't want to cooperate."

I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath in defeat. "I'm at a total loss right now. You want me to exchange you something, correct?"

He nods enthusiastically. "But not the knife?" I quipped.

"I don't want to let you go yet," he shook his head.

"I am aware..."

A small smile forms on his face as his brows shoot up, waiting for me to continue. "But I have nothing more to offer you," I rambled. "I have nothing on me that will interest you."

"And that, my little dove," he hummed. "Is where you're wrong."

Hot, red anger coursed through my veins when he dug into the pockets of his black cardigan and took out my wallet.

"Where did you even get that?" I seethed.

He shrugged. "Take a wild guess."

I wanted to scream in disbelief. He must've gotten his hands on it when he carried me earlier. I had a terrible habit of putting my wallet in the back pocket of any pants I wore.

"Even if I let you go, how would you get home?" he said. "Taking the subway meant you lived a decent distance from here."

He was right. Walking was out of the question because if I did, I would walk three hours. The subway cut the journey into half an hour.

I stared at him, calculating how I would get my wallet out of his claws and taking him down at the same time.

"Don't even think about it," he laughed. "I'm much bigger than you, and you know it."

"What do you want, Min?" I sighed in desperation. "Tell me what is it that you want so you can let me go, what do you want from me?"

He tilted his head to meet my eyes, slowly jutting his arms out to reach towards me and touch my chin lightly. He titled my face gently in his direction, and I was able to meet his eye as well.

"I want you," he spoke softly. "You would think that tying you up would make that very obvious."

I couldn't look away from his burning gaze even if I tried; I could have held it forever. His eyes were dangerously penetrating, he looked pure male at this very moment.

"Tying me up is not the solution, though, you psycho," I frowned at him.

"Humour me this," he uttered, waving his hands in the air as he spoke. "It's almost midnight and when you get to the sub, there's a big, scary man waiting in there, wanting to say hi..."

He paused, waiting for me to internalize the imagery. When it dawned on me, I sighed. "See what I mean, babygirl?" he chuckled.

"Don't call me that," I snapped. "Also your logic is ass."

He smirked, ignoring my statement. "Call you what?"

My scowls deepened when his eyes slowly trailed down from my eyes to my chest. He laughed when I lifted my wrists to attempt to hide them, but there was no point. I growled for him to look away, but of course, he was who he was and he only stared at me, not saying anything back.

His gaze wasn't uncomfortable, rather, there was a hint of wonder in them and it made my breathing constricted and shallow.

I know that look - it was scheming. The lasciviousness in which he stared at me was shamefully making my core ache, the patch of wetness staining my underwear was proof enough.

He sat straighter and his form, especially his upper torso, became bigger. He inched closer to me. "Kiss me," he whispered breathily.

There was a bomb that went off in my brain. I blinked owlishly at him. "Excuse me?"

He bit his lip to stop himself from smiling. "You heard me, Y/N. I want you to want me."

He licked his lips, his eyes clouding over when I shivered involuntarily when his deep, sultry voice said my name like he was praying for me to say yes.

His brows raise and his eyes widen a bit when I start to advance, leaning my face very slowly towards his face. His Adam's apple bobs up and down and his eyes flutter close as he held his breath.

Instead, I went to his ear as closely as possible and whispered, "Go kiss the wall instead, you sick fuck."

I didn't know what else to say, but more so, I didn't want him to see that he was getting to me little by little. He was manipulative, calculating, and conniving.

"God," he let out a groan that sounded like a tortured animal. He closed his eyes tightly as if in pain. "You're such a tease, little tart..."

He banged his head a couple of times on the same wall he stopped me from banging my head down. He rested his head on it for a while.

I couldn't help but stare at his face and how peaceful it looked when his face was relaxed. I couldn't believe this was the cocky and arrogant man that held me hostage.

He suddenly opened his eyes and they were darker than I previously saw, his smirk was dirtier too. "I'll give you your wallet back if you kiss me."

"Are you kidding me? Seriously?" I shrieked exasperatedly. "This is essentially blackmailing!"

"Call it whatever you want," he grinned. "But yes, I do agree."

"Now you're just doing this on purpose! You're going to get what you want anyway, why don't you just do it?"

He paused, his brow raised. "Okay," he shrugged.

Before I can process what was happening, Min lifted me from the ground and placed me on his lap, and now, I was straddling him. His heavy eyes were the last thing I saw before he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me towards his lips.

"Wait--"

I whined on his lips, trying my very best to push his hard chest with my fists, but all that did was instigate him to wrap his arms around me and pull me even closer.

Surprisingly, he wasn't rough with it, but he wasn't gentle either - just desperate. I felt his tongue lick my lips, pushing them apart. He moaned lowly when I wasn't giving in, and his moan got louder when I unconsciously scratched his chest at those unholy sounds.

"Baby, please let me in," he rasped, his lips giving mine little kitten pecks as he spoke through the kiss. "Here, take this."

He momentarily broke the kiss and put my wallet in my pockets for me. I was frozen, I could feel both of our heartbeats going very fast, and I gasped when his hand squeezed my hips firmly.

"I can't do this," I said breathlessly.

He hushed me, leaning in and kissing my jawline slowly. I tensed under his touch, and he stops to hold my face between his hands.

"Relax," his breath was shallow as he looked me in the eye. His intense eyes lingered on my nervous face. "I'll be gentle, okay? Just give in to me, kitten, please."

He was about to lean again, but his black glasses kept hindering the movement. He cursed under his breath as he tried to adjust it.

"Take it off for me," he demanded, his voice taut.

"How?" I gulped, my brain blank with all the overwhelming sensation he was giving me.

"Use your teeth."

Panic started to take over my body. I could feel it trying to push itself out of my stomach, my chest, my throat, my head. I wanted to throw up. I whimpered when his hand went up to my waist and pressed on it, a jolt of pleasure shot down to my clenching wetness.

I swallowed, leaning towards his face, tingles spreading through my scalp as his eyes never left me as I took the black frame in between my teeth and spit it out.

I gasped when I saw his eyes, not because of how heated and impassioned they were, but because of what they literally looked like - dark, seductive, desperate.

I felt my heart constricting tightly. He was painfully beautiful, and looked so dangerous.

"Come here," he growled, crashing his lips against mine once more.

I gasped in pain when he roughly tugged my hair back. I was so taken aback when he forcefully put his tongue in. I refused to let my tongue play with his, mewling and struggling from his hold.

"Oh," I moaned quietly when he bit my lower lip, suckling it gently with a force that knocked the air out of me.

"You're insane, doll, the woman you are," he voice was thick with lust. "You're turning me on even more."

"Stop!" I squealed in abrupt pleasure when his hips bucked up, his hardening erection suddenly pressing on my clothed mound.

An animalistic growl tore out from his chest when he dominantly grabbed my ass and started pushing me in and out, manually grinding me on his hardness fast and hard.

"Oh my fucking God," he grunted, burying his face on the crook of my neck as he pulled me harder. "Oh, God, oh, shit.."

I was moaning along with him, pathetically savouring the feel of my warm heat dry humping his bulging hardness. I was ashamed of myself, for imagining how big he was based on how he felt.

The only thing to be heard in the empty subway station was our breaths, filthy kissing sounds, and the obscene moans from the both of us. Desire flowed through us, causing our bodies to melt against one another

He pulled away for a moment and I blushed at how red his face was and how bruised his lips already were. "I need to touch you," he croaked. "Can I touch you? I--"

"Hey, did you hear that?"

Cold reality washed over me as if a bucket of freezing ice was poured from my head in one go. I pushed him as hard as I could, as hard as my shame would take me, crawled out of his lap with disgust.

"Wait," he hissed, grabbing me by the arm as he stood up. I whimpered at his demeaning tone, but also how roughly he held my arm.

"Silence," he growled at me. "There's people in here."

The look on his eyes as he stood up and looked around, surveying the area to find the source of the random voice we just heard from the distance was alarming, and they frightened me.

I was disconcerted, I just made out with this man, and how was now compared to what he looked like underneath me was a contrasting difference. His sharp eyes were terrifying, one look will have you submitting to his control.

I paled. I had almost forgotten was dangerous this man actually was - that I was his prey to consume, and he was determined to play with his food before he devoured it.

He pulled me in front of him, pushing me lightly as he guided me to walk until he reached a dark corner that would hide us from anyone. It's not the best hiding spot, but it was the fastest we could find.

But wait a minute, why were we hiding?

It was as if he knew what I was thinking and he covered my mouth with his hand before I could muster up a scream.

"Do not," he warned. "Nobody goes in this area unless they're looking for something," he paused, tensing up behind me. "Or someone."

My eyes widened when it clicked. He was right, this area was a well known spot for mob deals and other shady businesses. It was an unspoken secret that everyone knew, but chose not to comment on. An infamous eight-membered group ruled this area frequently, and while they never deemed terror, their name alone sparked chills on everyone.

Footsteps got closer and closer until there were two people who stood on the spot where me and Min were sitting down. I froze, they were mobsters - the black suits gave it away.

"I could have sworn I heard something in this area," a man with a shorter stature murmured, looking around in the darkness with a stony face.

"'Have' is the keyword," the other taller man with the most intimidating face mocked. "I'm going to kill him when I find him."

"Relax, Seonghwa. Don't get your panties in a twist."

The taller one, Seonghwa, glared hard at his companion. "And I'm going to kill you with him, Hongjoong, if you don't shut your face."

My captor scoffed lightly behind me, his breath fanning my ear. I elbowed him to shut up, and his jerk reaction was to tighten his hold on me. I wanted to scream, I didn't even notice his arms around me.

I felt him lift my hair up and move it to the side to expose my neck. I dug my nails on his arms at the pleasure he gave my sweet spots.

"You smell so good," he whispered sensually, sucking on my neck. I stifled a moan when he bit hard. "I want to hear you so bad," he groaned.

While the two mobsters bickered back and forth, there was me and Min hiding in a dark corner, hoping to not be seen, yet he's making it utterly difficult.

I staggered backwards, my mind swirling with nothing but bliss, my breaths shallow and heavy. His hands slowly trekked upwards..

"Wait no, please, we can't do this here," I pleaded, quickly stopping his hand from fondling my tits.

"We sure can," he pushed my hand away forcefully, but I used my other hand to scratch him.

His body stiffened. "That wasn't very nice of you," he jeered. I gulped.

My paranoia triggered when his other hand wrapped around my throat, choking the words out of me. Whatever false sense of hope I had that he wouldn't hurt me when out the window.

"You've been testing me, little doll, and quite frankly?" He was indifferent, his voice not betraying his emotions. "I am getting sick and tired of it."

"Please," I whimpered when he squeezed the sides of my neck. "It doesn't feel good..."

He chuckled, something sinister lay brewing underneath. "But it does, don't lie to me."

I clawed his hand repeatedly, but he wasn't budging. "You said you wouldn't force me to do what I didn't want," I cried quietly.

"I know," he agreed. "But your eyes are telling me otherwise."

He pulled on the rope, forcing my wrists down permanently, as he went and did whatever his desires told him to do.

"Are you gonna be good if I let your neck go?" he asked in a deceptively soft voice. I nodded apprehensively. "That's a good girl."

He unbuttoned my blouse just enough for my bra to get exposed, and I had to suppress a moan when cold air hit my skin, but not for long as Min's hand hastily pushed my bra down to fully expose my average sized tits.

Soft groans escaped him as he roughly fondled them in his hands and I couldn't help my own groans. "Hush," he kissed my neck. "You don't want them to hear you."

He put his fingers at my open mouth and I used them to plug the sounds of pleasure threatening to spill out of me. God, his rough hands felt too good against my skin.

His mouth was on mine again as he held my stiff nipples with his nimble fingers. It sent jolts of desire all over my body.

"Do you feel good?" he murmured in between the kisses. When I ignored him, he bit my lower lip. "Answer me, love."

"Mhhm," I hummed, and he seemed to let that go for now.

I gasped when he squeezed them hard, the overstimulation of him alternating between rough and tender almost made me want to come undone. All I could do was mewl as he toyed with my body.

"I'll go to the other corner, Joong. Keep looking there," I heard Seonghwa mutter before his footsteps receded. I almost forgot they were still here.

"Doesn't the thrill feel good?" Min smirked, attacking my neck again and leaving pretty bruises on them.

"For you," I sighed. "You're the only one enjoying it. Seriously, how can you do this? How can you take advantage of me while we're supposed to be hiding from the mafia?"

"Ever so sarcastic, my pretty princess," he snorted.

While one hand massaged my tits, the other went south - going lower, lower, and lower until I felt him stop at the hem of my pants. My heart rate picked up.

"You're going to enjoy it too," he said softly. "I'm going to touch you, okay? I want to feel you, I need it so bad..."

The desperation in his voice caught me off guard, it shamefully made my pussy clench onto nothing as wetness covered it entirely.

"A-And if I say no?" I stuttered.

"I will push you out and give you to those two turds out there."

My blood ran cold. "You wouldn't," I gasped. He wouldn't let two mobsters who can kill me take me, right?

"My queen," he whispered, possessively pulling me closer in the tight space we were hiding in. "Remember this, I have never, and never will, given you opportunities where there was no way out of them."

I gulped. He was right, and I hated him for it, but that's what made him manipulative - he would give me these options that he carefully crafted and no matter what I chose, it will always end up with him getting what he wanted one way or another.

These options weren't for me to feel safe; he was merely giving me a chance to do things the easy way or the hard way, but either way, they were still his way.

"You were doomed the moment I laid my eyes on you," he stated darkly. "Oh, my sweet little peach..."

I closed my eyes tightly as he worked his way inside my pants, cupping the throbbing heat of my core. He nudged my legs apart with his foot, but I wasn't giving up.

"I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" he exhaled a sharp breath. "Relax, love, I'm going to make you feel good, I promise."

"I'm scared," I whimpered with raw honesty. Danger was still looming around us with Hongjoong and Seonghwa lingering around the area.

He didn't reply, instead he brushed his plump lips all over my neck and my now exposed shoulders. I couldn't help the tiny moans coming out of me as he worshiped my body gently. I suppose it worked, it calmed me down.

I heard his sharp intake of breath followed by a throaty moan when I leaned my head back against his shoulder so he could have access to my neck. "Stay like this," he groaned.

"Please," I choked when his fingers pushed my underwear apart and gently rubbed my slit up and down.

He grunted deeply, hungrily. "This is for me, yes?"

I whined at the absence of his touch when he pulled his fingers out and quickly reddened at the sight of his fingers coated with my juices within seconds of touching me.

It was obscene and it shouldn't have been so arousing, the wet sounds coming from my pussy when he parted my lips with his fingers again, but this time, he went straight into my clit, rubbing delicious circles on it.

My moans were borderline pornographic when he finally inserted a finger inside me and stars blinded my vision for a bit when he pinched my nipple at the same time. He slid his fingers in and out with a fastening pace, the wet sounds of it echoing all over the corner we were in.

"Shit, baby, your cunt feels so good, oh God," his deep moans kept hitting my ear and he smirked when I became impossibly wetter. "Say you want more, Y/N."

I whimpered in protest when his fingers stopped all of a sudden. "Fucking say it, then. Say you want more," he demanded with a furious growl.

"I want more!" I cried, tears falling from my eyes. "Please, Min, just please, I-I want more---ah!"

He roughly drove two fingers back in me and I could have exploded when he licked my tears. His long fingers were deep inside me, curling them as he searched for that particular spot. I bit his arm to avoid being too loud when he found it.

This angle had my swollen clit directly on his thumb and he applied pressure just enough until I started tightening on his fingers.

"We're leaving, there's nothing in here."

I'm not sure if that was Hongjoong or Seonghwa at this point, but I didn't care to know, I didn't realize how weird it was that they were announcing it at this time, not when Min had finally let loose when he practically dragged me out of our hiding spot.

He hastily took his cardigan off, set it down on the floor, and pushed me down on it so I could lay down on the floor. I yelped when he roughly shoved my pants down, leaving me completely exposed to him as he loomed on top of me.

And just like that, his fingers were back inside me again, sliding them in and out of me. The way his face looked in this light, I will never forget it. He looked more fucked out than me and he was the one getting me off.

"I-I think I'm, uhm," I moaned when his fingers down there got rougher, faster, harder and he just stared at me with lust-filled eyes as he finger fucked me.

"Tell me what you want, Y/N," he groaned.

I feel my orgasm approaching me fast and hard like an oncoming train. He finger fucks me even faster than before as he took in my pleasure filled face.

"I'm so c-close," I moaned loudly. "M-Min, oh shit, Min---"

"Mingi," he grunted, his eyes never leaving mine. "My name is Mingi."

He leans over to kiss me quickly before leaning up again. "I want my name on your lips when you come, okay?"

"Mingi!"

With that, I let go. Wave after wave of pleasure plummet my body and I scream his name, his real name. He was moaning with me and I saw him resisting to close his eyes so he can watch me come until I was exhausted and shaking, until he couldn't.

"Say my name," he growled, leaning down and burying his head on my neck as he slowed his fingers down. "Say my fucking name."

My throat was hoarse by the time I was done wailing his name. I was out of it for a while, Min - Mingi - kept giving me tiny little kisses here and there wherever his lips touched. He shushed me as he let go for a while, pulling out and sucking the fingers he used to make me come.

I watched him put my underwear and pants back on as if he didn't just give me the most mind blowing orgasm. When the ecstasy subsided and died down, I wept.

"You're okay," he would keep assuring, lifting me from the ground and embracing me in his hard chest. "Shh, don't cry. You did so well for me..."

He buried my face on his shoulders as he embraced me, patting my back soothingly as I let my tears fall from the overwhelming feeling my body felt.

I am so ashamed of myself. This was wrong. I wasn't supposed to want my captor, the one who kept blackmailing me. I felt immense guilt and distraught. The pleasure I felt was so good, but it made me feel so dirty.

"I am no different than a harlot," I sniffled against his skin.

He sighed deeply. "You're not."

We stayed like that for a while - me just letting my feelings pass and him patiently waiting for me to finish. He would whisper comforting words as he gave me pecks here and there, wiping my tears away. It felt so wrong.

"So," I cleared my throat, pulling away from him and sitting beside him instead. "Song Mingi, huh?"

He nodded. "How do I know you're not lying?" I questioned, the doubt clear on my face.

Mingi looked a little offended. "My queen," he spoke. "I may have tweaked our deals a little bit, but I never lied to you once."

I hate how right he was. "Stop calling me that," I murmured. "It feels a little intimate. Why do you keep calling me that?"

Mingi smirked at me, taking my wrists in his hand and working on the knots. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

My eyes widened. "No," I rejected. "No more deals, please."

He laughed that deep and attractive laugh of his, concentrating on untying the rope, tugging on it repeatedly, until it became loose, and he guided my hands until I was completely free. I breathe a sigh of relief, pulling my hands to myself and stretching them over and over to make them mobile again.

"What's the catch?" I frowned. He wouldn't just do this for free.

"God, I love how perceptive you are," Mingi remarked flirtatiously. "But no, nothing. I just want to get you cleaned up."

He juts his finger in a random direction. "I have my car outside, we can clean you up there. I have water too. Then you can go."

I was at a loss for words. "Really?"

"Really," Mingi confirmed.

When I gave him the 'go' signal, Mingi proceeded to carry me in his arms, swooping me in one go, and he carried me like a blushing bride. I wasn't a bride, but I was blushing. I knew he was strong, but this was crazy strong. I wasn't the lightest person out there.

I didn't even protest when he started walking out of there, I was too tired to argue, and I saw his eyes twinkle when I leaned my head on his chest as he walked.

"You were never going to ride the train in the first place, weren't you?" I whispered all of a sudden. He had a car outside of a subway station.

Mingi raised a brow as he looked down on me. "No."

"And those two mobsters, the mafia, they were looking for you."

He was smirking this time. "Yes."

"You were going to escape from them, weren't you?"

"Sure."

"What do you owe them?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer that, my queen."

"Please?"

Mingi pauses, staring at me. Then he sighs and relents. "Money."

"Is that what was in your backpack?"

"Do you actually want to get fucked? You're still very sentient, babydoll. Maybe my dick will shut you up---"

"You forgot your glasses inside!" I blurted out, my voice raising by one pitch in embarrassment. I felt my face heating up with his straightforwardness.

Mingi gives me a confused, incredulous look before he opens the door to his car and sets me down comfortably on the plush seats. "I never needed them," he cryptically said.

"Nice ride," I murmured, taking in the luxurious interior and the modern technology attached to it.

He hummed in response, handing me a bottle of water to which I drank greedily. It could have been poisoned, but at the moment, it was the least of my concerns. He lowered the windows so I could also use the water to rinse my face and hands.

"What now?" I questioned.

Mingi gave me a small smile. "You can do whatever you want, go home if you will."

"You sure?" I blurted out before realizing how stupid that was.

He laughed, realizing it as well. "I'm sure, Y/N."

It felt surreal at the moment. It was as if what happened between us was just a figment of my imagination, and it made me even more anxious. It was a little too easy.

"How am I gonna get home at this time," I sighed to myself rather than question it. It was well after midnight and the buses were all gone at this point and I didn't have enough money to get a cab.

"You know how to drive?" he lazily asked, looking at the distance out into the empty city.

"Yeah, I do," I replied, not sure where he was going with this.

Mingi nodded, tossing me the keys, and I caught it in surprise. "She's all yours," he said.

My eyes widened. "W-What?"

"The car, Y/N, it's yours now," he chuckled. "Drive home, and take care of her for me, yes? She was my favourite."

"Hold the hell on, Mingi," I blabbered. "Are you high right now? You can't just say things like that!"

"Think of it as a gift," he shrugged.

I stared at him in confusion when he got out and walked around the car, knocking on the passenger window where I was. I quickly crawled to the driver's seat and pressed the window open.

"H-How about you? How will you go home?" I stammered, genuinely concerned. "I'm just borrowing your car, right?"

He smirked, shaking his head. "No. Don't worry, I have more where that came from."

"You used the money you stole from the mafia?"

His eyes widened a bit before he burst out laughing. "More or less," he snorted. "But seriously, do you not like it?"

I scoffed. "Of course I do, this is a Bugatti, for fuck's sake!"

"Ah," he dismissed. "It's a Centodieci, it's not that much."

Damn right, I thought. I suppose I deserve this after all the crap and assault he subjected me to, but still, it felt wrong.

When he saw me biting my lip, hesitating, Mingi chuckled, and he was about to answer, but headlights suddenly blinded both of us. "Well," he spoke, tapping the car twice. "My ride's here."

My heart lurched out of my chest. The way Mingi was looking at me, I can't stand it. He was looking at me like I was the brightest star in the universe and the best thing he could do was stare at it because he couldn't reach it. Mngi began walking away, straight to the other car, but I stopped him.

"Mingi, hold on," I called out. He paused from his steps, looking back at me expectantly. My words got stuck in my throat, and the only thing I could say was, "I'll see you around."

He chuckled, low and sinister, and I was thrown into a whiplash. "You don't want that, doll, trust me," he shook his head. "Don't tempt me right now."

"W-Why?"

He opened the door of the other car, leaning on it as he stared at me with a dark look in his eyes. "I'm giving you a chance to run," he professed.

Right. I forgot how manipulative he was. "So run, Y/N, run far, far away," he continued, a daunting smirk on his face, "Because you're mine if we meet again."

And with that, he got in the car and it drove away, leaving me to stare at it as it disappeared from my view.

What did that even mean?

I drove away, apprehensively I might add, to get home. It was a breeze, I hate that I am now very in love with it. I got extremely dizzy when I realized it was voice powered too. Out of curiosity, I asked how much this car cost.

Bugatti Centodieci, top of the line, costs $8.8 million dollars as of 2024...

I almost swerved off the lane when I heard it. Was Mingi crazy? I scoffed, laughing maniacally.

Who was he? This can't be right. My insides quivered, no way it was this easy, surely there was a catch in between? He was cunning, what if him giving me the car was a part of his stupid games? I wouldn't put it past him.

And so, I drove home with an underlying guilt and heartbreak.

Mingi filled my thoughts all day and all night for the past month.

He was like a barnacle that didn't want to unstick from me and truth be told, it was getting extremely tiring. No matter what I did, I always saw him. I haven't been on any subway or train stations at all.

The worst part was that I didn't exactly know what this feeling was. At first, I thought it was fear - I was scared that he would come knocking on my door one day and claim me against my will, but no, nothing had happened.

I had so many questions left unanswered, questions that were giving me nothing but grievances, and in hindsight, a part of me wanted to see him again.

"Are you going to go have drinks with everyone tonight, Y/N?"

I paused from walking to turn around and found my co-worker, Wooyoung, at the restaurant where we both worked.

"I'm not too sure, Woo, I'm not really feeling well as of lately," I told him truthfully. This is Mingi's fault.

Wooyoung gives me a worried glance. "Everything okay, Y/N? Are you feeling sick?" he asked with a frown.

I gave him a halfhearted grin. He was always very sweet and I loved that about him. "Don't worry Woo, I'm just going to go home and rest," I twirled my car keys between my fingers and Wooyoung eyes it.

His eyes comically widen. "Wow, Y/N, you drive a car like that?" he says excitedly. "You always rode the bus though..."

I raised a brow. Has he always been this observant? Before I can question it, he snaps his fingers happily. "Can I see it? My brothers don't want me to drive," he pouted.

"Sure," I laughed and I guided him in the parking lot. "I overheard you talking to the others and mentioning that you had seven brothers?"

Wooyoung laughed. "Ah, that. We're not blood related, but we've been together all our lives. Blood isn't always thicker than water..."

We continued talking until I pointed the car to him. I started to go towards it, but I halted when I heard Wooyoung's sharp intake of breath. His eyes were wide as he stared at the black Bugatti, and I was amused.

"Where did you get this?" he inquired, his tone firm, his eyes piercing.

I was taken aback with Wooyoung's shift of attitude. He walked confidently towards the car, lightly trailing his fingers on the hood. Long gone was the cheery boy I knew him for.

"It's you," I heard him whisper.

My heart palpitated faster and faster when he walked towards me. "Stay here," was all he said when he walked away and called somebody.

I was so damn confused, what the hell was going on? Did Wooyoung know me outside of work? Oh God, I hope he didn't think I stole the car! I mean I get it, I earn shit in the restaurant as a server so I'd understand why he would think that.

Against my better judgment, I ran away from the parking lot into nowhere in particular. There was something dark looming over him in that odd conversation and I didn't want to be part of whatever that was.

As I was running hastily, I dropped the car keys. Cursing under my breath, I went back and tried to find where it dropped. I frowned when I realized where I was - in an isolated dark alley.

"Aha!" I exclaimed when I saw the keys and bent down to pick it up, but a foot stepped on it before I did.

I looked up to see three hooligans - tattoos, dank breath, yellowed eyes, you name it - grinning maliciously at me. I paled and it rendered me paralyzed.

"Well boys, looks like we got a jackpot right over here," the biggest man with the ugliest looking face grinned disgustingly. "You're the owner of that black baby in that parking lot!"

They all laughed rambunctiously to themselves. I was frightened, but I wanted to kick myself. Of course, the expensive car would've caught someone's eye sooner or later, but I didn't think it would be like this.

"P-Please," I whimpered, tears springing up my eyes. "I-I'll give it to you, you can have it, just don't hurt me..."

I gasped sharply when a skinny looking man grabbed me by my face and ogled. "You're hot," he leered. I almost threw up but I held it in. "Wanna play with us, doll? We'll give you a good time!

Tears started falling from my eyes. Mingi called me his doll, and it sounded heavenly from his lips. When they said it, I felt extremely insulted and violated.

"No, no, please!" I screamed when one of them held my arms and restrained me. "Stop!"

"Hold still!"

"No!" I bellowed. "I didn't get to where I am just to be manhandled by fuc---"

I choked, a stinging sensation on my right crippling me, the backhanded slap on my face was stronger than I thought and I hit the pavement below me. Was this the end? I groaned painfully when I felt myself being dragged on the ground.

My tears were free falling as I felt hands grope me in places I didn't want them to, but I couldn't do anything, black spots danced on my vision, but I still yelled, hoping someone would hear me.

"Stop it, please, take the car!" I shrieked, thrashing around, but that earned me another slap on the face.

"Damn, bitch, don't you ever shut up?" They laughed disgustingly. I cried out when I felt hands trying to lift my shirt up. "We're going to have so much fun---"

"What's going on here?"

The three hobos paused from their tracks, and froze when they saw the owner of the voice. I was in a haze, I probably had a concussion at this point. I could only hope that the new voice was here to help me...

I lay helplessly on the dirty ground and even though that felt terrible, at least I didn't feel their hands on me anymore, but I could still hear their conversation very well.

"B-Boss, greetings to you and your brothers," I heard them say as they bowed 90 degrees from where they stood.

In the distance, I saw three men standing straight, arms crossed in their chests except the one at the very front. I shrinked onto myself. They were the mafia.

They were Ateez, the 'A' symbol they wear on their suits was a dead giveaway. I panicked when I put two and two together. Were they going to hurt me too?

"Why are you imbeciles disturbing the peace?" a built man with the fiercest eyes I have ever seen sighed. He had this interesting reddish, pinkish hair.

"Wait," the other man with the deeper voice said. This one was handsome, his greenish, blackish hair suited him well. "You fuckers can't get it up so you terrorize a woman?"

"B-But, we know her," the three hoodlums lied. "We swear!"

A sudden panic attack tightens my chest and my breathing turns shallow. I'm so scared, and I am in pain right now. I groaned and everybody turned to look at me, but my haze couldn't make out faces clearly, especially their expressions.

Green haired man smirked. "Yeah?" he pointed at me. "Doesn't seem like it."

"I should kill you sons of bitches here," the pink haired one snarled, grabbing the gun he had and pointing it straight.

"Please, brother, spare us!" they shouted over and over again. I panicked, whimpering my ears to soothe the oncoming migraine I felt. I panicked even more when I realized I had blood, probably from my fall.

"Shut the fuck up---"

"San."

My eyes fluttered open as the world around slowly started to fade. That voice...

"Put the gun down," the third and last person spoke - the presumed boss. His voice was deep, calming, yet it induced fear in me.

"Why?" pink hair, San, growled.

"I won't tell you twice."

I tried, I really did, my best to glance at the tall man with the most lulling voice, at least to my ears. He was familiar, I just know that he was, it was breaking my heart trying to remember somebody who I couldn't at the moment.

I knew one thing - he was painfully beautiful, and the way he looked at me, it was like I was the brightest star in the universe, only this time, he can reach me and not just stare at me from afar.

He stepped forward, his strides powerful and domineering, and his eyes never leaving mine. There was something about him that felt different; he was dominant, compelling, and more dangerous than the other two.

"Step aside, maggots," he stated calmly, but so commanding.

"Boss, n-no offense," one brute interrupted, the one that slapped me to the pavement. "W-We really like t-this one, if you may--"

"Move."

"B-But---"

I saw the head mobster glance to his right. "Yeosang."

Green hair, Yeosang, nodded once and proceeded to roughly shove the thugs, apparently also mafia henchmen, to the side, giving them little punches and kicks here and there.

My head lolls and the muscles on my neck barely keep up with me. I can feel myself slowly slipping away. A shadow covers my view. He was so intimidating. He reaches his hand out, and I cower in response.

"No," I groggily shoved the head mafia's hand away from me. "Don't hurt me..."

He sighed, crouching down and sitting me down despite my protests. "Little dove, you know I would never," he whispered.

My heart started beating out of control as I stared at him closer. He was wearing this bluish suit along with a white dress shirt. Through my blurry vision, I can tell that he was the most attractive man I have ever seen in my life. I don't think anyone would come close...

I frowned. That train of thought. This wasn't the first time...

"Boss, my liege," I heard the ruffians speak. "Why are you forsaking us, your brothers, for some whore?"

I whimpered when I saw him take his sunglasses of, his eyes twitching, a glare of emotional coldness and complete disregard of anyone. It was terrifying.

"You dare call your queen a whore?"

That voice, that deep timbre, it brought a sense of relief to me. "Mingi?" I inhaled, shaking when it hit me.

His facade drops a bit, his eyes shining in relief, before it turns stone hard again.

The world seemed to stop for a moment, and the world never stopped for somebody like me. I was too far gone to acknowledge the sharp gasps.

I felt myself being carried and I automatically leaned into his hard chest. I was supposed to be terrified, frightened, but I was not. Everything seemed right at the moment and even if my head didn't know, my heart did.

I've felt this way before. I've been carried like this before. I've been in his safe embrace, wrapped in his heady scent.

I felt him plant a small kiss on my forehead as he carried me out of the alleyway. "You're safe now," Mingi whispered. "Let's go home, okay?"

I resisted, not wanting to go out just yet, but the tiredness and dizziness was catching up to me. As Mingi was about to completely walk out and go inside a car when we were stopped.

"Min, what do you want to do with them?" San asked. He then turned to me and bowed a bit. "Greetings, our queen."

I frowned, but that quickly turned into aghast when I watched Mingi hand Yeosang a handgun. "Beat the fuck out of them, Sannie, yeah?" he smirked sadistically.

He turned to Yeosang next with a smirk. "Then use that," he beamed darkly. "And use it well. Do not let me down, Yeo."

San and Yeosang look at each other, their eyes glazed with ruthless vigor. "With pleasure," Yeosang smirked.

I kept going in and out of consciousness every twenty minutes or so. I was in the backseat of a car.

And Mingi wasn't helping either. When I would try to shrug him off to just lay on my side to relax, he would possessively grab onto my waist and pull me to him.

"Stop it," I whined. "Thank you for saving me, but that doesn't give you the pass to touch me."

He hummed, not even bothering to respond. I wasn't in the mood for his bullshit today, so I shrug him off harder.

"Enough," he warned, a slight edge to his voice. "A month ago, you couldn't do it even if you tried." I hissed when he grasped my waist tighter. "It's like you never learned your lesson."

I blushed at the memory despite the haze. "Where are you taking me?" I cleared my throat pathetically. "My apartment is close to here."

Mingi stared at me before chuckling slowly. "Oh, you sweet, summer child..."

I shivered both in anticipation and fright. I can't be sarcastic with him like I did the last time I was with him. Song Mingi wasn't a regular person, I know that now. I have a sneaking suspicion who he was exactly, but the matter at hand wasn't that.

"Mingi, please, not now," I pleaded when he leaned towards me, stopping only a few inches from mine.

"You have forgotten what I told you before we parted ways," he murmured with a small smirk on his lips. "Surely, you didn't forget me that quick?"

"How could I forget you?" I glared. "You are the most insufferable person I have ever met."

He smirked. "How could you forget?" I held my breath when he whispered softly. "When your cunt took my fingers so well?"

I inhaled a sharp breath when he gave my lips a small peck. "You're mine now," he whispered. "Don't you ever forget that."

I was about to retort something stupid, but I couldn't when I groaned in pain, clutching my head when a sudden headache stopped me.

"You're bleeding, my sweet pea," Mingi frowned, his fingers lightly touching the dried, caked blood on my forehead. He tutted. "That fuckface. Come here."

My cheeks reddened when Mingi lifted me and placed me on his lap. I instinctively wrapped my arms around him for support. "Jongho," he called, his deep, commanding voice booming all over the car with authority.

"Here," I heard a voice towards the front. I groaned when we hit a road bump.

"Careful, Jjong. Easy on the road," I heard Mingi sigh while he was rubbing my back in a slow manner. It was honestly soothing.

"Sorry," the driver, at least I assume him to be, apologized. "I've been driving for a while now, where to?"

There was a slight pause. "Doll?" Mingi whispered directly in my ear. "You're going to have to stay awake for us, okay?"

I buried my head on the crook of his neck, breathing in his comforting scent. "My head hurts," I whimpered. "They hurt me really bad..."

"Shh, I know, I know. Can you sleep?" he tenderly asked, his arms wrapping around me tighter. I nodded in response.

"That's a good girl," he said. "Yunho's, then. Think you can reach there in thirty, Jjong?"

"Of course," Jongho snorted. "But only if I get to stay and not clean up after Yeo and Sannie. They're brutes."

"Look at you telling me what to do," Mingi raised a brow when Jongho gave him a sheepish smile. "Fine. Wooyoung will do it."

""But I'm worried about her," Jongho glanced at me through the rear mirror. "She might get nauseous."

"I'm fine," I snapped, burying my head deeper into Mingi's neck. "Just fucking drive before my head splits in two. I'll apologize to you later."

I felt bad for cursing at him, given that this was the first time I've ever seen him. My first impression was the least of my concerns.

Both of them laughed for a couple of seconds. "I see you picked the right one," I heard Jongho chuckling at Mingi, his eyes glinting in amusement, but there was that same darkness that he held. "Hang tight, our queen."

Everything was such a blur afterwards, all I knew was that I wanted to rest and forget about everything. The moment my head hit the pillow, it was game over.

When I woke up, I found myself with the most agonizing headache. I clutched onto my head, it certainly felt like my skull was trying to get out of my head.

It took me a while to realize that I wasn't in my own room, rather, I was in the most luxurious room with the plushest king-sized bed, wrapped in the most velvety blanket and surrounded by the softest pillows.

Everything hit me at once - my overnight shift, almost being forced against my will, to being in Mingi's car. I was mad at myself for being so damn weak that I can't even fight back when the need arose. If Mingi and his group didn't come in time, I just know I'd be dead by now.

Or worse, sold off. That was absolutely worse than being dead.

"You're awake."

I looked around to find the source of the voice and there he was. At the foot of the bed, a tall man stood. He was taller than Mingi, and Mingi was damn tall, himself.

"Who are you?" I asked with a frown.

"The owner of this house," he beamed. "My name is Yunho, our queen. Jeong Yunho."

He rolled a cart with antiseptics and more medical stuff out to the side. "You're a doctor," I declared, touching my forehead to find it all cleaned and healed up.

He nodded. "Luckily you didn't need any stitches, just a couple of bandages. Mingi can help you replace them later."

My heart skipped a beat at the name. "Speaking of," I cleared my throat. "Where is he?"

He smiled widely at me. He seemed nice, definitely reminding me of a puppy. "Doing some...stuff."

"I know what he does," I said. "Of what you guys do, more or less."

"I'm sure you do," he chuckled. "Mingi is not a subtle person."

He crossed his arms as he walked closer to my side of the bed. "You're very interesting," he remarked with a smile. "I can see why he's drawn to you."

"What do you mean, Yunho?"

"Well, for one, you didn't freak out when you saw me. The usual response to a random stranger in your bedroom is not nonchalance."

I squinted my eyes at him. I shouldn't conclude my thoughts about these people from looks alone; no one is who they seem to be here.

"You're observant," I commented.

"Yes. He can observe his way out of this room, as well."

Yunho laughed and I scoffed loudly when we both turned around and saw Mingi leaning on the door with his arms crossed.

"No thank you, Mangi?" Yunho approached Mingi with his arms wide open.

"Get out," Mingi ordered.

"Oh, come on now, I just wanted to check up on our queen," Yunho teased.

"Get out," Mingi repeated, raising his voice a little.

"But I want to know how you guys met--"

"Get," Mngi gritted his teeth. "Out."

"Okay, okay, goddamn," Yunho raised his hands out in response and beelined the hell out of the room, but not before waving at me jokingly and laughing on the way out.

The atmosphere was so awkward, it filled the massive room with uncertainty. I couldn't even look Mingi in the eye, for fear of him doing something to me. I was at the mercy of his presence, and in his property. He can do whatever he wants and none would be the wiser.

"I must say, Y/N," he began to speak, making me jump a bit in surprise. "Had I known that the next time I'd you see was being cornered by dead motherfuckers, I would have never let you go that night."

"Dead?" I squeaked.

Mingi smirked, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. "They will be soon."

He was at the very end of the room, but he was so unnerving. But by God, Mingi was the devil wrapped in an angel's grace. I didn't even recognize him at first.

He was wearing this tight, long-sleeved muscle fit shirt that emphasized just how bigger Mingi actually was. He had no glasses on, allowing me to see through his sharp and calculating eyes, and his dark hair was completely down, his bangs covered his entire forehead.

It was such a contrast to the very first time I saw him, and to be completely honest, I wasn't sure which one was worse - him wearing a casual outfit with the same dangerous, murderous aura was deceiving.

"You," I gulped. "You are the devil."

He titled his head in a menacing angle. "How so?"

"You know exactly what I mean, you took me here without even asking for my consent, Mingi!"

He stayed silent, staring at me with the same indifference he always had. It irritated me, more so now I knew who he really was.

"You lead the mob, you own the people," I whispered, hugging a pillow for comfort. "God, it all makes sense. The conniving, manipulative, boorish attitude, the fear you instill on everyone who knew you, and how you found me point blank."

"I didn't," Mingi denied. "Wooyoung found you. He called me. He is a brother of mine."

"You lied to me," I growled. "You lied about everything, you bastard-- don't come any closer."

Mingi began walking towards me, but paused in the middle of the room when I told him to stop. "I asked if you were in the mob," I continued. "You said no. But not only that, hid the fact that you had power. All you ever did was lie."

Mingi narrowed his eyes on me, rage slowly building into them, then it was gone. His self-control had always been worth of applause. "I never lied to you," he said in annoyance. "Everything I told you has been the damn truth from the start, Y/N."

"I own the gang, Y/N. I am the mafia, so no, I am not the mob," Mingi hissed. "I gave you every opportunity to wiggle your way out, I never gave you opportunities--"

"Opportunities that you tailored to suit whatever you wanted?!" I interjected, my voice raising significantly. "As if I had any choice? You assaulted me, Mingi, you took advantage of any weakness I had and exploited it for your gain!"

He smirked, his true colours overtaking the gentleness he put on. "But I do, I do care for you," he remarked. "Your perceptiveness kills me, though. It's not my fault we crossed paths again."

"You were going to give me to the enemy when we were hiding at the station," I accused harshly. "Crossing paths wasn't the issue, you had no problem selling me out!"

"I wasn't going to," Mingi shook his head.

"You wanted to touch me, you were going to push me off to them--"

"Hongjoong and Seonghwa, you mean?"

Mingi sighed, rubbing his temples with both of his hands. "Okay, fine, I might have lied to you with that one," he shrugged. "Joong is my best hunter, and Hwa is my right hand man."

Dread filled my body. Every opportunity that he gave me, even if he had pushed me to Hongjoong and Seonghwa, I would have never been in trouble. I would have ended up with Mingi, regardless.

"You snake," I seethed. "You manipulated me!"

"Remember," Mingi grinned sadistically. "I gave you the option to get away. Hongjoong would have let you go, he's always been soft, you see," he scoffed. "You chose to stay with me."

With that, tears fell from my eyes. Mingi's eyes softened at the sobs that wracked my body. He never lied, everything matched up, but his manipulations knew no bounds. Had I not been blinded by the temporary lust that made my body shake, I would have read between the lines.

"Seonghwa said he was going to kill you, how could I have known?" I hiccuped in between the sobs and tears.

I saw him reach out his hand to me, wanting to touch me, but hesitated when he saw how pitiful I looked. "Please don't cry, little dove," he whispered. "Will you calm down if I explain everything from the start?"

I looked up at him with my tear-stained eyes, nodding apprehensively. "Listen to me, my Y/N," he began. "I never lied to you, and I'm not lying when I say it hurts me to see you cry.

He walked towards the end of the bed and sat on it, far from me. "I was there for a deal with another mob, they screwed me over, so I stole their cash," he explained like it was no big deal. "The rope and the knife was theirs. It was for me."

I winced, the memory of Mingi tying me up making me cringe. "I'll spare you the details. I had to secure the place, why do you think the whole station was empty?"

I stared at him, and he stared back. That look again, I can't stand it. He was looking at me like I was the brightest star in the universe, but this time, I was slipping further and further away from him.

"I am a very thorough person, my pretty girl," he smiled at my blush. "I could have sworn I blocked off every single entrance in there. So tell me, how the hell did you get in?"

My blush deepens, and I lower my head in embarrassment. "I-I saw there was a barricade," I stammered. "I, uhm, jumped over it. I was too tired to go the long way."

Mingi laughed, his deep voice reaching me in places I didn't know existed. "I see," he smirked.

How could I be so stupid? The deserted area should have been a massive sign that something was very wrong.

"The train that came after a little," he continued. "That was my getaway ride. Those two were probably pissed when I wasn't on it, especially Seonghwa."

I was mortified all of a sudden. I groaned and Mingi turned to look at me in amusement. Hongjoong and Seonghwa probably heard us going at it and doing vulgar things in a place where we weren't supposed to be doing it.

"I didn't lie when I said I owed them money," he said, his tone soft and gentle. It was like we were in that train station all over again. It was moments like these when my heart would question itself and its validity.

"Yeah, you just conveniently forgot to mention that it was technically your money too," I mumbled in resentment.

"I got a little carried away with you and forgot to give it to them," he shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know how, you drive me crazy."

"That doesn't give you the excuse to shackle me with you and manipulate me to do your bidding," I glared fiercely at him, my voice breaking with every emotion I had.

"I know, my love, I know," he sighed deeply, shifting uncomfortably on the bed and turning his whole body to face me.

I wasn't going to tell him that I never stopped thinking about him even after he left, and I wasn't going to tell him that he had won - even if I didn't want to, I felt something for him. But I was mad, and he doesn't deserve me.

There wasn't a day where I never blamed myself for feeling the way I did. I really was no different than a whore.

"I didn't think I'd see you again after that night," he admitted.

I was puzzled and confused. "What do you mean?" I frowned. "I was in fear of you, Mingi. Everyday I was paranoid that you changed your mind and would come knocking at my door to take me."

He chuckled lightly. "No, dollface. I didn't even know where you lived."

I stared at him apprehensively. "There was no tracking in the car?" The doubt was clear on my face. "Don't you mafia people do that? GPs everything that moved?"

"You would be correct, but no," he shook his head. "Not that one. That was my personal car. Not the mob boss' car, just regular Song Mingi. It's not connected to the business."

"You're lying," I objected, my chest tightening with how my heart beated.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Mingi sighed. "Call me whatever you want, a bastard, a son of a bitch, the devil incarnate. I may con my way and twist the truth, but Y/N, you should know by now that I am not a liar."

I swallowed the lump that blocked my throat from breathing in and out. "Not to you," Mingi confessed. "I care very deeply about you."

I couldn't help the shock that resonated onto my face and expression. "You really intended to give me that car?" I croaked.

He nodded without hesitation. "Yes, love. Yes, I did."

Something in my chest exploded, all the emotions and how I felt threatening to bubble up within me. "I hate you," I whispered.

Mingi heard it though. "What?" he frowned.

I was very angry at this point. "Is this part of your games again, Song Mingi?" I spat, tossing the blankets away from my body.

"My love, please calm down," he pleaded.

"No!" I screeched, standing up and inching away from him and the bed. "I don't need your stupid car after you took advantage of me, you slimy little snake."

I began pulling my hair out in frustration. "You could have let me go," I cried out. "But instead, you didn't and you toyed with me and my body!"

"Y/N, stop it," he warned, standing up, himself, and trying to reach for me, but all it did was make me back away more.

"You think the car would absolve everything?" I seethed, making my way to the door, intending to leave. "You could have approached me like a normal person, I might have given you a chance to woo me--"

I grabbed my arms and spun me around swiftly. "Mingi, let go--"

"You don't understand," Mingi hissed, his eyes had the mafia leader's anger in them, scaring me a little. "You don't get it all, Y/N."

"Mingi, please--"

"I had every intention of letting you go that night," he snarled. "When I said I never thought I'd see you again, I meant it. I was really letting you go."

"You asshole, I hate you!" I screamed in defiance.

Mingi scoffed. "Really?" he squinted his eyes at me and pulled me into him, embracing me. It effectively halted me, I wasn't expecting it.

"That car was yours," he whispered. "If you really detested me, you could have sold it and gotten rid of every trace of me."

"And have you kill me for doing so? I think not."

"I wouldn't have known. If it had GPS, I would have tracked it somewhere else."

I cursed under my breath. There was no fooling him. "I wish you sold it," he said. "You could have lived comfortably and I would have rested easy knowing you had enough money so you wouldn't work at night anymore."

I shivered when he tucked my hair behind my ears. "What if someone else got you first? What if they had worse intentions?"

"I want you," he continued when I didn't reply. "I wanted you for myself, to take you and do whatever I damn well pleased."

He tilted my chin gently, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "I wanted to fuck you that night. Hard. Fast. Rough."

That caught me off guard. My face heated up in response.

"But I couldn't," he sighed before I could fully internalize what he said. "I didn't want this life for you. There was too much danger around me..."

He touched my forehead before leaning in and giving the bandaged wound a peck. "I should have come sooner before they did this to you."

I realized that passion was often mistaken for aggression. Mingi had too much of both. "You didn't send Wooyoung to spy on me?" I asked.

Mingi shook his head. "Wooyoung working with you was a sheer coincidence."

"It's not too late, you can still let me go," I tried to convince him. "You can let me go, once and for all."

He shook his head, his hold on me tightening. "No," he flatly said. Desperation swam in his eyes. "I let you go once, and that month was my worst. You're mine now, you hear me?"

The way he looked at me, I was the brightest star in his universe, and he finally had caught up to me. Then Mingi let me go, his eyes darkening into something foreboding; something more sinister.

"Strip."

It took a moment for me to understand what he said, and when I did, my eyes widened. "W-What?"

His eyes never left mine. "You heard me," he said. "Take your clothes off."

I took a step back from him and Mingi's jaw hardened when he saw me. "What are you doing?" he clenched his teeth, his voice taut.

"Mingi, please," I pleaded.

"Please what?" he growled. "Take your fucking clothes off, Y/N. I'm going to fuck you."

My chest fell up and down with how rough my breathing became. Mingi's scowl deepened when he saw me not moving an inch. He proceeded to take his shirt off and throw it randomly somewhere.

I gulped, taking in his physique. I knew he was toned, but seeing him up close made my brain go haywire with want. My brows shot up as I stared at the tattoo I didn't know he had on his left chest. It was an 'A' in a circle - an anarchy symbol, or rather, the Ateez emblem.

"Are you going to hurt me?" I whimpered.

His eyes narrowed in irritation. "No. Come here," he ordered. He had a demanding presence. The suffocating domination he had on me was daunting, but I wasn't going to give in to him.

I stood frozen in my spot for a few more seconds before I backed up again. Mingi slowly crept up to me, he looked like a predator more than ever. I backed up even faster until my back hit the wall. Panic surged through me when Mingi reached me.

He put his arms on either side of the wall, trapping me in. "Where are you going to go?" he sneered.

Before I could respond, Mingi ripped my nightgown off swiftly in the middle and lifted me easily in his arms, tossing me effortlessly on the bed. I screamed for dear life as he hovered over me.

"Song Mingi! What the fuck are you doing to her?!” I heard someone scream from outside the room.

"Fuck off!" Mingi roared angrily.

I trembled beneath him. He looked so much bigger than me when he was on top of me like this. I covered my bare breasts with my arms, but Mingi wasn't having it.

His eyes roamed hungrily over me. "No, babydoll," he smirked, grabbing my hands roughly and pinning them down on the bed. "You do not cover your tits around me, got it?"

I nodded as he devoured me with his eyes. I gasped when he leaned down and began sucking them. The stimulation was overwhelming - he would alternate between sucking and nipping my nipples gently.

"Mingi, please wait," I whimpered pathetically when he let go of one of my hands to fondle my tits.

I shook my head frantically and a choked cry was torn from my when his other hand wrapped around my neck. He lifted his head up to glare at me.

"Stay still," he barked.

I felt his tongue lick my lips, trying to push them apart. I whined in reluctance, trying to turn my head away, but Mingi quickly let my neck go to the back of my head and tugged my hair roughly on his hands. I cried out and struggled when he bit my bottom lip.

I inhaled a deep breath sharply when he pulled away to stare at me as I shuddered. I tensed when he started leaning down again slowly. He let go of my hair to press a thumb on my jaw, smirking darkly as he forced my mouth open.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured. "Naked, shaking like a leaf, and all mine."

He ravaged my mouth once more, tugging on my hair a little bit. When I refused to cooperate, he murmured another warning against my mouth, this time with more threat. His tongue played with mine, and he groaned against me, and plunged his tongue deeper.

I felt my body trembling more, the wetness down there was becoming impossible to ignore at his touch, and I was aching for relief at this point.

Tears fell from my eyes at the roughness and tenderness he was making me feel, and I felt nothing but confusion. He wiped my tears away with his fingers.

"Don't cry," he whispered.

"C-Can we do this next time?" I begged.

His penetrating glare left me fumbling for words, and yet submissive to his touch, unsure if I should hate him for doing this, or liking it because it was him.

I knew one thing, I felt undeniably safe with him.

"Darling, please, I'm not going to hurt you," Mingi pleaded when I began thrashing around, trying to get away from his criminal hold, by pushing his body towards me. "You want this just much as I do--"

"Fuck you," I spat on his face. Shock filled his face as he wiped the spit absentmindedly.

His eyes widened before mania and fury fueled his features. "Don't worry, I plan to."

I was expecting something rough and unrestrained, but no, Mingi kissed me softly, lovingly, and I couldn't help but kiss him back with equal emotions. His hands went everywhere - my hair, neck, stomach - until it reached its goal down there.

Panic surged through me and I tried to struggle, but he held my legs down with his and trapped me with his chest.

"Mingi," I wailed.

"Shut up," he hissed, ignoring my pleas.

Something about the way he said it made me extremely wet. It was such a dark arousal, too. Mingi groaned loudly, his fingers felt my damp pussy, rubbing and pressing on it. I bit my lips to stop the moans that were wanting to spill out of me.

"Baby," Mingi rumbled, pulling my bottom lip out of my mouth. "Do not, and I mean, do not hold back on me, yeah? I want to hear your pretty sounds..."

It's not like he gave me a choice, I let out a breathy moan when he slipped a finger in, pushing in deeper until he was knuckles deep. I unconsciously squeezed around his finger and that made him even crazier.

"Oh sweetheart," he choked out. "You are incredibly tight, my angel."

He started stroking in and out, sliding with ease and finger fucked me faster and rougher than he did when he were at the train station. I moaned when he curled his fingers up and started rubbing that sweet spot.

"M-Mingi," I moaned erotically. "P-Please, slow down for m-me."

He kissed my neck, his lips nipping at the soft flesh there. "How?" he groaned against my skin. "Do you not hear that?"

The loud, squelching sound from my wet pussy as he drilled his finger relentlessly in me was driving me crazy. I gasped when his pace got faster, his palms were hitting my clit aggressively and I felt my orgasm slowly approaching me.

"No," Mingi growled. I whined in protest when he pulled out. He grabbed my jaws roughly. "You won't come, not until I say so," he snarled.

He stood and quickly got rid of his pants, his hands shaking with anticipation as removed the last piece of clothing he had - his boxers.

I stopped and watched him stroking his already hard cock, and he looked directly at me, his eyes hazed with lust and madness, his strokes going slower when I swallowed. He wasn't the biggest I've been with, but he was the thickest.

The length of it was veiny, the head of it red with the need to be inside me. I gulped when I realized that he was going to be inside me.

"Look how hard you make me, precious," his eyes were lethal and ferocious. "I'm sorry, but I can't take it anymore."

Before I could say anything, a startled cry left my lips when he mounted me, roughly pushing my thighs apart to let himself in for the invasion he was going to do.

"Mingi--oh!" I whined when he shoved his fingers back in my pussy and stroked in and out like the madman he was. I struggled repeatedly, thrashing my legs and kicking him as hard as I possibly could.

"Resistance is useless, stop it!" Mingi shouted, making me stop in my acts and stare at him dumbfounded.

He tiredly buried his head on the crook of my neck. "I will give you anything and everything you want and more," he whispered in distress and desperation. "Just please give in to me, baby, please ."

The way he was begging broke something in me. "It doesn't work like that," I sighed.

"Then don't hate me," was all he said before he pushed into me in one thrust of his hips, almost tearing me into two.

I choked out a loud moan as my nails dug into his back. "M-Mingi," I gasped in broken moans.

He stayed still inside me for what seemed like a lifetime, shushing me and whispering the gentlest of words into my ears as he gave me little kisses here and there.

I knew he was corrupting me, but the feel of him inside me sent stars in my vision. It was the corruption, the alternation, between him being rough and then into being the most affectionate man.

Mingi withdrew all of a sudden, then thrust deeply, both of us letting out pleasure filled moans that echoed all over the room.

"I'm going to have you now, okay?" he said.

Without waiting for my reply, he thrust into me hard, over and over and over again. I felt my body being filled delightfully, the sensation of Mingi's cock seemingly swallowing all the words I intended to hurl at him.

His thrusts quickened, each thrust making me cry out loud and moaning louder and louder, not caring if anybody heard me from outside.

"Oh, fuck, my love," Mingi groaned, looking me directly in the eyes as he hovered over me. "You feel so fucking good."

He leaned down to kiss me roughly. "You're all mine, okay? You're fucking mine."

It was the moment when I knew that I couldn't hold back anymore. No matter how hard I tried to deny it, maybe I was his, after all. It was fucked up, but goddamn it, I wanted him.

"I'm all yours," I cried out. "Please, please fuck me--ngh!"

He groaned at my sudden surrender to him, reaching down with one hand to rub my clit as he fast as he was fucking into me. He locked his lips into mine in a demanding kiss.

"Your pussy feels so fucking good," his deep voice bought out a different type of pleasure in me. "Wrap your legs around me, my love."

I obeyed him without questions, moaning his name out loud when he reached even deeper than before. He buried his face in my neck as he fucked faster, harder, and deeper.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck..."

"You want me to go harder, baby?"

"Yes! "Well, you better start begging."

“Please, Mingi, please…”

His cock filled my pussy harder until I felt the tip touch the end of my walls. In a moment of complete bliss, I grabbed his face and locked eyes with him. The surprise in his eyes made him buck his hips roughly. "Is my angel a slut, after all?" he smirked.

My body shuddered against him, and I felt a pleasure that intensified with the degrading name - slut.

"I love you," he whispered abruptly.

The sincerity in his eyes made my chest tighten and explode. "Since when?" I croaked out.

"I don't know," he smiled through the pleasure he felt. "I just do."

It was a feeling I knew all too well, as I felt the same.

A surge of bravery passed through me, maybe it was all from the payback and I want to get even. "Prove it," I smirked.

"Oh, you're going to be the death of me," he growled.

I screamed his name over and over again as he fucked his desires into me, until a strangled groan from him made his thrusts more desperate and sloppier.

His moans were getting higher and higher in pitch until he was nothing more than a whining, moaning mess. It turned me on to the highest degree.

"Come with me, love, please," he begged. "I need it..."

It was all I needed to hear, and there was no turning back. He broke an orgasm out of me, stripping me of any plans to defy him ever again.

His groans of pleasure matched his slowing thrusts and with a final plunge forward, hot cum filled began filling me. The little kisses he planted all over my face while whispering the dirtiest things with the most affectionate tone gave me the shivers.

He laid on top of me tiredly, and I was expecting him to stay like that because we were both tired and spent, but no. "Mingi?" I asked in confusion.

I was confused, I whined when he pulled out, going down on me to stare at my swollen pussy. It was so embarrassing, him being so close and personal down there.

"W-What are you doing?" I moaned again when I felt his fingers push back his cum back inside me.

"Can't let all of this go to waste, yes?" he smirked before diving in.

I almost had another orgasm at the sight. I felt Mingi eat me out hurriedly, holding my legs so I don't shut them close. The slurping sounds were so obscene.

Suddenly, he stopped and got back on top of me with the cockiest smirk on his face. He leaned down, forcefully opened my mouth, then opened his.

"Mmph!" I groaned lewdly, wide-eyed, but suddenly wet all over again.

I felt something wet, sticky, go in my mouth when Mingi kissed me - cum. He had just sucked his own cum from my pussy, and spit it out in my mouth.

"That's a good girl," he smirked, wiping his mouth with his hands. "Take it all in for me..."

He leans back at me again and I expectedly open my mouth for him again. His cum dribbled slowly from his mouth to mine and we both groaned at the erotic sight. "Swallow," he said.

I savoured his taste and swallowed, just like he wanted to. He bit his lips at my lewdness. "You did not just do that," I was bewildered.

"And what if I did?" Mingi smirked.

We lay next to each other, not saying a word, and just taking in what transpired between the two of us. I lay on Mingi's chest, tracing the tattoo on his chest.

"What's it for?" I asked absentmindedly.

"That, my love, is a brand that we wear to prove our loyalty," he replied patiently, rubbing my arms up and down. "Hongjoong drew it, himself."

"Does everyone have them?"

"Yes," he hummed. "Yunho has his on his chest too, Wooyoung and San both have theirs on their thighs. Hongjoong on his right wrist, Seonghwa on the left, Jongho on his arm, Yeosang on his back."

"I see," I replied lazily, laying back on his chest and just staying there. It wasn't awkward at all, I just felt relaxed with Mingi like this.

"You didn't reply to me earlier," Mingi's deep voice accused.

"With what?" I frowned, not even bothering to open my eyes.

"I told you I love you, I meant what I said," he sighed. "It wasn't a spur of the moment thing."

"But Mingi, this is only the second time we've seen each other, how can you love me?" I whispered, my tongue burning because I knew I was bullshitting myself with that.

"Don't be a hypocrite, precious," he chuckled. I huffed and he laughed. "You forget I'm the Don, I can see right through you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I rolled my eyes playfully, turning away from him.

He grabbed me gently and gave me a quick kiss. I blushed when he kissed my nose. "Admit it," he pressed.

"Admit what?"

"That you're slowly falling in love with me," he grinned. "Just like I am with you, my queen."

I cursed under my breath. "Why do you keep calling me that?" I frowned, trying to divert the topic.

"I'll take that as a yes," he laughed. "You mean 'my queen'? So you get used to it since I want you by my side when I rule."

"Bold of you to assume I'll agree," I murmured.

"I mean, we already fucked each other's brains out, I'm just saying--"

"Mingi!"

We laughed out loud, and we laughed even harder when all we heard from outside the door were:

'Ha! Woo, you fucking owe me $50, I told you they'll make up!'

'Yeah, but the bet was if they make up before fucking, San!'

'I don't give a fuck. Hwa, you owe me too!'

'Me?! That was Yeosang!'

"Boss!"

I was startled when Mingi suddenly covered my whole naked body with the blanket protectively. Somebody just came through the door without knocking.

"Choi Jongho," Mingi seethed, shaking in anger. "It better be good or I swear I will shoot you on the spot."

"Ah," I heard our lovely driver fumble by the door. "Well, Hongjoong saw somebody steal the car in the garage."

Mingi sighed loudly. "Which one?"

"The white one."

"Well, did they break your legs first?"

"What?"

"I said," Mingi inhaled sharply. "Did they break your legs first?"

I stroked Mingi's thighs to calm him down. Though it turned me on to see him mad - sue me, he was hot - I liked Jongho and I don't want to see him dead yet.

"No," Jongho replied.

"So go and fucking chase it down, then!" Mingi howled. "Did you really have to go to me for that? Get the hell out of my room, out!"

"Hey, this is my house!" I heard Yunho shout from a distance.

"That I gave you!" Mingi screamed back.

I couldn't stop the laughter that erupted from my throat. I suppose it wouldn't be too bad trying to get along with everyone and see where this journey takes us. When Jongho shut the door, I peeked out from the blanket to find Mingi already staring at me.

"So," Mingi cleared his throat. "What now?"

I attempted to stifle a grin, but I failed. "Luckily for you, I like having power as well."

"Good," he beamed. I was in awe, where was the rugged and brusque man I met on the train station?

He bought out documents from the bedside table and began writing on it. "I just have to write your name in the official document so the enemy does not touch you," he explained when he saw me look at him curiously.

"They're eventually going to find out about you," he continued. "You have an English name, love?"

"Why?" I asked.

"For overseas," he shrugged. "Our operations extend out there, believe it or not."

I looked at him apprehensively. When Mingi saw me hesitate, he spoke up. "We'll take it one step at a time, okay?" he tenderly said. "I know this is a lot of change, but I promise you, nobody will hurt you. Hurting you will equate to hurting me as well. Any family I should know of?"

My heart swelled incredibly so. I was scared, terrified even, but I had a good feeling about him and everything that will come next.

"No," I smiled sadly. "I'm an orphan. And it's Rinoa."

He stopped in his tracks and looked up to meet my eyes. "You're very strong," he said with a small smile. "You have me and the boys now, no more worrying alone, okay? Put down your college information too, I'll pay for it from now on."

My eyes widened. "You don't have to," I whispered. "I've been managing on my own for years now."

"I know, love, but part of being mine is letting me take care of you. Let me take this burden off of your shoulders, okay?"

I wanted to tear up. I was confused, but felt very happy. "I hope you don't let me down," I whispered. " Or I'm going to beat you up," I grinned afterwards.

Mingi grinned back, kissing my hands tenderly. "I promise I'll give you everything and make you happy, and I'm sorry for all the stuff I put you through."

"No more lies?" I pointed out.

Mingi shook his head. "No more lies."

"So what's your English name too?"

Mingi chuckled. "I won't lie," he smirked. "But I never said I won't ask for some sort of payment."

I rolled my eyes and kissed him on the cheeks. His eyes widened in response. "That was fast," he laughed. "Look at you already wanting to know things about myself."

"Glad to know you're still the cocky man I met," I laughed. "Would've been weird if you just suddenly changed."

I looked at him expectantly with a cheeky smile. He laughed out loud before responding. "It's Stellan.”

"It suits you," I commented.

We stared at each other, just taking in the other person. Little by little, we'll get to each other, and it starts right here, and right now. "Come here," he began

He lifted me up to put me on his lap so I could straddle him and pulled me towards him until our lips danced in a game of truce.

I fell into his rhythm naturally as his arms wrapped around me and held me lovingly. I had found my lover with Mingi, and I had fallen in love with him.

#ateez #ateez smut #kpop smut #mingi smut #mingi x reader #ateez hard hours #song mingi #ateez one #ateez scenarios #mingi fluff #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez au #ateez fic #ateez x y/n #atz #atiny

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cozage · 1 year

Note

It's me again, feel free to ignore this if you're only taking 1 request per person

Congrats on 2k followers ♡

I would like to request, option 1, the reader asking "can I give you a kiss? If you don't like it, you can can return it" with Zoro, Sanji and Luffy (if you can also with Law, Ace and/or Kid)

Thank you in advance, hope you have a lovely day ♡

Nonsense! If you send it in and I like it, I'll write it! This was a fun request too :) I would've done them all if I had the time <3

Characters: gn reader x Zoro, Sanji, Luffy Total word count: 740

Returned Kisses

Zoro

“Zoro!” you sang, skipping across the deck. “I have a question.”

Zoro groaned. Your questions were never as simple as you initially made them out to be.

“Can I give you a kiss?” you asked, your cheeks turning a cute rose color. “If you don’t like it, I can return it!”

Zoro scowled at you, trying to decipher your strange slew of words. “How do you return a kiss?” he asked. He set down the weights he had been using, trying not to sound too interested.

“I guess you’ll just have to see!”

His eyes scanned the ship. There was nobody else around. And he had to admit, he was curious how your lips tasted.

“Make it quick, then.” He sighed, trying to act as if he were apathetic to the whole idea, but his pinkened cheeks did not go overlooked.

Your lips pressed against his, and he could taste a distinct sugary sweetness Normally he hated sweets, but he found it quite enjoyable upon your lips.

When you finally pulled away, he quickly wetted his own lips with his tongue, desperate to get another taste.

“I think I’ll return it,” he said, looking at you.

“Oh.” Your shoulders slumped in defeat. “Not very good then, was-?”

He pushed his lips back against yours with a sort of desperation and hunger that you weren’t expecting, and your mouth fell open in surprise against his. He quickly pushed his tongue past your lips, hungry for more of your sweetness.

When he finally pulled away, he shot you a cocky smirk. “Maybe you should try again later. I might not return it next time.”

Sanji

“Sanji!” You opened the swinging door to the kitchen, searching for him.

“Do you need something, my love?” he asked. “Whatever you want, I will gladly give you.”

“Great!” you smiled. “I was thinking I could give you something, though.”

“Me?” He looked around the room, trying to figure out what you meant.

“Yeah! I was thinking I could give you a kiss,” you offered. “If you didn’t like it-Sanji!”

The poor cook had collapsed to the ground, sent into shock by your offer. He seemed to be mumbling and babbling words, but you couldn’t make them out.

You knelt down next to him, pulling his head into your lap to make sure he was okay.

“Oh, Y/N love,” he whispered, finally coming back to his senses. “I had this strange dream where you offered to kiss me.”

You laughed. “I did offer to kiss you.”

His eyes were suddenly clear now, and very focused on your lips. So you bent down and pressed them against his own. You could hear his breathing become shallow, but you steeled your nerves and stayed there for a moment before you pulled away.

“If you don’t like it, you can return it,” you whispered.

Sanji’s eyes were practically hearts as he stared up at you. “Can I still return it even if I did like it?”

You giggled, crinkling your nose as you laughed. “I suppose so.”

“Good!” He reached up and pulled you back down to him, keeping his lips pressed into yours until Luffy ran into the kitchen looking for more food.

Luffy

“Luffy! Come here!” you called up to the captain. He was in his seat on the figurehead, like always.

“You come here!” he yelled back. Rubber arms extended towards you and whipped you up next to him. “What’s up?”

“Can I give you a kiss?” you asked. “You can return it if-”

His lips smashed against yours, and you could feel his mouth stretching into a smile. You couldn’t help but smile too, your head foggy with giddiness at his willingness to say yes.

He finally pulled away from you, his laugh filling the air around you. “That was nice.”

“I was supposed to give you a kiss, Luffy!” You were trying to scold him, but you couldnt wipe that stupid smile off your face.

“Do you want to give me one?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “You can give me another one!”

You leaned back into another kiss, his arms already wrapped around your neck. He was trying not to be too eager, but once your fingers tangled into his raven locks, he abandoned all common sense and worked to devour as much of you as he could get.

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calliesmemes · 7 months

Text

ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF

ASSORTED QUOTES FROM TUMBLR TEXTPOSTS, X (formerly known as twitter) POSTS, TIKTOK, MEMES, AND OTHER SOURCES AROUND THE INTERNET

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“ Currently considering becoming a bother and a nuisance, maybe even a menace or a rascal. ”

“ Hungry? Eat the government. ”

“ Yes, I wanna fuck after every argument. ”

“ Silence, you uneducated peanut! ”

“ They should invent a being alive that isn’t so difficult. ”

“ Women have to think I’m hot or none of this matters. ”

“ Due to personal reasons I will be named an enemy of the state. ”

“ Being overdressed is a myth made up by people who didn’t want you to have fun and be sexy. ”

“ What even are daddy issues? Just traumatize your father back. ”

“ I LOVE complaining! You can’t take that away from me! ”

“ I went to the silly goose convention and they all knew you. ”

“ I’m simultaneously ‘I’m tired of this grandpa’ and ‘that’s too damn bad!’ ”

“ The word ew coming out of a pretty girl’s mouth holds so much power … I think that it can tear apart nations. ”

“ Someone made fun of my shoes and the whole time I just thought of ways to push them out the window. ”

“ If you’re short, simply get taller. ”

“ I better think twice? Buddy I don’t even think once. ”

“ My off putting looks, awkward demeanor, and strange behavior have captivated you. ”

“ There’s something deeply, fundamentally wrong with you. Can we kiss? ”

“ You are a fool. When you walk, clown music plays. ”

“ I mean yeah he’s evil and all but what if I were his favorite? ”

“ I really do hate thinking. ”

“ In my defense, I simply do not vibe with the law. ”

“ I’ve done nothing wrong. Except all the atrocities. Besides that, I’m innocent. ”

“ Sorry I couldn’t hear you over my internal monologue. ”

“ Of course you have white hair and trauma. ”

“ So apparently the bad vibes I’ve been feeling are actually ‘severe psychological distress’. ”

“ Stop calling me a bad person just because I’m orchestrating your downfall! ”

“ The more lip gloss I collect the longer I live. ”

“ Sorry that I am obsessed with you in the unhealthiest way possible. As if it's my fault ”

“ The multiple failed assassination attempts against me have helped build both character and self esteem. ”

“ I could be your loser boyfriend. Do you ever think about that? ”

“ Accidentally went and got myself killed yesterday, but god wont let me die so I’m back ”

“ What do you mean napping isn't a good coping mechanism? What do you mean my problems are still here? ”

“ Academic validation is required for my sanity. ”

“ RIP to everyone killed by the gods for hubris but I’m different and better. Maybe even better than the gods. ”

“ Researching the stages of grief to see if I can get them finished in ten minutes tops. ”

“ My parents were like I’m gonna make a child that is so beyond help. ”

“ It’s not easy to admit when you’re wrong, and that’s why I won’t do it. ”

“ Why can’t this family ever have a funky good time? ”

“ How do I show people that I’m more than my unethical career choice? ”

“ I fucked my way into this mess, and I’ll fuck my way out. ”

“ You look so biteable today. ”

“ Why am I suffering? I have so many correct opinions and takes. ”

“ I AM HAUNTED BY A PAST THAT I CANNOT GO BACK TO! anyways ”

“ Challenging authority, angering gods. The family business. ”

“ Third base is me telling you about my father. ”

“ Hey girl. Plagued by terrifying visions? ”

“ Got caught giving a fuck. Embarrassing. ”

“ I didn’t ‘miss’ the red flags; I saw them and thought that they looked sexy. ”

“ Do my dark circles and deteriorating health make me look hot? ”

“ I get my news from the only reliable source, cryptic symbolism in my dreams. ”

“ Another day of being a bisexual disaster. ”

“ I’m going to let myself be a little unhinged today, as a treat. ”

“ Some of you act like murder is such a big deal. ”

“ You wanna hunt me for sport so bad that it makes you look stupid. ”

“ You’re not a girlboss unless you’ve killed someone. ”

“ It’s so weird how no one ever has correct opinions about things except for me. ”

“ Hello, my love — I mean, my rival ”

“ No one is calling me baby and it’s outrageous I can’t believe it. ”

“ No talking stage. Mutual obsession and you see god in my eyes or nothing. ”

“ I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOOKUP CULTURE DIE IN MY ARMS ”

“ Yes baby your emotional walls are high and impenetrable can we kiss now? ”

“ Affection is disgusting. Drown me in it. ”

“ I am gatekeeping my respect from you. ”

“ Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions. ”

“ I am equal parts fuck around and find out and please don’t yell at me I’ll cry. ”

“ Short legs, big butt. I’m a corgi. ”

“ Fuck being the bigger person; I’m going to start biting people. ”

“ Well that wasn’t very slay of you! ”

“ May I please get a crumb of affection? ”

“ I crave power! Please don’t yell, though; I’m sensitive. ”

“ You call it a near death experience; I call it a vibe check from God. ”

“ Here are some scissors. Now cut it out. ”

“ Might commit a little tomfoolery, maybe even some shenanigans. ”

“ All these flavors, and you choose to be salty. ”

“ How can I live, laugh, love in these conditions? ”

“ What if I said ‘to be honest’ but then lied? ”

“ I'm financially at a stage where I understand why people do fraud. ”

“ Yes I may be evil and morally corrupt, but I’m also incredibly beautiful and I think that makes up for it honestly. ”

“ Debates are stupid. Why would I want to sit down and argue with someone blatantly dumber than me? ”

“ I forget but I do NOT forgive.. I'm just walking around hating bitches can't remember why ”

“ Ding dong your opinion is wrong! ”

“ I’m coming for your kneecaps. ”

“ You dropped your nose you fucking clown. ”

“ Are you a fire alarm? ‘Cause you are really fucking loud and annoying. ”

“ Call me an escalator, because I let people down. ”

“ I love me a good lesbian scandal! ”

“ If you can’t run away from your problems, you’re not running fast enough. ”

“ Everything I want to do is illegal. ”

“ Don’t make me hit your ankle with my Barbie scooter! ”

“ I tell gay jokes because I am a gay joke. ”

“ Fuck! I dropped my mental stability! ”

#askbox meme #askbox prompt #rp ask meme #ask box #roleplay sentence meme #sentence starters #roleplay prompts #roleplay sentence starters #* sentence meme

2K notes · View notes

youarewhatyoulove-blog · 6 months

Text

the violence of the dog days.

pairing: jeongguk x reader

summary: In the midst of summertime, after a week of neglect, your boyfriend has a way of making you feel even more heated.

you're hot and horny for jeongguk.

rating: mature🔞 (minors please dni)

genre: non-idol au, college au, established relationship, smut, fluff, pwp

word count: 9.2k words of unadulterated smut.

warnings: reader and jeongguk are absolute horny simps for each other, but they're also so inlove, soft boyfriend jeongguk (because yes that is a warning), jeongguk is a law student (oof), overuse of the petname 'baby', reader hasn't been getting it seven days a week😔, switch jeongguk (kinda), hair pulling, hickeys, making out, thigh riding, nipple play (jeongguk is proudly a boob guy), religious imagery because jeongguk worships reader like a god, usage of the words 'c*nt' and 'p*ssy' (because i know some people are iffy about that), cunnilingus (f-receiving), jeongguk is low-key a sadist y'all (in his fantasies), a bit of dom/sub dynamics, prayers for reader because jeongguk's got that big d🙏🏽, unprotected sex, doggy style, degradation, a teeny weeny bit of overstimulation, creampie - like this is just pure smut guys 😬, possessive sex, choking, aftercare, reader kinda hints at having attachment issues (but don't we all).

author's note: 1. please ignore any typos :). of course, i'd appreciate any feedback or constructive criticism. but if you find yourself uncomfortable by any of the themes in this fic, there's no need for hate, just kindly move on. 2. also, this is a lot longer and softer than i intended. this fic was supposed to be purely hard smut, but i fell in love with the characters and their relationship, and some aspects of the story just turned out sickeningly sweet - so proceed with caution.

You're an hour into tossing and turning when you can't take it anymore.

The heat.

With June coming to a close end, the surviving remnants of summer creep in through your bedroom window with barely a whisper of a breeze. It clings to every part of your skin, that ever-lingering humidity thickening the air, and wraps itself around your body like a cloak. For some reason, you thought that scrolling aimlessly through the various apps on your phone would help distract your mind from the muggy weather or maybe, by some miracle, even lull you to sleep.

But it hasn’t—of course it hasn't. Because summer is here to stay, burrowing deep within your bones and making a home there. Each passing minute is a testament to that, insomnia creeping up your spine with ill intent and wriggling into every cranny of your mind until you feel like you're losing it.

Perhaps you are, you think.

Because when the desk fan a few feet away suddenly stops whirring and the fumbling grasp you had on sleep slips from your reach like a fleeting dream in the morning light as a result of it—drifting further and further away—you hit your breaking point. The lack of white noise and cool air blowing your way mounts your frustration into place. It hangs there in the ether like a looming shadow but, unlike your slumber, has no plans of deserting you.

With an annoyed huff, you drop your phone back onto the nightstand for the umpteenth time and kick your leg out from under the duvet.

“Fuck.” You sigh, rolling onto your back.

A thin sheen of sweat lingers on the surface of your skin, causing the sheets to stick uncomfortably to every part of your body. You spread your limbs out like a starfish in some futile attempt to cool them down, hoping that you'll catch a draft, but the action only reminds you of how largely cavernous your bed feels right now.

The space beside you is missing a particular doe-eyed boy and, as your hand brushes over the empty spot, you realize that it's not so much the seasonal heat that's making you feel weirdly restless, but rather Jeongguk's absence. In an inconveniently clingy way, you need his body settled next to you at night, your legs and arms a tangled mess beneath the blankets.

You don't know why that is. Why sleep eludes you like a compass without direction, unable to find its way to you when Jeongguk isn't near. But you don't mull over it or give the thought a foothold to stand amongst the endless anxieties already in your head.

All you know is that cuddling up with him in the evening is perhaps one of your favourite pastimes. Akin to a baby with it's bottle, falling asleep in his embrace is something you've grown incredibly used to, maybe even a little dependent on—like a security blanket or night-light—and there's nothing you can do about it.

Sneaking a glance towards the dim light spilling in from beneath the bedroom door, you picture Jeongguk on the other side. Chances are, he’s still where you last left him. Sitting cross-legged on the couch with a laptop balancing carefully on his lap, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, as he catches up on coursework.

You worry your lip, the thought of your boyfriend causing your mind to wander...

He looked so good tonight; adorned in a pair of grey sweats and a baggy t-shirt with his tattoos fully exposed. His dark hair was strewn across his forehead, falling into his eyes in a way that made your fingers itch.

You, on the other hand, are sporting an old, oversized shirt you opted to steal from Jeongguk's wardrobe to combat the high temperatures, but it hasn't helped much. The heat still loiters, creeping up the back of your neck and imbuing your cheeks with warmth.

It makes you long for winter, for the bitter nip of frosty ice and pelting rain, and the desire for that inadvertently reminds you of that fucking silver lip ring Jeongguk had gotten recently.

The memory of its cold, metal sting against your lips as he kissed you goodnight sends a distant, carnal hum coursing throughout your veins. It's probably tugged anxiously between his teeth right now whilst he types away, eyes deadset on the screen before him, and the image of that sends you reeling. Makes your skin flush further, yearning to feel its steel bite again.

For some reason, it propels you into motion, skin prickling as you throw your legs over the edge of the mattress without a second thought.

The last thing you want to do is bother his progress or interrupt his work, but selfishly, you persist. That gnawing feeling deep within your chest is too hard to ignore, heart beating voraciously with each step you take because it longs to be satiated by Jeongguk's presence. Your boyfriend is only one room over, just four thin walls separating the two of you, yet still—you miss him, want him.

Treading lightly, you hear the persistent click-clack of his keyboard and the muffled sound of typing only grows louder as you step out into the hallway. The wooden flooring is frigid beneath your feet, a sensation you immediately relish in as soon as the fiery crawl of discomfort across your skin begins to lessen. Your shirt—or more precisely, Jeongguk’s shirt—falls flat from your waist, landing a few inches above your knees, as you wander further into the apartment.

Just as you’d predicted, Jeongguk is all pretzelled up on the sofa, too focused on his work to hear you enter. A few empty bottles of soju and convenience store snacks litter the coffee table, serving as silent witnesses to the length of time he's been out here. He must have dimmed the lights as well because a faint, warm glow shrouds every facet of the room, making him look particularly soft at this hour.

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around the length of his shoulders as you bend over the couch's headrest to envelop him in a hug. ”Hey,” You hum softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Jeongguk startles slightly at the contact, shaken from his deep concentration as he angles his head to look up at you. “Shit, baby. You scared me.” He breathes, voice rough from disuse. It rumbles through you like a distant thunderstorm, body vibrating with electricity.

“Sorry,” You murmur, glancing at the assignment he's been working on and tiny pangs of guilt gradually trickle into your stomach. “I didn't mean to disturb you, but-”

“You're not disturbing me.” Jeongguk instantly reassures, scanning your face with a knowing look. “Can’t sleep?” He asks and you nod, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The scent of his body wash immediately encompasses you like a warm embrace, wild pinewood and bergamot invading your senses.

“I thought you’d be in bed by now.” You mumble against his skin, unable to hide the pout in your voice.

Jeongguk frowns, eyes flickering to the time at the bottom of his laptop screen.

Shit, he hadn’t even noticed how late it’s gotten, the hours skulking along the cusp of a new day. He should probably be turning in for the night, head to bed and worry about this project tomorrow, but he’d rather not postpone his responsibilities. Not when you’re staying over the weekend and he could be spending that time with you instead.

“I know.” Jeongguk responds, hand coming up to intertwine with yours. “I’ll be there soon, okay?” He promises, bringing your knuckles to his lips. The featherlight kiss he presses there soothes you like a curative balm.

“Okay,” You relent, untangling yourself from his body. “But, can I stay here for a bit? It’s too hot in there.” You half lie, gesturing towards the bedroom while simultaneously walking over to the kitchen only a few feet away.

“Yeah, of course.” He murmurs, eyes following your movements.

“Thanks, Kook.” You smile, sparing him a glance over your shoulder as your eyes sparkle with mirth. “By the way, your fan broke down again.”

“Again?” He laments, eyebrows furrowed together whilst he runs a disgruntled hand through his hair. “I seriously need to get that old thing repaired or maybe even replaced.” He grumbles to himself, before a guilty afterthought occurs at the sight of you. “Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby. No wonder you couldn't sleep.”

You don't tell him that it's not so much the heat keeping you awake but, more so, him.

“No, don't worry about it.” You settle on instead, trying to dispel his concerns. “It's not your fault.”

This isn't the first time that Jeongguk’s fan has given him problems. He's had the thing since high school; so it’s no surprise that the motor tends to give in every now and then, running a little too hot. He’s been meaning to get the issue sorted, but hasn’t really found the time to do that these days.

“Plus, I'd much rather be out here with you.” You add.

Jeongguk smiles at you so sweetly then, dimples making an appearance, and your body flushes all over, burning once again.

God, what is wrong with you tonight?

You need to calm down, cool down. At this rate, you feel like an overheating engine, bound to crash in on yourself and combust.

Grabbing a glass of ice water from the fridge dispenser, you rein yourself in, distracting your mind with conversation. “I promise not to be a bother though, like you won't even notice I'm here.” You say, before chugging the cold liquid down on the spot, completely ignorant to the way that Jeongguk drinks you in.

A welcome sight is what you are, so cute tonight with your hair all mussed, practically drowning in his shirt. “You’re never a bother.” He responds, mouth going dry when you lean back to empty the glass. The action causes your shirt to hike up, the creamy expanse of your thighs further exposed to his hungry eyes.

He feels his dick stir at the sight.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be?” You ask, wiping your lips with the back of your palm, as you place your cup in the sink and shuffle over towards your boyfriend.

“Uhh…” Jeongguk clears his throat, broken out of his stupor. He turns back to face his laptop, skimming the Word document that's open before him when he feels you nestle into his side a second later. Automatically, he brings a hand down to rest against your leg.

“I’m not sure,” He grumbles, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your bare thigh. The absent-minded touch ignites something in you, skin blazing at the contact, and you try your best to suppress the goosebumps that rise in Jeongguk’s wake. “Maybe another hour or so?” He guesses.

“Oh.” You mumble and, although you fight the disappointed curl of your lips, Jeongguk doesn’t miss the deflated look on your face.

“I’m sorry,” He squeezes your thigh apologetically, frown overtaking his pretty features. “I know it’s been a while since we spent time together.”

A week exactly, you note, but ultimately keep that detail to yourself. After all, neither one of you is to blame for being so busy, constantly caught between work and university.

You think that's maybe the reason you're feeling so needy tonight, body set ablaze by every minor look and touch from your boyfriend. In a way, you're feeling a little neglected since your relationship’s taken the backseat, not by choice but by consequence, and you don’t know how to deal with it.

“It's fine.” You shrug. "It's not like we can help it.”

You try to be nonchalant about the matter, injecting the slightest hint of indifference into your tone, but Jeongguk sees right through you.

He always does.

“Come here.” He says suddenly, voice soft as he shifts his laptop onto the coffee table.

You look up at him, confusion clear on your face.

“What?” You blink, but your question falls on deaf ears because Jeongguk merely uncrosses his legs and pats his lap.

“Come here,” He then repeats and reaches for your waist.

You're uncertain for the briefest of moments, eyeing Jeongguk suspiciously, before you ultimately give in like malleable clay in his soft hands, allowing him to pull you onto his lap with ease. “I've been working for hours.” He grumps once you're comfortably straddling his waist, hands resting on either side of your hips. “Hardly seen you since you got here.”

You hum, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. It's no secret that you've been spending a lot more time at Jeongguk's place in lieu of your ratty little dorm room. You felt bad about it at first, feeling as though you were invading his space and overstaying your welcome. But your boyfriend couldn't be happier about it. He rather likes the idea of your lives interlocking, melding together as if they were puzzle pieces falling into place. He likes that when he's working, like on nights like this, that you're just on the opposite side of the door, not one phone call or car ride away.

He likes that you're his and he is, equally as much, yours.

“I wanted to leave you to your work.” You explain, curling your arms around his neck. Your fingers absentmindedly play with the ends of his hair that have grown out and the light touch only brings about the memory of how much he has missed you these past few days.

“Well, it's about time I take a break, don't you think?” Jeongguk muses and you become hyper-aware of the way his fingers brush up your spine. “Give my girl some attention…” He trails on, eyes flickering to your lips.

You practically preen at the idea, smiling shyly as you lean into his touch. “I wouldn't object to that.” Your heart patters in your chest, beating wildly at the mere sight of Jeongguk. At the thought of him finally touching you, kissing you, quenching your thirst after this week-long drought. “I've missed you.”

Jeongguk chuckles faintly. “Me too, baby.” He murmurs, perching his head upwards to press his lips against yours.

The kiss is gentle, chaste, his plush lips feeling so featherlight against yours. You almost imagine they were never there to begin with because Jeongguk pulls away before you can truly savour the taste of them.

“You know, you look so pretty in my clothes.” He begins, large hand spreading lazily around your left hip and up your back. “Kinda makes me want to wreck you.”

“You already wreck me.” You breathe without missing a beat.

“Yeah?” Jeongguk rasps, his voice low and a little dark. It sends a thrill straight up your spine.

You nod in response, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “No one makes me feel the way you do.” You admit, eyes flitting across his face. It's an unwavering truth—one that simultaneously scares and excites you in this quiet dead of night.

“Can I kiss you again?” The words come out as a breathy whisper; as if you've been holding on to them for too long, as if they're the oxygen you so desperately need to breathe, and Jeongguk tilts his head, bewildered frown on his face.

“How is that even a question.” He gripes, slanting his head in a means to meet your mouth halfway, but you have another idea.

You press into him instead, leaning forward, and set out to peck lovingly along the curvature of Jeongguk’s jawline. He huffs in amusement, endeared by the way you take control. Because, although he’s usually the dominant one in the bedroom, he doesn't mind when you take charge like this. In fact, he's grown to love it. Loves the way you come into your own, toying and teasing with him, until your own actions cause you to grow desperate.

It's one of his greater weaknesses, his Achilles heel, and right now, you want nothing more than to expose it. Unveil a certain side of him. The one that'll see how far you can push before he starts to push back. The one that'll give in and take you right here on this couch after he's entertained your antics for long enough and you finally beg him to fuck you.

Your body practically hums at the thought.

You map out his skin, lips brushing against the surface like you're exploring a new land. Every movement careful, every touch claiming what's yours. And it almost goes to your head—how quickly Jeongguk submits to your mouth’s assault, his body relaxing into the couch like he's letting you have your way with him.

Jeongguk doesn't tell you that he is. That your lips are a holy grail he'd happily yield to.

When your teeth graze lightly at a particular soft spot below his ear, he lets out a small groan, eyes falling closed at the sensation. You feel the sound roll through you, the ache between your legs becoming hard to ignore when you think about the fact that you've roused that melody from his mouth.

It spurs you on, makes you want to hear it again and again. You want to paint the entire column of his neck red and then watch your confession of love fade to a bruised purple in the weeks to come. You want to rediscover all the ways that you can make Jeongguk sing, and the way your body dances to his tune in turn. Your lips lap him up, kisses becoming indelicate with desperation, teeth nipping with intent along his upper jaw, tongue tracing over the skin before you repeat all these gestures twicefold.

You can feel yourself growing wet, relish in the way that Jeongguk's hands tighten around your form. “Shit,” He mumbles and your body crows. Without pause, you shift against his lap and move to the neglected side of his neck, targeting the skin there. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, your core situated right above his growing erection, and it causes a shiver to run down your spine.

You plant a few messy kisses against his throat, nibbling vehemently, but then Jeongguk tuts and pries his eyes open before you have the opportunity to really sink your teeth into him.

“Baby,” He warns, curling a hand into your hair to form a makeshift ponytail. “No marks. I've got a presentation on Monday.” He says and pulls you back by an inch. His movements are somewhat hesitant, voice rough, like he's not entirely sure he truly wants you to stop.

But he has to. He can't afford to show up to class on Monday and present the most important project of his life with hickeys all over his neck.

“Next time.” He promises, but you consider outright ignoring him for a second, even though it's nonsensical, like some twisted form of punishment for a week of neglect.

But it’s Jeongguk—Jeongguk who’s been extra stressed lately about completing his degree. Jeongguk who’s carving time out of working on his big assignment right now—one which, not only counts forty percent of his grade, but could also earn him an internship at one of the top law firms in Seoul if he's lucky enough—all to pay special attention to you.

So, “Fine.” You give in, albeit a little petulantly, and brace your hands against his chest, face feeling flushed. “I’m sorry. I just wanna be close to you is all.”

“I know. Me too.” He rasps, grip on your hair loosening a touch, but not completely. “We don't have to stop though, just don't mark me up.” He explains, free hand rubbing up and down your thigh.

“Okay,” You slide your palms up his chest, feeling the toned muscles tense beneath your touch. “I really love you, you know?”

Jeongguk's eyes soften, a hint of a smile creeping up on his face. “I know,” He hums, tugging at your hair in a way that makes your scalp tingle. “But I don't think it comes close to how much I love you.” He rasps, using his grip as leverage to pull your head backwards until the delicate skin of your throat is exposed. “It's incomparable.” He murmurs, placing a single kiss on the side of your mouth before he travels south, lips peppering across your jawline.

You shiver, hands twisting into the thick material of Jeongguk's t-shirt. You want to tell him that it's not a competition, that you'd love him until the sun stops rising and, even if this one week of distance had been more, you know that he feels the same.

But the heavy palpitations in your chest causes the words to dissolve on your tongue because Jeongguk pulls the collar of your shirt to the side a second later, exposing more of your skin, before he traces a path along your décolletage. He's touching you like a starved man, mouth just as desperate and feverish as you’re starting to feel.

A stuttered gasp escapes your lips, your hands moving upwards, unsure of where to be, when he nips at a particularly sensitive spot. You settle them on his shoulders.

“Jeongguk,” You moan, the tingling between your legs maturing into an unbearable ache.

“I know, baby.” He abruptly pulls away from your clavicle—lips red, eyes blown. “Tell me what you want.”

His demand goes over your head because you don't know what you want; can barely think straight with the lingering feeling of Jeongguk's lips on your neck. With the growing wetness sticking uncomfortably to your panties. With the burning, hot embers laying at the base of your stomach, begging to be set ablaze. And Jeongguk knows that. Knows that you're neither here nor there, only somewhere in the middle, teetering on the line of endless choices. So he lets go of your hair then, manoeuvres your body until you're straddling only his left thigh.

“Don't think about it, baby.” He murmurs, both hands moving to your hips. He guides them back and forth, slow and gentle, with just enough pressure to relieve that desperate throbbing in your pussy. “Just feel.”

And you do, sinking into your own little bubble, a paradise as impenetrable as the gates of heaven. You take your time to grind up against him, moving in tandem with the flow of his hands and a soft whimper climbs up your throat at the sensation of your clit brushing against the firm muscles of Jeongguk’s thigh. You're already so soaked, underwear absolutely sodden from the relentless pendular motions of your pelvis, and when you look down to find a dark, damp spot beginning to stain Jeongguk's sweatpants, you can't help but intensify your movements.

It should be embarrassing, how quickly you've become turned on, how much you're dripping, when Jeongguk's barely touched you, but instead you just feel liberated. Pure power coursing through your veins because your boyfriend has given you the reins, is letting you use his body like a bitch in heat, and it's exhilarating; intoxicating every facet of your mind.

“That's it,” Jeongguk purrs, deserting your hips once you gain momentum to instead sneak both hands up the hem of your shirt.

Your breath escapes its chambers when he trails past the soft curve of your waist and straight to your breasts. “Fuck, you're so beautiful.” He grunts, gaze intent on your every reaction, like he's watching artwork unfold. His nimble fingers circle your nipples, tracing them with the most tantalizing pattern, until they begin to harden.

“Please,” You choke, clasping his shirt in between your fists like it's some sort of lifeline. You're not even sure what you're begging for, pace quickening as you ride Jeongguk’s thigh more aggressively. Every rut forward sends sparks shooting throughout your body, nerve endings alight, and when Jeongguk pinches your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, your back arches in pleasure. A throaty moan penetrates the room otherwise filled with nothing but your uneven pants and the sound of Jeongguk's voice.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” He groans, hands inching towards your shirt’s lower seam. He drags it over your torso, itching for better access to your breasts. Even in your muddled state, you meet him halfway, raising your arms above your head until the damned thing is off and you're left in nothing but your lacy underwear.

You hardly have time to adjust to the humid air hitting your torso, when Jeongguk tips his head forward, enveloping your right nipple into his mouth with reckless abandon. The response is instantaneous, a strangled sob slipping past your lips at the feeling of his warm mouth encased around your stiffened peak. His tongue swipes across your nipple, shockwaves manifesting at the blissful contact, and you don't know how much longer you're going to last—an embarrassing feat you don’t ponder on too much.

Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the attention Jeongguk pays you. Whimpering when the pads of his fingers move to fondle the nipple of your forsaken breast while the other submits to his mouth’s pleasurable torment, each purposeful pinch causing them to tighten all the more. Your skin feels like it's on fire, the warmth of Jeongguk's touch igniting the cinders glowing from deep within your belly. “I-I think,” You swallow, your pussy rubbing deliciously into Jeongguk's leg. “I think I'm going to come soon,” You manage to admit through a repressed whine, voice so strained it sounds foreign even to your own ears.

You don't think you've ever hit an orgasm this quickly. You've never had to. Because you and Jeongguk are like inseparable magnets; every atom in your bodies drawn to each other, always connecting like two poles seeking the other out—never going more than a few days without some form of intimacy. Never mind a week.

At least, not until now.

So when Jeongguk bounces his leg upwards to meet the force of your pussy coming down on his quadricep, adding to the way you slam into him, your clit positively throbbing at the impact, you feel the onset of that familiar coil in your stomach tightening.

“Just let go, baby.” Jeongguk rasps, granting you permission with one final flick of your nipples and then you're coming undone, white fiery heat flooding every fiber of your body, as you cry out his name. Only his name, forever on your lips. You feel the way your entire form convulses, the way Jeongguk helps you through it, flexing his thigh so that you can get the most out of your orgasm, and your hips buck forward—unrelenting and greedy—before they finally ease into a slow rut. Grinding into him until the receding, minuscule waves of pleasure begin to fade.

With the last few clenches of your pulsating core, you slowly catch your breath, muscles slackening as you become pliant in Jeongguk's arms, the weight of your body suddenly too much for you to bear. Your boyfriend holds you tight though, both hands moving to your waist to keep you secure.

Behind the darkness of your closed eyelids; you hear Jeongguk softly murmur your name and feel the way his hand comes up to your face, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear before he cups your cheeks. “You okay, angel?” He asks, voice emerging as a hushed tone.

When you manage to tear your eyes open and give him a soft, affirmative nod, Jeongguk seems satisfied, pressing a delicate kiss to your sternum before he shifts you from his lap and onto your back in one fell, but gentle swoop.

Your head hits the soft leather of the sofa with the aftermath of your climax still lingering against your skin like crackling electricity, fuzzing up your mind. “You think you can take more?” He asks, eyes flitting across your face to get a read on your current state of mind.

You nod your head assuredly, reaching out to make a grab for his body, to bring him closer. “Yeah I can,” You say confidently, arm's snaking up his back to explore the taut muscles that reside there.

Jeongguk is hovering over your body, thigh pressed hotly between your legs, and even though you can feel the rush of arousal, brought on only a second ago, pooling uncomfortably in your underwear—you want more. You want him. “I want to carry on.”

Jeongguk studies your demeanour, casting your body and expression a careful once-over, because he wants to feel you, be in you, wants to make you see stars. But it's only a matter of whether you're able to handle that right now. He has barely had his way with you, but you already look so fucked out, so perfect for him. It makes the blood rush straight to his dick. “You make me crazy.” He rasps, eyes locking with yours as he brings a hand up, tracing his thumb along your bottom lip.

You almost cower beneath his touch, beneath the sincerity of his gaze; appraising the very depths of your being as if you were a delicate treasure, as if he were staring at a god or something of a divine beauty.

Jeongguk thinks that maybe he is; thinks you’re the light, the one thing he’d worship morning, noon and night through blind faith. And there are barely enough words in the dictionary for him to express this notion to you, so instead he settles for “I love you.” Voice as rough as the high tides, but softer than moonlight.

He feels compelled to tell you this every chance he gets, a hopeless slave to his feelings for you. “Like I've never loved anything else in my life.” He continues. It's a quiet confession in the night, not a new one, but the words mean just as much as the first time he admitted them to you.

You feel yourself melt, can't remember ever feeling this cherished. Not since before Jeongguk and hopefully, never after. “I love you too.” You murmur, taking a moment to drink in every detail of the man who has left you restless all night.

Your eyes flicker over the defined cut of his jaw. The delicate curve of his lips and the pretty mole resting just beneath it. The small kissable scar on his cheek. The feathery flutter of his eyelashes. The strands of hair that have fallen over his face, and you retract your hand from his back to push them away.

How did you ever get this lucky?

“So much.” You emphasize and your voice thickens with the weight of your words, spoken from the very depths of your soul. “More than you could ever know.” Because there aren't enough words in the dictionary to get this notion across, so instead you lift your head, planting a firm kiss to Jeongguk’s lips as if sealing a vow, a promise of forever.

Jeongguk receives your kiss like he does with everything else related to you; openly, hungrily. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip—once—twice—and you instantly become pliant under his weight. Your fingers find his hair, tangling into the dark tresses as you deepen the kiss. It’s hot and it’s heavy, and in the distant part of your mind, you register that Jeongguk tastes like peaches, most likely from the alcohol he’s been drinking.

The sweetness of his lips immediately goes to your head; drunk and euphoric, and all grace flies out the window the next second. “Touch me,” You murmur breathlessly against his mouth, fingertips skimming over the nape of his neck. “Please, I need you.”

Jeongguk groans, a husky sound resonating from deep within his throat. “Fuck,” You can feel how rock hard he’s gotten, his erection pressing into your inner thigh and it's making you delirious with need. “I’ll give you anything you want.” Jeongguk rumbles, his mouth forming a wet, messy trek away from yours to embrace the flesh of your breasts.

You want to tell him that it's him, only him you want. Puppeteering your every move, body relinquishing itself to his touch. But you don't. You can't, not when Jeongguk's teeth leave scarlet marks across your chest that render you mute, words evaporating on your tongue like sacramental bread.

“My pretty baby,” He coos tenderly and you fight the urge to rut up against him. “Always so fucking ready for me.“ He praises, kisses traveling southward and it burns, searing, everywhere that Jeongguk touches you. You think you might erupt or shatter, and nothing less, if he doesn't meet you where you really need him to, your cunt begging to be satiated with his fingers, or his tongue, or his dick—anything.

A whimper escapes your lips, an embarrassing, desperate sound hanging in the thick air, as you glance down past your heaving breasts. You watch as Jeongguk abandons your boobs, planting a trail of kisses across the expanse of your stomach, your hip bones—takes the tiny little ribbon on your underwear between his teeth and tugs. The deliberate gesture causes your panty to rise up a bit, ever so slightly brushing against your clit in the process, and you bite down on your bottom lip, holding back an ungodly moan.

You can't take it anymore, all this teasing.

Jeongguk can read it on your face; sees it in the way you swiftly tilt your head back, eyes closed, brows scrunched together. He knows you like the back of his hand, which is how he gauges that you've fallen back into a place of submission—done with the tortuous foreplay, done with calling the shots, done with delaying the inevitable. You want him to fuck you, to use your body the same way you had used his mere minutes ago. And if his dick could get any harder at the thought, it would.

Jeongguk licks his lips, slips a finger into the curve of your waistband as he murmurs, “I’m gonna take this off now, okay?”

You nod your head, not daring to open your eyes to confront the image of Jeongguk's face a mere hair's breadth away from your cunt. It's too erotic. Too much. You feel him drag the thin garment down your legs, a string of arousal following suit, and suddenly feel self-conscious, attempting to close your legs to hide how shamefully wet you are.

But Jeongguk's not having any of that.

He carelessly chucks the lacy material to the side like it’s nothing but a rag, a nuisance, and then grips your inner thigh. “Don't you dare,” He grunts, using his grasp to keep your legs apart, lifting them upwards until your knees are bent to your chest and your ankles are resting over his shoulders, giving him the perfect view of your dripping cunt.

You barely have time to register the ticklish feeling of Jeongguk's breath fanning against your core before he dives straight in, licking a long stripe across your pussy, and your hips instinctively buck up. “Shit,” You mewl, rejoicing in the way his tongue traverses from your slit to your clit, lapping up every drop of arousal.

Jeongguk groans, a sound so low, stemming from the heart of his diaphragm, when he samples that first morsel of your leaking nectar. You taste like heaven, so sweet and unbearably wet, and all just for him.

“So fucking good,” He grumbles, mouth drinking you in. His tongue is unrelenting in its efforts to devour your pussy, and the overwhelming sensation of him slurping and sucking—of him eating you out like a connoisseur tasting the rarest of delicacies—causes frenzied pools of pleasure to ripple within the base of your belly.

He keeps at it, nose brushing against your clit as a byproduct, and after a few minutes the pure, unwavering rapture of Jeongguk's tongue becomes excruciating. A feeling so good, it’s almost too much. “Jeongguk,” You wail, heels digging into the couch as you try to back away from his mouth, but your boyfriend merely hooks his arms around your legs and pulls you closer. Holding you in place; unable to run or escape from the ruthless onslaught of his tongue, from the metal bite of his piercing brushing against your lower lips. “I can't,” You cry, writhing beneath his touch.

With his grip keeping you firmly anchored, Jeongguk brings one hand down to toy with your swollen clit, fingers moving in languid, clockwise motions. “You can,” He grunts thickly, tongue slipping between your folds and prodding deliciously at your hole. “I know you can, baby.” He mumbles in between fucking your drenched pussy with his fleshy muscle.

You shake your head frantically, eyes screwed shut, as you feel the waves of your second orgasm surfacing. “Not like this,” You beg, using your hands to reach down, fingers twisting into his fluffy hair as you desperately try to push him away. “Please, I want you in me.” A sob runs free, your walls pulsating around nothing because Jeongguk is taking his time with you, teasing your opening like he's got all night. But you don't. You're close, so fucking close, you can feel it in the tightening muscles of your pelvis, in the quivering of your legs.

But Jeongguk isn't giving you enough. He isn't giving you what you need. Your boyfriend, in all his hot glory, is taking you there with his tongue, swirling insufferably along your orifice—bringing you right up to the edge of the plank with an ocean of pleasure waiting just below your feet, but then he pulls you back. Drags you from the precipice before you can allow yourself to fall in, and it causes a frustrated whine to escape your lips. You need his cock deep inside, filling you up, pushing you off the ledge and into troubled waters. Your pussy throbs at the very thought. “Please Kook,” You find yourself beseeching for the second time. “I wanna cum with you in me.”

And any thread of composure Jeongguk has been holding on to up until that point, snaps at the pure neediness burrowed within your tone.

He looks up at you; lips glistening, eyes dilated—a mess of a man. But you don't look any better—or, if you were getting a glimpse of yourself through Jeongguk's point of view, never better—skin flushed, gleaming with a fine film of sweat, lips swollen from the way you've been biting them, and all at once, Jeongguk is overcome with the desire to give you everything you've ever wanted.

“Fuck, okay,” He curses, rising to his knees and you force your eyes open at the rough edge tainting his voice, at the overwhelming relief of getting what you wished for. “But it’s going to be a bit of a stretch, baby.” He says, not having prepped you fully. It's been a while since the two of you have had sex and, if he had it his way, he would have given you his fingers first, would have warmed and widened your lubricated walls, to ease the initial discomfort of him entering you.

But you look so pretty beneath him, so impatient, and—“I can handle it,” You mollify, voice a sweet concoction of sultry persuasion.

He nods in response, a curt motion, because if he thinks about how eager you're being, about how you're willing to take a little bit of the pain for the insurmountable pleasure, he might just come right there. Might just think of all the other ways you like to hurt; of the way you'd react if his palm made rough contact with your ass cheeks, or what would happen if he handcuffed you to his bedpost and stuffed you full with a vibrator and butt plug—if he fucked you tonight with no end in sight. He wonders if you'd cry, if you'd beg him for more or want him to stop, sopping and spent. More than that, he wants so badly to find out.

Jeongguk’s dark eyes find yours, their typical doe-eyed demeanour having turned hooded a long time ago. Yours are twinkling with anticipation, watching intently as he pulls his sweatpants down, letting them hang low beneath his buttocks. His cock immediately springs free, slapping against his stomach, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip at the sight.

“Come here,” Jeongguk's voice carries a jagged intonation, raw and untamed, and breaks through you like crashing waves. But when he makes a grab for your body, his hands are nothing but gentle, hoisting you up onto your knees and positioning you on all fours.

With your ass bared before him, face pressed into the cold faux leather of the couch, Jeongguk smooths a hand down your back, watches with satisfaction as your spine yields before his touch, and then he takes a hold of his dick. Doesn't even bother giving it a few preliminary pumps because he's already painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip as he lines himself with your hole.

He doesn't put it in though.

First, he teases your little cunt with only the head of his length, not fully embedding himself within your warmth just yet. You whimper pathetically at the testing prod, fingers balling into frustrated fists, while Jeongguk watches in awe as your entrance narrows, pleading to be stuffed.

“God, look at you.” Jeongguk groans, eyes traveling from your glistening pussy to the state of your overall servile form.

He places one hand on your hip, fingers digging into the skin there, as he inches just the slightest bit forward, his dick slowly pushing into you. Your mouth parts at the sensation and you shakily prop yourself up onto your elbows, head falling forward with a moan. “So fucking needy, huh.” He goads when you attempt to meet him in the middle, subtly backing up against his pelvis.

“No,” You shake your head as if it's some sort of lie, as if you haven't been thinking about this moment since you stepped over the doorsill of Jeongguk’s apartment earlier. And your boyfriend laughs—he actually laughs—a maniacal, derisive sound that rings in your ears.

“There's no need to deny it, baby.” He drawls like smooth liquor hitting the back of your throat, a silky succour that, for some reason, has you dumbly nodding along. Because Jeongguk’s entering you more now, his dick fighting against the tight restraint of your heat, and you're too distracted by the feeling of it to fully comprehend what he's saying.

“I mean,” He continues, reaching down between your legs to gather the wetness clinging to your folds before he bends over your back, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You’d think you've never been fucked a day in your life.” He murmurs, bringing his slick fingers to your level of sight.

You flush instantly, burning at the way your arousal dwells on Jeongguk's digits and forms a translucent web when he parts them into a V shape. “I can't help it,” You breathe shamefully, about to protest that it's his fault for letting you go so long without attention, for not taking care of your sexual needs and making you this susceptible to moments of depravity, when Jeongguk fully entrenches himself into your heat without so much as a warning.

“Aah,” Your jaw slackens at the sudden stretch of his length against your walls, the sensation so unfairly delicious you find yourself clenching around the intrusion with a gasp, and your boyfriend uses the opportunity to stuff his letch-laiden fingers into your mouth.

“Clean them.” He grunts, lazily rocking forward and you choke back a moan, mouth instantly closing around his fingers. Head full of clouds, pussy filled to the brim, you obey. Your tongue licks up the juices stuck to his slim digits, gliding sensually across each one with care, and you vaguely hear Jeongguk curse below his breath, hips grinding into your core. “Fuck, just like that, angel.” He praises, allowing you to suck them clean for a few more seconds before he pulls them from your lips altogether with a lewd pop.

“Such a good girl,” He murmurs lovingly, pressing a singular kiss to your shoulder blade before he straightens to his full height behind you. “Always so perfect for me.”

Jeongguk's hands find your ass again and he gives the supple flesh a few gentle squeezes, savouring the way you whine in response.

“Please,” Your words come out embarrassingly broken and wretched, heart hammering in your chest with want, as you peek at Jeongguk over your shoulder. “Please, no more teasing. Just fuck me.”

“What do you think I'm doing?” Jeongguk asks, eyebrow raised, voice harbouring a hue of cockiness. He withdraws his thick length from your warm embrace at an agonizingly slow rate before thrusting right back in, repeating the motion steadily. “I'm fucking you right now, aren't I?”

You want to cry, your need to come so severe, it's starting to physically hurt.

Your fingers leave deep indents in the couch as you tackle the burning coals of frustration setting every inch of your body on fire. “M-More,” You stammer, feeling a pearl of arousal trickle down your thigh. You're so turned on right now, your mind an empty haze as Jeongguk edges you into oblivion, cunt so wet, you can barely feel the brush of his shaft against your walls anymore. “I need more.”

Jeongguk grins, feels the crown of his cock brush against a particular soft spot, and then decides to give you what you want. Because he loves it when you beg, when you become a blubbering mess beneath him, so cock-hungry, you forget yourself.

Without a moment's pause, Jeongguk pounds into you with unbridled vigour. His hips slap against your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room, and your body jerks forward at the impact. Your core is so drenched he's able to enter you with little resistance now. Emitting a rough, throaty groan, he fixates on how your creamy arousal coats his cock, disappearing in and out of your cunt.

“F-Fuck,” You hiss, your hand reaching back to firmly grip Jeongguk’s wrist for support, but he takes advantage of your extended arm and yanks you up until your back is pressed to his chest.

The new position gives him better access to your front and Jeongguk ghosts a hand around your waist without a second thought, smooths it down your stomach until he reaches your clit. Your body jolts the instant his fingers make contact with the swollen bud, legs quivering with the strength it's taking you to stay upright.

Your boyfriend notices your struggle and hooks his other arm around your waist, his fingertips holding you so tightly you won't be surprised if some bruises appear there tomorrow.

“Fuck, I've missed this.” He rasps, more to himself than you, whilst drilling against your g-spot. But the words affect you just the same as your pussy tightens in response, squeezing him into a death grip, and Jeongguk's hips stutter. “Jesus,” He groans, making a mental effort to stave off his own orgasm, trying to focus solely on you.

You really are going to be the death of him.

He breathes heavily through his nostrils before starting up again, slowly driving into you and his cock burrows so deep, you swear you can feel it in your uterus.

His fingers skim over your clit, tracing the nub ever so slightly because you're starting to flinch from his touch, starting to grow sensitive. And when your head falls back against his shoulder, a choked whine forcing its way out your throat, Jeongguk knows that you're close.

“You gonna come for me?” Jeongguk's lips brush against your temple, his hand deserting your pussy in sympathy to knead your breasts instead. You feel his thumb run over your nipple, static lightning steamrolling across your skin with each sweep.

“I-ah!” You can barely form a coherent sentence, the inklings of even one lucid thought slipping from your empty, fucked out mind as Jeongguk slams into you. He's setting a brutal pace, the noise of skin-against-skin undeniably obscene, but you can hardly find the will to care when the muscles in your abdomen begin to tense. They twist up like a clockwork toy, winding and winding, until Jeongguk hits a particular spot that makes your toes curl, and then you're coming undone for the second time tonight, knees buckling with the sheer force of your orgasm.

It hits you like a freight train, your body spasming. White dots of euphoria blur your vision, the pleasure so blinding, and Jeongguk's hold around your midsection is the only reason you don't collapse right there onto the couch.

“That's it, baby.” He reveres, hips never ceasing their movements even as your walls contract sporadically, determined to fuck you through it. An uncannily pornstar moan spills from your lips, mind and body having finally plunged into the silvery, stormy torrents of your climax, and the strangled sound causes something impossibly primal to rupture within Jeongguk. It thrashes at his chest like a wild caged animal, demanding release, and he recognizes the feeling all too well.

“You're mine, right? ” He finds himself grunting, voice husky with strain. The hand that was attending to your boobs instinctively ascends to your throat, squeezing slightly as he chases his own high, gives in to that grueling streak of possessiveness that only every rears its head when he has you like this—naked and vulnerable—and you groan at the familiar pressure.

You hum, walls clenching around him. “Only yours.” Your own hand reaches up, cuffing around his wrist for support as a tremor runs down your spine.

Jeongguk feels his balls tighten, the knowledge that he’s the sole witness to this side of you, so subservient and docile, sets him off the deep end.

Then you angle your head to the side, joining your lips with his. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, but the intimacy of it all causes Jeongguk's last bit of composure to crack.

He spills into you with a groan, the sound muffled by your mouth, as he rocks forward until every last drop of his seed is snug within your warmth.

The feeling of his cum bursting inside of you, length twitching, causes your pussy to flutter by reflex, milking Jeongguk of every ounce of cum, only suspending their contractions once he's thoroughly depleted.

By the end, you're both a heaving mess; chests rising and falling in unison as you come down, the electric current pulsing through your bodies fading into a comfortable hum.

Your skin is still buzzing, head befuddled, when Jeongguk presses a few lazy kisses across your shoulder—as if to ground you, to bring you back from the constellations he's painted behind your eyes.

“You were so good, baby.” He commends, smoothing the hair at the side of your profile and you can't help the soft, but dopey smile that breaks out onto your face then.

“I've been dreaming about that for forever.” You murmur, submitting to the assault of his lips. Your boyfriend chuckles in return, nuzzling your neck as he commits the smell of your skin, an alluring scent of sex and lavender, to his memory.

“Me too,” He hums, thumb gliding gently across the contour of your waist. Your sensitive pussy throbs at the light touch, rousing from the stimulation; which only reminds you of the unpleasant remnants of arousal coating your inner thighs.

As if reading your mind, Jeongguk whispers against your skin. “Let's get you cleaned up, okay?”

He eyes your figure carefully, waiting for any hint of consent before he leaves you here alone.

You manage to muster a nod and then feel his dick slip from your entrance a second later, withdrawing in a way that makes you cringe and leaves you feeling oddly empty.

“I’ll be right back.” He assures, his lips quickly, but comfortingly, brushing against your hairline. Thereafter, from your peripheral, you see Jeongguk detach himself from your side, pulling his pants back up as he disappears into the bathroom to do what he does best—take care of you.

In the meantime, you resist the temptation to slump back onto the sofa, feeling a hefty load of cum leaking down your thighs. Every muscle in your body feels relaxed, those sparks from earlier sizzling down into sleepy, smoky remnants that weigh you down. Mind a dazed mess, not sure of how much time has passed, you almost give in—the slumber you so desperately sought out at the beginning of the night finally settling into your bones—when Jeongguk walks back into the living room. He's changed into a pair of briefs and is carrying a wet cloth, as well as, a small tube of ointment.

Your body instantly perks up, a little rejuvenated by his presence.

“Hey,” Jeongguk murmurs once he's back in your close vicinity, fingers brushing against your cheeks as he peers down at you with a soft smile.

“Hey,” You tiredly grin back, pointing a finger at the items in his hand. “Those for me?”

Jeongguk hums, draping an arm around your waist to steady you. If you had the energy to freshen yourself up, you honestly would but currently, you can barely keep your eyes open. So instead you lean on your boyfriend—figuratively and literally—clutching onto his biceps as he brings the warm cloth to your nether regions. You hiss a little at the contact, still feeling delicate down there, but Jeongguk handles you with a gentle mindfulness that makes your heart swell. Makes you think back to a little over an hour ago, when you were alone in bed unable to fall asleep because he wasn't there.

And sometimes it worries you. How much you need him. How much something as simple and basic as sleep, needs the warmth of his touch to make its mark on you. How much you’ve grown to love him in the span of a few months, your life endlessly orbiting around him like the earth to the sun. How much the deepest crevices of your soul, where the vile fear of abandonment and instinctual desire to run, relinquish themselves to the light of Jeongguk’s unconditional love.

You watch him toss the used washcloth to the side before unscrewing the top of the ointment. Sigh; as his fingers, tender with purpose, apply dabs of vitamin K salve to your hips where the marks from his fingertips are starting to surface. “Shit, I'm so sorry baby.” He apologizes, the raspy, hushed tone of his voice communicating how guilt-ridden he feels. “I didn't mean to be this rough.”

And, you've never known a love like this. One that rustles through your hair like the wind on the drive down to your parents. One that meets you in the dead of winter between classes, wrapped up in coats and scarves, and coffee as the snow falls. One that kisses you goodnight, hands cupping your cheeks while the street lamps flicker outside.

One that dresses all your bruises.

It makes you want to run in the opposite direction every now and then, fleeing until you forget that you ever knew it could be this good, this safe.

But, staring at Jeongguk and the careful, intricate way he's massaging ointment onto all your black-and-blues, you bury these trepidations away, laying them to rest in the one place they belong—the past.

Because yes, you’ve never had this sort of love before—the seriousness, the commitment.

The emptied-out drawers for your clothes.

The spare toothbrush at his place.

The conversations of a future together—the clear line being crossed from fling to forever.

Even though it's a concept so scary and unfamiliar, and foreign to you—you never want to let it go.

You never want to let him go.

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pumpkin-cake · 1 month

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begging for ANYTHING fix it related for the most recent season !!!

five x reader and they are married?? it would be nice if the reader had a more relaxed job in comparison to five in the CIA (the reader used to also work for the commission but wanted a calm life)

like maybe working in a daycare or flower shop?

i’m honestly begging for anything sweet please if you’ve got the time !

THIS HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD. YES, I WILL WRITE THIS FOR YOU <3 I ALSO HATE THE WAY THEY CHARACTERIZED FIVE IN THE NEW SEASON. This will be very domestic :3 And it's been a while since I've written Five, I hope he's not too out of character, let me know if you have any pointers :3

The door to your apartment creaks open and heavy footsteps enter, the jangling sounds of house keys hitting the ceramic bowl reaching your ears with a sigh following.

"Good evening, Jerome." You coo.

"I did not pick that name, quit calling me it." Five huffs as he shrugs off his suit jacket, entering the living room. He looked tired, but he was okay with that. He didn't want to settle for some repetitive job he'd be bored as hell at. Even if they gave him stupid aliases like Jerome.

"You could have at least asked. That's embarrassing, telling people your name is Jerome. What about...Ethan? Or even something that's close to Five. Like, Finn, or something." You answered with a chuckle, while Five crumpled on the couch next to you.

"There isn't any point. It's not like you need to go around calling me that name." He said, taking off his tie and laying it across the arm of the sofa. "Anyway, how was work?" He asked, taking off his brown Oxfords and laying them nearby but out of the main walkway. He reached over to the stack of papers on the coffee table and looked at the first page. "Jesus, this is the sloppiest handwriting I've ever seen."

"Ah yes, because children who still have shitty motor skills are going to be writing in perfect print. That's why they only have to write their names, not write full-fledged essays." You said sarcastically, plucking the piece of paper from his hands. You looked over the assignment your kindergarteners were given. The instructions were to count the different types of bugs on the paper. There were no more than 9 of each bug. 4 butterflies, 7 caterpillars, 1 beetle, 8 spiders.

"I was never that dumb." Five said a little snarkily, pointing to the answer spot that said there were only 5 caterpillars.

"Don't be such a prick." You huffed, getting out a blue pen. You didn't like to use red, too harsh. You circled each answer wrong, not making any corrections.

"How are you even meant to teach them this? It's basic counting." Five asked, sort of actually curious.

"We'll just go over it in class tomorrow. Everyone will count together."

"Then what's the point of the homework?"

You groaned. "We are not having this conversation anymore, old man." You pulled out a pack of stickers, putting one on each sheet of paper.

"You're just as old." He countered with a smirk, leaving you to roll your eyes and continue 'grading' the papers. He did shut up and drop the subject, letting his hand stray to your hand that wasn't busy grading papers. He wasn't ever one for physical affection in the past, but ever since getting to this place? He was more lenient. He was never hanging off of you, but his touches were gentler. Each contact of skin was a small way of saying 'I love you', because it was hard to say it out loud after years of isolation.

The biggest way of him saying he loved you was twisting the ring that nicely fit on your finger like he was doing right now. Like he was making sure you were aware of its presence and meaning.

You finished the papers in less than five minutes. You did not envy the fourth-grade teachers who had actual homework to grade. "Your dinner is in the fridge." You told him, taking his other hand and playing with the black band that adorned his ring finger.

"Not hungry." He said shortly, like he was offended you'd ever assume he wanted to do something aside from this. He wouldn't ever say that out loud, of course.

"It's sushi. Made by yours truly." You added, holding back a chuckle when he sucked in a deep breath, very torn between the options. It was weird, able to sit and think about something. He wasn't rushing home to eat and go to bed, he got to do domestic shit with you and fuck did he love it.

"..." Five stayed silent like a brooding teenager.

"I'll come with you." You reasoned, and he reluctantly sat up. You smiled and got up with him, the two of you traversing to the kitchen. He opened the door to the fridge and grabbed the small Tupperware of delicious looking sushi. You were not a fan of Commission cafeteria food, and you took pride in buying the best ingredients for you and your spouse. You were already grabbing him a pair of chopsticks, sitting with him at the kitchen island.

"...thanks." He said after eating a roll. He was stubborn, but he really did appreciate you taking the time to make more for him when he got home late. It was so nice to come home to a homemade meal. It reminded him of Grace.

"Of course, honey." You smiled, sitting in silence while he ate. He savored every moment. After being in the apocalypse for forty years, he really grew to appreciate the things he didn't have. He swore he would never take this life for granted.

He never questioned why, because the whole reason was sitting right next to him.

#x reader #gn!reader #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #fluff #aidan gallagher #umbrella academy season 4

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halfvalid · 1 year

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Hiii! If its no trouble could I have a zoro and reader fic with the one bed trope? The others know about their crushes on each other so they force each other to share a room? Anyway they end up cuddling and its all cute (the others will tease them forever about it lol)?? Thankss

intertwined ribbons

ABOUT

alternate title: opla zoro makes my hated tropes less hated

rating: general audiences/teen & up

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!nami | live action!straw hats ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

description: unbeknownst to you, your crush on zoro is reciprocated. the rest of the straw hats take it upon themselves to get you together by locking you in his bedroom overnight.

tags: strawhat!reader, only one bed, forced proximity, confessions, no use of 'y/n', nami is a true instigator, cuddling, soft zoro, humor

author's note: thank you so much for the request and i hope it meets your expectations!! fun fact i actually used to hate the 'only one bed' trope, so i decided to challenge myself in writing this. and i think it's one of my fave tropes now lol

(you have an inner spirit that helps you make decisions except it’s just nami.)

“I just think that maybe you should stop avoiding him,” Nami started. You bit your cheek, ignoring her as you tied up the last of the ship’s rigging into a careful knot. Nami had been going on for the past few minutes, and you’d zoned out exactly three seconds in, when the name Zoro had first been spoken. Because of this reason you weren’t really listening, so you blinked up at her in confusion.

“Sorry? Who am I avoiding?”

“You’re impossible,” Nami grumbled. “And you know exactly who I’m talking about.” Which, well, fair. The math added up: you heard the word Zoro, you stopped listening, Nami continued talking until she realized you’d stopped listening. “Especially since you’re, you know—” she gave you another look, eyes rolling over to stare dead into yours— “Avoiding him.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said innocently. Nami sighed, leaning over to tug the rope dangling from your hands out of your grip. You tried to reach back for it, but she didn’t let you. “Hey!”

“Yes, you do. Face it. You’re avoiding Zoro.”

You made a face at her. “I think there are ropes on the foredeck that I can attend to.”

“No, there aren’t,” Nami answered. “Now stop changing the subject. There’s this wild concept called communication. It works wonders.”

“Says you,” you muttered, though your arms crossed defensively across your chest. You noticed the action after a split-second and unwound your arms with a scowl. “Look, I just don’t see the point. And I haven’t been avoiding him.”

You were, in fact, avoiding him. Ever since that dreadful night a week ago when Nami had gotten you tipsy and stuck her hand in your chest cavity fishing for secrets, you’d been avoiding him. The other girl was ridiculously good at prying truths out of you, and during the conversation, you’d accidentally spilled your crush on the Straw Hat crew’s resident swordsman.

You’d managed to keep the secret for the months you’d been together, wherein the unfortunate feelings had developed, and you should’ve figured once somebody knew they wouldn’t leave you alone about it. Because Nami refused to talk about literally anything else. You’d expected this sort of behavior from Luffy, or maybe Sanji, but Nami? The world was more amatonormative than you'd thought.

Nami cast you a look. “You’re blushing.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. What’s the harm in talking to him?” Nami demanded, one hand on her hip as she stared you down. You gaped at her.

“Um, literally everything? One, Zoro can’t talk about feelings or emotions for shit, so when he rejects me it’ll be in the most excruciating, offhand manner that will probably leave me at the bottom of a barrel of rum, two, after being rejected I’m going to have to leave the Straw Hats, three—”

Nami rolled her eyes, looking increasingly fed up with you. “For someone so obsessed with not telling our resident grass-headed swordsman about your feelings for him, you’re talking rather loudly.”

You shut up, snapping your jaw closed with a glare. “Stop it,” you hissed.

“Besides, who knows if he actually will reject you?” Nami turned to work on the next section of rigging, glancing over her shoulder at you. “You’re catastrophizing.”

“I’m being realistic,” you snapped. “Okay, fine. He reciprocates my feelings. Then what? We date, we break up because all relationships eventually end, it becomes awkward, and—voila—I’ll have to leave the Straw Hats anyway. It’s a bad idea all around.”

Nami just let out a huff of breath, the exhale laced with irritation. “Catastrophizing,” she repeated.

“I am not—”

“Sure. Go help Sanji with dinner.”

You gave her an exasperated look, but at this point Nami wasn’t paying attention anymore, so you stormed off into the underbelly of the Going Merry. Speak of the devil, apparently, because once you entered the kitchen you spotted not only Sanji occupying it but also Zoro. He was lounging at the table, swords strapped to his waist and a bottle of something he was nursing in hand.

You averted your gaze from him, head running a million miles a minute. Had he noticed you’d been avoiding him? You’d tried to be furtive about it, but if Nami had noticed, maybe—

“Well, hello there,” Sanji called from where he was in the midst of dinner preparations. “Come to help?”

“Nami sent me,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I think she’s appointed herself queen of the Going Merry.”

“Oh, she did that long ago,” Sanji chided. “You’re only noticing it now. Pick up a knife, then. I’d like some help dicing the carrots.”

You stiffly moved over to the counter, ignoring Zoro as you went even as you felt his gaze following your figure. You picked up the first knife you found, positioning yourself in front of the cutting board to start dicing the vegetables already laid out for you. Abruptly, Zoro stood up.

“Heading out,” he muttered. “Call me when dinner’s ready.”

With that, he left the room, leaving you and Sanji to exchange looks. “He’s moody today,” you said.

“Probably ‘cause you’ve been avoiding him.”

You felt the familiar pinprick of a blush starting to warm your cheeks. “You too?”

“You’re rather obvious about it,” Sanji said with a raised eyebrow. “But enough of that.” Weirdly enough, he didn’t seem to question why. There was no way Nami had told him, so you were left confused, but no matter. The point was that for now, you were safe.

The hour dipped to evening, and soon the moon was glowing in the sky, a shining beacon of white amidst the ocean of stars and shimmering sea. You suppressed a yawn, busing the dishes from dinner as the rest of the crew got up from their respective seats to dissolve to their own rooms. Zoro had already retired for the night—if you were avoiding him, he seemed to be doing the exact same—so at least you didn’t have that to worry about.

“Ah, wait,” Nami said, after you’d finished washing the dishes and was ready to head out. “Zoro wants to talk to you.”

You jolted, glancing nervously around you before grabbing her wrist. “What did you do?” you hissed. Nami just laughed.

“Calm down. I didn’t do anything.” Off your glare, she relented. “I promise. And I swear it’s not about feelings or emotions or whatever. Even though it’s obvious you’re avoiding him, you know Zoro wouldn’t say anything.”

You were still suspicious, but you dropped your hand. “What, then?”

Nami shrugged, tilting her chin up just so. “I guess you’re going to have to find out.”

“I don’t trust you,” you muttered. There was that look in her eye, the one she got whenever she was thinking of something truly devious. Still, you couldn’t figure out what she was up to, so— “Fine, I’ll go to his room. Walk me.”

Nami rolled her eyes, but she fell into step with you as you made your way across the ship. “You should bring it up to him, you know,” she started, but silenced after your sharp glare. “Okay, okay. I get the point. I’ll stop bothering you about it.”

You stopped by the mouth of Zoro’s door. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really,” Nami said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She leaned against the wall beside the door, arms crossing over her chest. “I’ll leave you alone about Mr. Prince Charming over there. Knock.”

“You can't call him Mr. Prince Charming,” you said, though you did knock. “Prince’ is already a title.”

Nami gave you a look. “Okay, smart-ass.”

The door creaked open before you could give your response, and you turned, heart pounding in your throat as Zoro stared down at you. His arm was propped up by the open doorway, the other hand still clutching the doorknob. “What.”

“Um, Nami said that you wanted to talk—” you swiveled your head towards the other girl, but before you could finish your sentence, Nami was raising up your arm and unceremoniously shoving you into the room.

You shrieked in surprise as you fell into Zoro’s figure, stumbling into him and causing him to lose his balance. Your head shot up in offense, only to see the gleam of a golden padlock in Nami’s hand before she was yanking the door closed.

A dull click echoed through the room. The only thing you could hear for a few seconds was your own heavy breathing and the sound of Zoro gathering himself.

“Did she just—” You gaped at the closed door. “Lock us in?”

Zoro swiftly pushed past you, jiggling the doorknob for a few moments before giving up. Sure enough, Nami had sealed it with the padlock from the outside, so there was no possibility of either of you getting out of the room. You could vaguely hear sounds from the outside—dull thuds and scrapes—and watched as Zoro started banging on the door.

“Nami,” he called, voice dangerously low. “Let us out.”

“Sorry, Zoro!” Your jaw practically unhinged from your skull once you heard your captain’s familiar voice, all bright and cheerful like always. “We’re putting barrels in front of the door, so don’t even try breaking it down. Have a good night!”

“Luffy? What are you—” Zoro’s knocking quickened in pace, his voice getting increasingly louder. There was no response from outside, though you could hear snickers that sounded suspiciously like Usopp. What was going on?

You kicked into action, joining Zoro by the door and trying the door handle again. “Nami!” you yelled.

Nami’s soft laugh came from outside. “Sorry!” she called. “We’ll let you out in the morning.”

You gaped at the door, only aware of Zoro’s gaze sliding down to you as you dropped your hand from the doorknob. There were some more tigers from outside, and then receding footsteps. Zoro tried knocking one last time, but it was evident that the rest of the crew had all but abandoned you.

“Okay,” Zoro muttered, moving away from the door. “I need a drink.”

You watched him move across the room, picking up a glass from his bedside table that was only slightly full. He knocked it back in one swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. “Um, what now?” you asked uncomfortably.

“Nothing. Whatever,” Zoro said, turning to glance over at you. After a moment’s thought, you noticed that he refused to look you in his eye—his gaze was firmly trained at a spot beside your head. He turned away, stripping off his sword scabbard and setting them on the floor.

You glanced around nervously. Zoro’s room wasn’t that different from yours, really—less decorated, but the constitution was the same. There was the bed, a wardrobe, a desk with various paraphernalia across it, and a little couch in the corner too. “You can look through the closet for something to sleep in. I’ll take the chair.”

The words didn’t register at first, and you were left standing there, staring as Zoro kicked off his shoes and assumedly started getting ready to sleep. “Um, what?”

Zoro glanced over his shoulder. He still wouldn’t look you in the eye. “They’re not letting us out until morning,” he said slowly. “You can take the bed. Might as well sleep.”

“It’s your room,” you started, crossing your arms. “I can sleep in the chair. I’m smaller than you, anyway, so I’ll fit it better.”

Zoro regarded you with such a reproachful look you almost wanted to laugh. “That’s ridiculous. Change.” With that, he turned around, leaving no room for discussion. You stared at him for a second before giving up, moving to his wardrobe and opening it up to search for something to sleep in.

“So, uh, any ideas on why they stuck us in here?” You asked, although you already knew the answer. Whatever Nami thought locking you in a room with Zoro would achieve, you were stubbornly not going to let her be right. God, you were so going to kill her once you got out of there.

“Nope,” Zoro said, with such a degree of finality you figured it wouldn’t be safe to question him further. “They’re just stupid.”

“I mean, I feel like they would have a motive?” You rifled through his clothes, trying very hard to detach them from their owner. Wearing Zoro’s clothes was not something you wanted your mind to linger upon. Eventually you found a shirt of his that would undoubtedly be oversized on you, and you hastily changed into it, satisfied to find it draped well to your knees so you weren’t exposing too much skin.

You stole a glance over your shoulder at Zoro, only to catch him in the action of peeling his shirt off. The stretch of the muscles in his back gleamed in the dim light of the room, and you tore your gaze away, heat rushing to your face. “Um. Anything?”

“Nope,” Zoro repeated. Carefully, you closed the wardrobe door, lingering in one spot with your hands clenched together. Once you heard him start moving again, you deemed it safe enough to turn towards the rest of the room. He’d changed into a loose tan shirt, and had settled back into the chair.

“I said I’d take the chair,” you told him hotly.

“Yeah, and I said no,” Zoro said, tone dismissive. He had his eyes closed, and you stared at him in disbelief.

“I’m not sleeping in your bed,” you said, and then, just to emphasize your point, plopped down on the floor. Zoro cracked an eye open and stared down at you. He sighed.

“Get up. Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not being stupid,” you said. “It’s your room. It’s your bed. You will sleep on it. If you’re not giving me the chair, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Zoro let out a long sigh, closing both his eyes as if he was contemplating all his life decisions. “I’m not sleeping in the bed, you know,” he said.

“Okay, so neither of us do.”

Zoro’s brows creased, and he opened his eyes to glare down at you. “Seriously? At least take the chair, then. I’ll sleep on the flo—”

You gave him a sharp look. “Zoro.”

“This conversation isn’t getting anywhere,” Zoro muttered, and finally got up from his chair. You glanced up at him expectantly. “What can I do to convince you to take the bed?”

“Uh, nothing.”

“We can work out a compromise,” Zoro said with a sigh. “I want you on it, and you want me on it, and neither of us are willing to take it ourselves.” He paused, brow creasing as an idea seemed to form in his head—one he didn’t seem to be a giant fan of, but an idea nonetheless. “How about.” His lips pursed, before he parted them again to finish his sentence. “How about we both take it?”

It felt like someone had hit you square in the chest, air kicking out of your lungs and leaving you gasping for breath. Your windpipe was all raw, and you had to fight to tear any words out from your throat. “Ex—excuse me?”

“It’s big enough,” Zoro said stiffly, though his hands were clenched at his sides. “I can take one side and you can take the other. Since you’re so dead-set on me sleeping on it.”

“I—” You cut yourself off, suddenly far too aware of Zoro’s eyes fixed on you. Watching your every move. Oh, Nami was in for it now. How were you supposed to survive sleeping in the same bed as—you didn’t even want to think about it.

“Well?” Zoro prompted.

“Fine,” you agreed hastily, ducking your head lest Zoro catch any of the flush that was undoubtedly rising steadily up your cheeks. It was bad enough you were stuck in his bedroom and wearing his clothes—but this had quickly become your own personal circle of hell. “Good enough for me.”

“Finally.” With that, Zoro climbed into bed, settling himself on the very edge of its side. Your throat had gone dry, and you stared at him for another second before hurriedly turning away to flick the lights off. You approached the other side of the bed with an extreme lack of enthusiasm, staring at the empty sheets like they were cackling up at you. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Eventually you slid into the bed, busying yourself with arranging the blankets around your figure. Zoro’s breaths were steady and deep from beside you. You didn’t know what to do for a second, but then Zoro’s voice was cutting through the darkness. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You jolted, then suppressed your sigh. “Have not.”

“Yes, you have, and everyone knows it, and you’re not very subtle,” Zoro said, sounding almost bored as he rattled off the words. “Why.”

“I haven’t—”

“Don’t.”

You ran your tongue along your teeth, sucking at the valleys between them in annoyance. “It’s not important.”

Zoro paused before speaking, like he was mulling over asking the question. “Did I do something?”

“What? No.” You shook your head, despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to see. The sound did well enough to indicate the action to him, though—he scoffed, a low murmur from his chest that buzzed through your nerves. “I don’t want to talk about this. You’re giving the rest of the crew what they want.”

“They definitely did not lock you in here to talk about why you’re avoiding me,” Zoro muttered. Now it was your turn to scoff, because if only he knew. “Are you sure I didn’t do anything?"

“Positive. It’s all me.”

“Okay, so why?” Zoro prompted. You swallowed hard, trying to dodge around the subject. “Are you sure—”

“Please just stop talking,” you said, one hand reaching out to grip his arm as if the physical contact would make him shut up. There was a stagnant moment of silence, your breath catching as your brain caught up to your body. Your hand was on Zoro’s arm. Your hand was on Zoro’s bicep, and you were in his bed.

You cleared your throat, a panicked choke bursting from your lungs. “Um.” Your eyes skittered sideways, and then you finally turned on your side to stare at him. To stare at where your hand was still clutched around his arm.

You could just barely make out the angle of his jaw in the darkness, but you could see it was clenched, the vein along his neck protruding just slightly. Hastily, you removed your hand, the skin of your fingers tingling like you could still feel him underneath the tips. “Sorry. Why—why are you so certain that you did something for me to avoid you?”

There were a few moments of silence that ticked by, nothing but the rock of the ship interrupting it. Finally, Zoro spoke. “Because the reason they locked you in my room is because—”

“What? The reason they locked me in your room is because of me,” you said. Zoro finally moved from his position, head tilting to face yours so you were eye-to-eye. You swallowed. “Nami, um—Nami specifically forced me in here so I would… talk to you.”

There was a question evident in Zoro’s voice. “About?”

Your lips parted, and then closed again. “Um.”

“We can just sleep, if you want,” Zoro muttered.

“What if they don’t let us out in the morning because we haven’t talked, though?” you hissed. Zoro let out a low laugh.

“You realize you’re giving them exactly what they want.”

“So you’d be more comfortable if we just… fell asleep?” you asked. Zoro shrugged. Since you weren’t exactly averse to the idea of not confessing, you nodded in agreement, heart beating a million miles a second. “Okay. Fine by me.”

You settled back into your pillow, but soon came to realize that, due to the fluttering butterflies in your stomach and the fact you were very aware of the man of your affections being barely a foot to your right, you could not sleep. Evidently Zoro felt the same way, because he kept shifting around under the blankets—your hands brushed against each other a few times before he jolted away like you’d burnt him.

“Sorry,” you muttered. Zoro didn’t say anything in response. Somewhere in the back of your head, you could hear Nami hissing at you—I didn’t shove you in a room with Mr. Prince Charming just for you to not take advantage of the opportunity. You tried to get her out of your brain—it was a bad idea all around—but the words kept reverberating around in your mind until you found yourself suddenly speaking. “Zoro?”

“Hm?”

“Nami stuck me in here so I would tell you that, um—”

“You don’t have to say it,” Zoro murmured, and you shivered, his voice sounding suddenly closer. You squirmed, your hand brushing against Zoro’s again, except this time it took him a delayed moment to drift away. He had gotten closer—or maybe that was you, instinctually leaning towards the dip in the middle of the bed when you’d been lost in thought.

“The reason they locked me in here with you is so I would tell you about my feelings towards you,” you blurted, the words slurring together, consonants and syllables all in one rush. “Because I have them. Feelings, I mean.”

Zoro’s voice was very low when he spoke. “Excuse me?”

You sat straight up, the blankets previously nestled around your chin falling to your waist. “I have feelings for you and that’s why everyone locked me in here.”

“I—” Zoro coughed, and then coughed again, ridding his throat of whatever was preventing him from making full sentences. He slowly sat up, and you stared down at the blankets in your lap as you saw him rise to his full height beside you. And oh, this was it. He was about to reject you in the most excruciating, offhand manner that would probably leave you at the bottom of a barrel of rum. “That’s not possible.”

“Why is that—” you decided to shut up instead of finishing your sentence, allowing him to speak instead. There was a soft burning starting at your skin, all red hot, and your brain buzzed, regret filling up your lungs and making it hard to breathe.

Zoro didn’t say anything, but you heard his hand before you felt it. It slid across the bedsheets before finally resting beside yours, fingertips grazing against your knuckles. “Zoro?” you whispered.

“The reason they locked you in here with me is so I would tell you about my feelings towards you,” Zoro said blankly. You blinked. It took you a moment to realize that he wasn’t just quoting you—that he hadn’t switched the pronouns accordingly. Your heart dropped.

Your voice was very faint when you spoke. “What?”

“I like you,” Zoro said carefully. Languidly, the words dripping off his tongue all saccharine-sweet like molasses, or honey. You shivered, your hand accidentally knocking against his, and he took the opportunity to draw it in closer, fingers pushing up your palm, just a hair’s breadth away from interlacing with yours. “Luffy unfortunately found out. He doesn’t know how to keep a secret and told the rest of the crew.”

You gaped at him. “I like you,” you said, dumbfounded. You could feel yourself trembling, fingers sliding against Zoro’s hand with every shake. “Nami yanked it out of me. Which is why I’ve been avoiding you for the past week.”

“I thought you were avoiding me because you found out I liked you,” Zoro muttered. His fingertips brushed against the pads of your hand, and you swallowed, mouth all dry. “So.”

You tentatively lifted your gaze, finding Zoro’s eyes even amidst the darkness. They were shining, a slight glint from the moon coming in through the window reflecting along the shadows of his face. Carefully, his hand slid fully into yours, fingers lacing together, and it was like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place.

Zoro slid back down onto his back, tugging you along with him. You settled back on your pillow, using your other hand to pull the blankets back over your chest. For a full stagnant minute the two of you lay there, hands intertwined in the space between.

You were the one who made the first move, then, thumb running up and down the length of his index finger. Zoro ran with the action, tugging your hand just slightly until you were leaning into the dip of the mattress, gravity pulling you closer to his body.

He lifted your entwined hands, tugging you towards him until your back was pressed right to his chest. Then he settled your arms back down again, the back of his palm resting against your belly.

You swallowed hard, able to hear the sound of your throat in the utter silence. Zoro exhaled, his breath softly brushing against your neck. “Good night,” you whispered.

Zoro pressed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck, a ghost of something that left tingles fluttering down your spine, the drunken butterflies in your stomach swaying at the action. “Good night,” he murmured, and your breath caught.

He was warm, oh so warm, like a campfire with licks of flame that softened your hands in the dead of night. And even though you wanted to speak up, question when he’d started liking you, if he was lying or not—you were content to stay here in his arms and drift off to sleep.

So you did, settling back into his embrace with your head spinning and senses murmuring, all dizzy like you were caught in a dream. Eventually, your tiredness got the better of you, and you felt your senses fading as the world around you darkened to black.

The two of you jolted awake to the knocking and the very unpleasant hum of Nami’s voice. “Rise and shine!” she called through the door, and you blinked, bleary eyes adjusting to the light as you suppressed your yawn.

Zoro jolted up beside you, practically giving you whiplash as his arm was still comfortably around your waist. Your fingers tingled, and you realized that you’d fallen asleep with your hands laced together.

“Nami,” you grumbled, about to rise out of bed before Zoro stopped you. You turned towards him in question, only to stop short as you registered the look in his eyes. His gaze was deep, piercing; those butterflies rose up again in your stomach, apparently awake after they’d passed out from their drunken stupor. You swallowed. “Hi?”

“Hey,” he murmured. “They locked you in my room.”

“I’m going to knock Nami over the head with a rowboat oar,” you said blandly, eyes flickering towards the door, which Nami was still pounding on. You vaguely heard shuffling sounds, like the crew were working to move the barrels they’d stuck in front of the door to free you from your prison. “You can have the rest of them, if you want.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” Zoro agreed. “But first…”

“First?” you prompted.

Zoro brought your hands—still intertwined—to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss along your knuckles. “Good morning,” he said, voice low and awkward, like he wasn’t used to letting the words out of his mouth. He let your hands drift to his lap, leaning forward until his forehead brushed against yours.

A faint sigh escaped your lips when he finally kissed you. It wasn’t rough or hard; it was a soft press, like your hands had been just a few hours ago. There was a degree of finality to it; a held-in breath that’d exhaled from your lungs, one you hadn’t realized was building up that much pressure until you finally let it all go.

The door flung open, and you jolted away, but Zoro tilted your head back towards him before you could. At the mouth of the room, Luffy had started screaming. “Aww,” Nami cooed. Behind her, Usopp and Sanji were gripping onto each other like they were watching a particularly engaging fight.

A steady blush rose along your cheeks, but Zoro was absolutely shameless, the hand not held in yours raising up to give them the finger. “Get out of my room.”

“Told you it’d be okay,” Nami sing-songed, and then you really did break away from Zoro, picking up the object nearest to you and barrelling towards her. She shrieked, dodging out of the doorway as Zoro laughed from behind you.

“Wait!” she stopped you from whacking your pillow against her head, raising up her arms in defense. “I was right. I saw you two—”

“Nami,” you started, dangerously low. “You locked me in his room.”

“Yeah, to help you!” she cried defensively, slowly taking backwards steps as you gained on her. “Come on. We can talk about this.”

“Good luck,” Zoro called out from behind you—you turned around, catching his gaze. He had gotten up, leaning against the doorway and watching you with a sparkle of fondness in his eye. “You’ll need it.”

You blew him a kiss, ignoring the long groan it pulled out of Luffy from beside Zoro in the hallway. And then you turned around. Nami had darted off, taking the time you’d been distracted to run off. “Oh no you don’t!” you yelled, and then lunged after her with Zoro laughing all the while.

Maybe it hadn’t been such a bad thing, you thought. But you were still going to beat Nami’s ass.

#opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #reader insert #x reader #one piece live action #one piece netflix #opla #opla zoro x reader #opla fanfiction #opla fanfic #kiki writes!

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marigoldenblooms · 6 months

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That's a Wrap - One Shot

Pairing: Director!Natasha x Fem!Actor!Reader x Actor!Wanda (MINORS DNI - 18+)

Summary: You and Wanda can’t seem to get this scene right. With your director’s help, you manage.

MINORS DNI - 18+

Tags: Is Y/N in the room with us right now (They aren’t), Dom!Natasha, Switch!Wanda, Bottom!Reader. Dub-con, power dynamic (Director/Actor), voyeurism, degradation, praise, semi-public sex, semi-orgasm denial, light edging, objectification, oral (W receiving), fingering (R receiving), strap-on use(R receiving), some pet names (baby, sweetheart, darling, ma’am, Tasha(For N), Wan/Wands(For W), Mommy(For W, used loosely)), Nat calls her strap her dick, semi-previous established relationship? Porn with plot, clothed sex, sextape, light aftercare, fluff at the end.

A/N: Welcome to the first issue of Smut Saturdays! Want to really create some good shit in this genre, so I'm posting at least one spicy fic every Saturday (if I can help it)! This came to me in a vision (called the five minutes before my math class)- After my last smut fic did well (An Important Lesson, Prof!Wanda x Reader, which you can read here), I thought I’d do some WandaNat practice! Not proofread, written in the span of an evening. This is a crime against intimacy coordinators, I’m so sorry. Asides over. Natasha wears a strap to her films and she can dick me down with it, please and thank you!

Word Count: 2.4k - Read Length: 8 minutes, 49 seconds.

~~~

It was never fun when the producers came by.

They’d always arrive in droves of two or three, never the top dog- as if Natasha’s ‘avant-garde chick flick’, as they called it, wasn’t worth their time. They certainly treated it as much. Today was the worst day for them to arrive, in pressed jackets and always on a phone call, because today you were filming the sex scene. It was more of a ‘romance’ scene, with alluring cinematography and enough passion to make your eyes fall out, yet you hadn’t even gotten to remove any clothes from your beautiful costar- Wanda. You knew she was incredible, her previous films as a fem fatale showing her dominant streak, however the spark couldn’t burn when interruptions from the suits kept happening. You weren’t on a porn set, and yet sometimes you wish you were. Might’ve been faster, or at least more fun.

“From the top,” A groveled voice muttered, Natasha’s steely gaze breaking into your skull- though a part of you wished she’d break your back. The redhead had always been an inspiration, one of the leading reasons for your participation in her project, besides her being so fine. But now, she looked pissed, worn down by hours of appeasing the producer’s half-baked suggestions and guarding you and Wanda from their prying eyes. “Yes Ma’am,” you replied, earning a slight chuckle from your director, the twinkle in her eye not lost on you- she was on her last legs, but it was yours and Wanda’s compliance that kept her going.

You’d return to your blocking, centered in the middle of your ‘apartment bedroom’, with Wanda’s hand placed gently on your waist. Your roles were lovers, reuniting after a long day of hardship, slowing down after it all. You’d stare up at her, the mild exasperation in your expression making her smile. She’d send a wink down to you, muttering something about being ‘bored too’, but ‘not hating kissing you again’, or the like. She’d invited you out to coffee tonight, and especially after a day like this, you’d take it. Perhaps you’d even forget the paparazzi and really kiss her as you’d been wanting to do this whole shoot. Throw a bone to the fanfiction writers and make their canon comply with reality. Maybe. It was Natasha’s words which startled you from your thoughts, a look of tenderness overcoming your face as you’d sink into your character, “Action!”

Within an instant, Wanda hiked her hands under the hem of your shirt, eyes darting down to your face. Her palms were warm against you, smooth against your soft skin, as your head rested gently on her shoulder. She’d tug at the fabric- and you’d send her a quick nod, smiling as you’d lean up to capture her lips in yours-

“Well that’s not very marketable!” A producer would crow, scoffing with both his hands outstretched towards the two of you. You’d freeze, feeling all of the passion drain out from the scene, no more than a shell of itself. His bald head wasn’t very marketable, looking like a morally dubious Mr. Clean- and yet you didn’t comment on it. He’d look at Natasha, the woman pinching the bridge of her nose with a stern sigh, and you gulped. Oh, shit. She was going to lose it. “Can’t you get their clothes off faster? Our focus groups won’t wait around for-”

“Fucking Christ, get- out!” Natasha shouted, a growl in her tone bringing heat to your face. She scowled, roaring to the surrounding suits, “Leave, get off my set- it’s my fucking turn to direct them.” Her hands would fan away their deer-in-headlights looks, ushering them out before locking the door. Her fiery gaze would bore into you then, jaw locked as her heels would click towards you and Wanda, many feet apart.

The two shared a knowing nod- And before you could speak, your director grabbed Wanda by her shirt collar and pulled her into a bruising kiss. Your jaw would drop as the brunette’s eyes widened, fluttering shut as Wanda moaned into the embrace- Natasha’s hands planted firmly on her tits. She’d squeeze them, earning a gasp from Wanda, your costar’s head swung back as Natasha swiped her thumbs across her nipples. Your director’s gaze would strike yours, and you understood why Wanda’s submission was so quick. You shuddered at the redhead’s gleaming smirk, her voice a husked whisper, “Get those clothes off and get on the bed for me, baby. Now.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Your reply was instant, Natasha’s grin only widening as you’d shed your layers, kneeling on the mattress’s soft sheets. They were cold, goosebumps settling up your spine yet you wouldn’t move, eyes trained obediently on Natasha. You were so perfect for her.

Natasha’s mouth would return to Wanda’s, pressing her into the faux wall that had outlined the bedroom. Her hand would splay against Wanda’s stomach, and you saw how she hiked up the shirt there, continuing to palm her tits while unclasping Wanda’s bra with the other. She’d pepper kisses across the brunette’s neck, sucking hickeys the lower she’d go.

They’d part only so Wanda’s top could come completely off, your director keeping a claiming touch on Wanda’s hip as she’d look back at you over her shoulder. Her hair was wild, mused from Wanda’s hands slung loosely around her shoulders while her expression remained flushed, dark eyes darting down to the slick that pooled between your legs. Wanda’s voice would ring to you, almost reverent as her hips would stutter against Natasha’s, “She’s fucking drooling for us, Tasha..”

The redhead would bite back a smirk as she’d watch you twitch. You ached to touch them, yourself, anything- your hands already balled into fists on your thighs, legs rubbing together, desperate for friction. But neither had given the command, and you had an inkling from their hungry looks that they wanted you needy, right where they had you. Natasha’s rasp came second, “Then show her what I taught you.”

Wanda would reach you first, discarding the rest of her clothes in the process. Her hands trailed warm touches up your legs and to your chest, digging into your soft flesh as her lips would meet yours. It was explosive, sweet and tender yet with a ferocity that claimed you quickly, heating up your skin as her knee would slot between your thighs. You’d feel Natasha’s calloused fingers on the small of your back, the sinking of her weight in the mattress behind you, and her tone husked in your ear, “Stretch her out for me, Wan- like we practiced.” Your director’s words sent a buzz to your core, cunt grinding mercilessly into the sheets below as Wanda’s hand would trail there, dragging two fingers along your folds before arcing dazzling circles around your clit.

You’d eagerly press your hips into her touch, moaning lowly as she’d chuckle, “So wet for me, sweetheart…bet I can just slip right in.” She’d coax her fingers inside, your pussy walls taking her gladly as Wanda curled her digits against that spongy spot. Your back would arch, head growing fuzzy as you’d feel your slick drip down her hand. Her thumb would press into your clit as you’d buck your hips against her, cursing a quick “Fuck-” which was quickly swallowed up by Wanda’s mouth. She’d bite your lip, dragging it with her teeth as she’d settle into her rhythm, spare hand palming your tits with a rougher grasp, “Been waiting for this, haven’t you sweetheart- pretty whore, just for us.”

“Mhm, good girl just wants to be fucked, don’t you?” Natasha would grit, and you could see her stroking something behind your back. She’d unzipped her slacks- her strap heavy in her hand, glistening with the spit she’d gathered in her palm. Natasha bucked her hips against her hold, cursing as the cock’s base would rub against her clit. She looked incredible, sweat across her brow as her hand would clench around the toy, like she could feel it. “Keep going, Wands- want her perfect for my dick.”

Natasha would pant, breathing ragged as her hand moved in time with Wanda’s fingers- curling into you almost torturously, feeling your cunt clench around her. The brunette’s kiss would claim you again, moaning into her warmth as her thumb would circle your clit. She’d sigh almost lovingly, fondness overtaking her expression as your head found the crook of her neck, “She’s already perfect, Tasha-” She’d coo, although her hand wouldn’t stop, gasping at the squelching sound of her fingers up your cunt, “This pussy was made for us, darling.”

Their words and touch brought you so close, yet Wanda’s hands slowed down when she felt your legs quiver or your breathing seize up, never giving you what you needed. You’d squirm against Wanda, begging for more, a lingering touch, anything- “Please, Wan- I‘m so close,” You whined, earning a tut from your costar. She’d devour your pleas, lost to time as her mouth would reach yours, softer than before. You felt her sympathetic smile against you as she’d shake her head, locking eyes with Natasha’s heavy stare, “Not yet, sweetheart..It’s not my turn anymore.”

The redhead groaned when Wanda slid her fingers out of you, her fingers shimmering with your arousal. Your walls fluttered around nothing, aching for anyone’s touch as you felt Natasha’s rugged grasp on your hips, pulling you up and back so your pelvis was against hers. The strap had warmed in her hand, dragging between your legs. You were dripping for her, soft sparks of pleasure seizing you as her tip would brush against your clit. Her voice would thunder through you, almost delirious with her own need, “Fucking finally..want this pussy all to myself…”

Wanda would chuckle at that, your director kneading at your hips as Wanda’s thighs settled in front of your mouth, your arms propping yourself just above her soaked cunt. “We promised to share, Tasha..” She’d croon, face flushed and touch softer than Natasha’s as she’d cradle your face in her palms, “Such a pretty girl..are you ready for your reward, darling?” You nodded, a flurry of sensation hitting you all at once- Natasha’s strap sinking into you as the redhead would push your shoulder blades down, pressing your face between Wanda’s legs.

The stretch was incredible, the woman behind you vicious as she’d drive her dick into you, bottoming out as your mouth would be smothered against Wanda’s cunt. Each thrust would drive Wanda crazy, your gasps and whimpers vibrating right into her core, especially as you’d flat your tongue against her clit, suckling on the sensitive nub. Her thighs would threaten to shut on you, her stretched words lost in your pussydrunk haze, “Yes, like that sweetheart- such a good girl..-” Natasha would rock her hips into yours, pace bruising as she’d pull your thighs flush to hers. You’d hear her muffled curses as she’d bottom out again, sighing as if she could feel you clench around her. “Baby..fuck, so perfect for us…” Wanda’s hands would thread into your hair, anchoring her hold on you as she’d press your face further into her cunt.

The sight would echo a curse from Natasha’s mouth, her hips growing a little more erratic, “Fucking christ, she’s our perfect little whore, aren’t you baby-” You’d try to nod, moaning as Natasha’s hand would press further into your back, keeping you from moving an inch, “Don’t even think, baby- just fucking take it, fuck-”

Time would seem to slow, your brain fuzzing into blissful static as you’d feel Wanda’s thighs tremor around your head, her grip tightening as she’d see your body tremble in Natasha’s touch. “Come with me, sweetheart- be a good girl and come for Mommy.” Her saccharine words spurred you into a blinding release, your tongue working Wanda through her orgasm as your body quaked with your own. You’d feel Natasha follow shortly thereafter, cursing aloud as she’d pull herself out of you, watching as you’d clench around nothing. Her hands would immediately find your waist, bringing you gently up to kneel with your back against her clothed front.

Panting, your arms would shake as you’d catch your breath, leaning up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. You could feel both women’s eyes on you as you’d suckle on your fingers, cleaning up with an exaggerated moan, looking towards Wanda as you’d pop your hand out of your mouth, your words almost dreamy, “Mmm, so good, Wan..” You’d giggle as Wanda’s face would alight in blush, although the clink of metal and fabric drove you away from your teasing.

Natasha’s hands would be rushed as she’d pull her pants and harness down, eyes heavy with a lust that made you shudder, “Switch with me, Wands-” She’d grit, thrusting the strap in her general direction before settling calloused palms on your still quivering thighs, her gaze boring into yours, “It’s my turn for her mouth.”

Wanda’s smirk was immediate, sending you another sly wink, “Gladly.”

------------------------------------------

Unbeknownst to the three of you, the cameras had never stopped rolling. That film would never be seen by the public, kept hidden once you left the building. Not to say it couldn't be enjoyed by you three, though.

Natasha and Wanda took you out to coffee afterwards as the brunette had promised. They explained their prior agreement to ‘test the waters’ with you, Wanda working with Natasha on a plan to woo you both in and out of character. The date went well, although with much less lingering glances and more almost-fucking in the back of Wanda’s car afterwards. It was there that the public and paparazzi learned of your relationship, although their camera flash thankfully stopped any romance before it got good. You weren’t on a porn set, after all- and Wanda kept your half-nude form hidden while Natasha cursed out the press. All in a day’s work.

Unfortunately, the day’s work began anew the next day. Filming the romance scene was no difficult measure now, but Natasha’s grin and Wanda’s wandering hands blurred the lines of professionalism. The film crew couldn’t care less, a few of them- such as Kate, a script supervisor- mentioned how they knew it would happen eventually (and won a bet with Peter, who said it’d take until the award show for you three to get together).

However, once you three escaped into Natasha’s office for some ‘paperwork’ as she’d called it, it didn’t matter. They were yours, and that was enough. ~~~

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ghostfacd · 9 months

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SHE WAS LIKE A SHOT OF EPRESSO

pairing. tom blyth x actress!fem!reader (mentions of other actors x fem!reader platonically)

summary. in which you are the epitome of sunshine and radiance within your co stars OR all the times your co stars have talked interviewers’ ears off about you

installment of this au | read for context!

Time 1: Tom Blyth

“How’s Y/N as a cast mate?”

That question shouldn’t make Tom Blyth smile that wide — but he does — because he’s so utterly and unconditionally inlove with you.

“Oh gosh, I wouldn’t even know where to start,” Tom begins. “As her boyfriend, I think I’m being pretty biased when I say this, but Y/N Avocot as a cast mate has honestly been the best experience of my life. There has not been a day where she doesn’t make me laugh so hard that my ribs start hurting, and there hasn’t been a day where she hasn’t made me smile.” He pauses for a moment, pondering the next words to say.

“Y/N’s just that type of person, you know? She’s like the warm sunlight that engulfs you every morning you open your curtains, she’s like that newly brewed coffee that helps hydrate and bring you back to life. She’s everything.” And he says this in such a loving manner that the interviewer practically awes, the cameraman zooming the camera to show Tom’s dilated pupil.

“Your pupils are dilated!” The interviewer mentions, laughing as she points towards his eyes.

“Oxytocin is a warm hormone that’s released when you talk about someone you love,” Tom shrugs. “All my friends say my pupils dilate when I’m near Y/N, that’s just the effect she has on people.”

“Well there it is folks! Tom Blyth is truly inlove with Y/N Avocot!”

Time 2: Sean Kaufman and Lola Tung

It was an interview discussing the new season of The Summer I Turned Pretty, and it consisted of Sean and Lola who’s schedules were the only ones that were open that day.

“Guys! We’re so happy to have you today,” the interviewer starts.

“Why thank you,” Lola smiles brightly into the camera, smoothing out her dress.

“So obviously, this season is very important to the plot, it contains so much new exciting storylines including Sean’s character, Steven Conklin, and Y/N’s character, Ella!”

“Yes,” Sean laughs, his eyes crinkling. “It was very fun filming the scenes with Y/N, she’s like that little rush of happiness that you just wanna keep inside a jar.”

“Actually!” Lola speaks up, crossing one leg over the other as she leans forward to the interviewer. “Now that Sean’s mentioning it, Y/N really is a rush of happiness. God, everyday on set, I always think ‘I’m gonna probably have to say my lines over a thousand times and be tired by the time I’m done’ but Y/N comes right in, and she’s always making funny faces behind the director which just fills my heart with joy and it’s those little moments that make acting really worth it you know? Like even though I’m dying re filming the same scene over and over again — I know that Y/N’s always going to cheer me up by the end of it.”

“Wow,” the interviewer laughs. “I haven’t even asked you guys about Y/N yet but she seems to be very loved by the crew.”

“Oh yeah,” Sean nods. “Everyone filming loves her. I mean, how could you not?”

And the interviewer thinks the same question, because after interviewing Tom Blyth, she really believes that you really cannot not love Y/N Avocot.

Time 3: Timothee Chalamet

“Timo!” The interviewer greets Timothee excitedly, moving the chair so he could sit.

“Jacob! My favorite interviewer,” and maybe Timothee’s lying, because he’s seen about a million interviewers by now, but it makes Jacob smile, not so much hating his job anymore.

“Your new movie, Miracles in Love, can you tell me more about that?”

“Yes,” Timothee takes a deep breath. “It’s about a boy and girl in their early twenties figuring out what they wanna be in life. My character, Louie Marcel, falls inlove with my co star — Y/N’s character — Maeve Jones after they bump into each other at the bar and talk about how depressing their lives are. It’s pretty funny, y’know. How easy it was to film with Y/N, in fact, it came all naturally.” Timothee pauses, a small smile playing on his lips.

“When you say naturally, what exactly do you mean by that?”

“Oh you know Jacob,” Timothee grins. “It’s easy to fall inlove with Y/N Avocot. She’s a remarkable actress, and everything that I filmed with her feels so real that it feels like I’m really Louie and I’m really falling inlove with a girl named Maeve at the local bar near my university.”

“Oh wow,” Jacob, the interviewer, can’t help but gush at Timothee’s endearing statement. “You must be very good friends.”

“Us? Of course!” He laughs as if it was one of the funniest statements on earth. “I’m really good friends with her boyfriend too, Tom. They’re honestly the sweetest couple, don’t know if I’m inlove with him or her. Maybe both,” he jokes.

bellyapologist oh to be yn avocot and be so loved by her cast mates that they’re smiling each time they talk about her

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user1 literally like how do you not cry when you’re being called a literal rush of happiness

user2 lola and sean being so excited to talk about her even though the interviewer didn’t start the interview yet 😭

user3 shows that yn is rly a good person

timotheesgf YN AVOCOT LET ME BE YOU PLEASEEEE LOOK AT HOW TIMOTHEE TALKS ABT HER GOD LIFE IS NOT FAIR

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user4 “it’s easy to fall inlove with yn avocot” FUCKKKKK

user5 “everything I filmed with her feels so real” oh tom and kylie are punching the air rn

user9 she must’ve saved a planet in her past life cause..

user10 same energy as “she was like a shot of espresso” 😭😭😭😔😔😔

#Coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosbas #the hunger games x reader #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet

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neopuppy · 9 months

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Our Sick Story, Thus Far (M)

Teddy Bear—> (yes you have to read this first)

pairing. Jeno x female reader x Haechan x ?

genre. college AU, pwp, dark fic, angst, M/F

wc. 29k

warning. profanity, bullying, forced relationship, cheating, dr*g use mentioned, blackmailing, coercion, possessive/obsessive behavior, lies deceit manipulation etc, is anyone in this story actually a good person??(the answer: no), stockholm vibes. smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

now playing. Our Sick Story(Thus Far)//Atreyu

a/n. it’s been a long time coming and I hope the wait was worth it for this story that I had no business writing to begin with😅

dedicated to the messages I received letting me know Teddy Bear made them wanna throw up. you are going to love this one! and @notncdeeh for consistently bothering me to finish writing this💚

smut warnings. dubcon/noncon elements(DO NOT read if that makes you uncomfortable. thanks.), Jeno refers to y/n as ‘Teddy’ often, no teddy plush shall be spared, dacryphyilia, humiliation, degradation/praise, oral, anal, rimming, finger sucking, sub/dom dynamics, switching, hair pulling, slapping, protected and unprotected sex, breeding, impreg kink/forced pregnancy, cock warming, hidden camera use, choking, mind break, surprise character smut(👀).

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･

Art class had taught you more than expected when you chose the extra curriculum for ‘stress relief’ as the school’s counselor put it, emphasizing how fast you will burn out if you don’t allow yourself one light work subject.

‘Paint me something pretty today.’ Jeno smirked near the entrance, stepping backward to keep his gaze on yours until he could no longer see you from the hallway.

Blue, sky blue.

Jeno’s favorite color is sky blue, which he mentioned one day when grabbing you after class. The only one of your courses he’d been unable to transfer into because it’d interfere with his degree.

‘It’s a shame we can’t be together all day.’ Jeno traced a faded spot along the column of your throat while you studied color theory. A mixture of blue and yellow bruises speckled with red bits of gnawed skin.

Art class has taught you many things, one being- you aren’t very artistic, and that much like the blue sky had turned darker earlier these days, so had your mind.

Jeno rained trickles of blues into your favorite colors, he muddied a bright day, stained pools of misery around your world.

Sky blue is an ugly color, you think, because even as he smiled with an arm slung over your shoulders walking through the first drops of November rain; Jeno robbed hues of yellow and gold from the sun. He gathered red from the last days of summer heat and stormed through your life on a cloud tainting everything a miserable shade of black.

Art class had really become your everyday sanctuary, a time away from him. Time to pretend that Jeno had never invaded your days.

A time to daydream from aw you hid behind a canvas, imagine ‘what if’, and admire a student from across too focused on his work to spare you a glance.

and when Jeno would arrive ready to prance you through the halls as his play thing, his little toy, you couldn’t help but wonder..

In another life you could have fallen for Jeno. You could have loved him, developed a healthy relationship, formed fond memories to reflect upon together in the future.

But in this life, you hate him.

Hate may be a strong word, but as you sit across from the bane of your existence, you know one thing is certain.

You hate Jeno Lee.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･

Perhaps it is to your detriment that Jeno has made you feel nothing, unless numbness can be classified as an emotion.

By the round of omnipresent gasps and whispers that reach your ears each time you enter a room with him, it’s hard to not fixate on the way his presence alone stirs the first rumble of what can only be classified as a concrete shattering earthquake. Maybe that’s the problem, because even when Jeno’s arms are wrapped around your waist from behind, leading you through the cafeteria to sit at a table alone with eyes of vultures ready to pick your flesh apart inch by inch; you cannot find it in yourself to care. Not anymore, not even close, not even a little.

“I like it when you wear your hair down.” Jeno whispers, fixing your loose locks to one side. “It’s really cute how you think this is enough to cover yourself and hide from me.”

Bony fingers trace patterns of sadness atop the marks he’s drawn along your throat. “Pretty.”

Cute. Pretty. Meaningless compliments, because how could they hold any meaning pouring from a soul filled with nothing but darkness.

Even as you sit pressed to his side in the back of the library, you feel sick, scribbling a mental note to wear your hair up more often. His compliments replay like a broken record, scratching the way up your thigh to a cut between the juncture of your knee. Your teeth clench as you claw your jagged nails up your inner thigh, attempting to make the mental gash real just to feel something. Dig the wound deeper, much like Jeno’s sweet words strike similar to the tip of a blunt tip knife; aimed recklessly at your soul slicing through inch by inch. Cutting you open until your blood has been drained of all life.

His eyebrows furrow, gaze following along to your hand and slapping your wrist away. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I need to use the restroom.”

“Great!” Jeno pipes up, grabbing your bag. “So do I.”

“Jeno..”

Standing up, he smiles expectantly, lip quirked to one side daring you to speak out loud against him. It’s useless, you know better by now.

“Can we make it fast this time? The bell will ring soon..” you mumble quietly, walking alongside him toward the exit.

“Worried you’ll miss your precious little painting class?” Jeno nudges you toward the mens bathroom, grabbing a hold around your elbow as he steps in first. “EMPTY OUT!” He roars, followed by an urgent shuffle and toilet flushing as one of the new Freshmen you recognize scuttles out with his head ducked, toilet paper attached to the back of his sneaker.

Jeno laughs breathily, entertained by the younger's fearful exit. The fear that he can instill in anyone easily with the snap of his fingers, or a mere glance. Turning toward you, he smiles, nodding to one of the stalls. “All yours.”

“That wasn’t necessary..” you say quietly, moving past him to find the cleanest stall available, nose scrunched in disgust as you settle on one and turn to shut the door. “Shit.” You startle jumping back, clutching at your chest.

Jeno latches onto the stalls frame, peering down at you. “No need to close the door Teddy, it’s only me.”

“Jeno, please..”

“You know I hate it when you do that.” Jeno swings his body back and forth, head shaking side to side slowly. “You said you need to use the bathroom?”

Locking your eyes to the floor, you’re at least thankful for choosing a skirt to wear today, lifting, sliding your underwear to your knees as you squat down and settle with your skirt fanned out over your thighs.

Jeno turns to laugh, rolling his eyes. “The way you still act so shy, like you’re ashamed..”

As if he hasn’t defiled you and had his way with you in every which way he prefers. “Cute.” Jeno’s gaze traces up from your sneakers to where your knees clench together, running his tongue under the inside of his lip. “Done?”

Scooting closer, his arms drop down to his sides, shoulders appearing more broad from where he looms above you. “And look at that, with time to spare still.”

Jeno grips around your upper arm, hoisting you up to your feet, panicked as you’d just begun to reach for the roll of toilet paper. “What’re yo—stop!”

Ignoring you, he flips you around to press your back against the stall, licking across his lips akin to a rabid animal. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll clean you up.”

He drops to his knees, bunching your skirt up to your waist as he perches one of your legs upon his shoulder, face burying between your thighs.

“Jeno, don’t! That’s too—“

The drag of his tongue has you choking, squirming back to get away as heat fills your cheeks, completely mortified by the sweep of his tongue running up and down. “N-no!”

Jeno groans, face shaking side to side as he makes sure to cover each inch of the skin between your thighs, tongue greedily running rampant between your folds. “That’s so disgusting.” You cry, pushing at his head, nails dug into his scalp

Jeno rushes back with a hiss, eyes snapping open wildly as he apprehends your wrists and clutches around your forearms roughly, returning the feeling with his short filed nails. “Funny how you only shut up at the worst times.” Overpowered, he pulls on your arms to launch himself back up, twisting them around your back painfully to press you to the stall chest first. “So difficult.”

Returning to his knees, he flips your skirt back up, keeping your wrists tethered with one hand. “Thought you wanted to get to class on time?” Jeno’s nose drags between your bottom, sucking in a deep inhale. “Fuck.”

He groans, biting down on the cleft of your ass hard enough to leave marks behind. A new one to join the rest that he makes sure to add daily. “Nothing about this is disgusting.” Cupping one of your buttcheeks, he bounces the meaty flesh against his face, eyes rolling up as his nose dips against your tight ring of muscle.

“Not there!” You wheeze, scrabbling to get away by uselessly scratching down the wall.

“You’ll get used to it.” He rumbles against your core, lips circling your entrance with a lewd slurp; not missing a drop of your arousal beginning to drip out. “Ridiculous how good you taste.”

Clapping your ass against his cheek without pause, Jeno’s neck bends back more, jaw opening wide to swipe his tongue from your clit to your hole, growling between short staggered breaths. Each drag of his nose slowly circling your rim humiliates you worse, biting down to keep in your complaints the more he goes for it. Splaying out his palm, he spreads your ass completely open, unveiling the taut ring of muscle clenching helplessly.

Jeno kisses at the backs of his teeth, drawing in a sharp breath as his index finger extends to tap and tease your rim, cheek dimpling to one side the more you fail to pull away. “You’ll let me fuck you here next, yeah?” He laughs, pushing your trapped fist into your lower back to form a deep arch. “Fill up all your holes, is that what you want?”

“N-no..” You grimace, face pressed to the chill bathroom stall. “Please, hurry, please.”

His tongue clicks obnoxiously, blowing on your rim before setting down a searing kiss, tongue smoothing around in a circle. “Why should I hurry? I don’t even get to fuck you.” He sneers, eyeing the time on his wrist.

“Later,” you pipe up fast, rutting back against his face to convince him. “After school, we can.. do that..”

His eyebrows shoot high, peering up in surprise. “Oh yeah? I’ll hold you to that, Teddy.” He bites down on your buttcheek again for good measure, nipping the skin roughly. “Now be good, and hold yourself open if you want to make it on time.” His grip on your wrist loosens, shaking off the sting left behind only for a second before he slaps your palms down on your butt and adjusts your position to expose both your holes. “That’s it.”

Thick arms circle around your thighs, biceps flexing to keep a snug grip on you as his hot tongue returns to your center and glides between your folds, inching lower until his lips can wrap around your clit.

“Uhhnnghhh..” you jolt, firmly tucking in your mouth to suppress a moan from soaring out.

Jeno’s hands swipe up the front of your thighs, gliding his mouth and nose from your wet hole to your clit with teasing firm flicks of his tongue; three of his digits find your bundle of nerves right as his mouth latches back around your entrance. His tongue buries deep, lifting your toes to curl up off the floor, knocking your forehead against the wall as you fight to keep in a desperate cry.

He’s relentless, tongue expertly waving against your insides, the muscle strong and thick. “Ugh!” A whine breaks through your sealed lips, smacking the stall as he taps your clit repeatedly, urging you to break down and squeeze your release around his tongue.

Jeno draws out, mouth a mess of shiny wet, panting heavily. “Come on, give me what I want.” He slaps your clit roughly, spitting at your entrance before plunging in, nosing at your rim harshly as he struggles to breathe out of his nostrils. He grumbles between choked breaths, tongue working in and out of your hole with precise thrusts. Each rub to you rim, stroke against your clit, and incessant roll of his tongue inside of you shoots straight through your legs, ready to collapse if not for his arms keeping you held in place.

“Je—I—“ your eyes roll back, grateful that he can’t see the wash of pleasure pouring down your face. Turned putty under his ministrations as you clamp around his tongue shamefully, scratching down the stall in a weak attempt to get away.

Jeno drags out only to lick up the trickle that managed to escape his mouth, lapping your inner thighs clean with a deep moan. Each swipe of his tongue raises your humiliation up higher, hissing and jerking away when he reaches the cut along your knee.

“What is this?” He grips a hold around your calve, forcing you to balance on one leg to get an up close look and inspect how deep the wound goes. “When did you do this?”

“Don’t know, think when I ran down the stairs to meet you this morning the stair bannister skimmed my leg..”

He grunts displeased, setting your foot down to stand and kick open the door. “Come here.”

Jeno motions to the sinks, dropping both of your backpacks down next to you on the counter. “Does it hurt?”

He examines your knee closer, propping your foot to rest along the sink ledge, tongue poked between his teeth.

“Why do you care?” You ask with a scowl, reassigning your attention to the bathroom floor when Jeno slowly blinks at you and reaches to open his backpack.

“Is that a serious question?”

“Whatever.”

He nods, huffing an amused sound under his breath as he grabs a pack of sanitation wipes. “This may sting but I’d rather you not get some infection, especially after scratching at it.”

He proceeds to lightly dab the wound, drawing a hiss between your teeth despite how gentle he’s trying to be.

“You don’t have to do that,” you bite, leg jerking in his hold. “I won’t pick at it anymore.”

“Sure.” Pink lips purse together, delicately blowing over the area. “I don’t have much, but I’ll cover it up with some gauze when we get home later.”

Home.

Jeno speaks as if you live together, and you may as well at this point. Ripping a bandage open with his teeth, his eyes thin to place the non-sticky white where your flesh appears most harmed. “You’re mine now, I expect you to be more careful than this with your body.”

Squeezing up your calve, his thin digits dig through the meat of your muscle, trapping your bouncing gaze. “Maybe it’s best you move out of that shit hole you live in. That areas not well fit for a young girl to live alone there.”

“I can’t afford to move..”

Jeno’s lips gingerly land atop the bandaid, puckering to press a kiss. “I’ll figure something out.”

“You’re being weird.” You whisper, turning away from the sight of his pouty mouth continuing to layer kisses over your wound as if to heal you faster.

“It’s okay.” He draws your foot off the counter, taking a hold of your thighs to make space for himself to stand closer between. “It’s okay to accept it.”

Jeno’s eyes appear black as night, empty of any genuine thought or emotion, but even then your chest aches at the flicker of hope when he looks at you. It’s different, nothing you’ve experienced from anyone else. He looks at you like you’re..

“Special.” He whispers, pinching your chin as he leans in closer and his palm smooths over the covered wound. “Does it hurt?”

“..Would you hurt me?” Your lips move faster than you mind can register, asking yourself the question over and over again without realizing you’ve said it outloud.

Jeno blinks slowly, taking in your nervous expression. Opening up his palm, he moves to cup your chin and keep your face visible as you try to hide away, slowly inching forward to connect your mouth to his.

The bell rings right before your lips can meet, dislodging the breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding. It’s easy to break from your thoughts and push yourself off from the sink, scoot around him fast with the excuse of being late. “My scholarship.” You constantly remind him, receiving nothing more than a roll of his eyes in return.

“Yeah yeah,” he trails after you out of the bathroom, voice low and threatening. “I’m holding you to what you said for later, don’t forget.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･

Jeno met Haechan the first day of Freshman year of high school.

Excited to show off a new pair of shoes with wheels attached on the soles, he rolled through the hallways to his first class. That’s when he noticed an on-slaught of senior girls running by in their short cheerleading uniforms. Giggling and waving as they jogged by him cackling from behind their hands- ‘hey freshie’.

All too distracted with a goofy smile on his face, he missed the shorter boy wandering ahead of him lost. An unfortunate collision caused their foreheads to bump hard enough for a bruise to show up on both of them by lunch.

Haechan hissed, crashing flat on his bottom painfully; Jeno quickly apologized and helped him up. Little did he know they’d become great friends from that day forward.

Jeno’s not jealous of Haechan, not necessarily. He admires how giving his friend can be, really. If Jeno ever forgets to grab his packed lunch, Haechan will always offer to share. He’s always sure to invite Jeno over to play games whenever his dad purchases the latest gaming console. He’d even go as far as lending Jeno the shirt off his back if needed.

‘What are friends for if not to have you back in any situation?’ That’s what Haechan would say whenever Jeno felt rendered speechless by his friend's generosity.

The thing is, Jeno had never had a friend like Haechan. He questions if he can even call his relationships with others friendships anymore.

Unlike Haechan, Jeno had trained himself to not share. Friends had only become burdensome with time. Always asking him to play with his toys, mooching from his delicious snacks, making a big deal over the new pair of sneakers he wore that day.

They liked him because he had nice things, but they didn’t actually care about him. They cared about materialistic bullshit, about his good looks, the designer name brand clothing he’d wear.

Haechan was different from all of them. One day he opened up and shared that he’d felt homesick. Vulnerable at the time after a long tiresome day of introducing himself to groups of snobby fake stuck up people. One even pointed out a manga on his desk saying- ‘I’ve only seen weird loners read that shit’.

‘I had a friend.. back home.’ Haechan had sighed despairingly, head dropped lazily on his bed; drained by the realization that this is his new life. ‘Well.. I wanted her to be more than a friend.’

Jeno watched Haechan over the next few years. His friend changed, reformed his persona to fit in with the standard; he adapted quickly to this new lifestyle. Days of asking Jeno if he’d like some of his lunch dwindled down to nothing; seemingly only irritated that Jeno could be so forgetful of he ever asked for his leftovers.

Things had only become more tense with time. Haechan had grown competitive with everyone. He craved to be the ‘it’ boy around school. It never phased Jeno, not really, he learned to accept the change in his friend.

Then came the day Haechan decided that Jeno was his competition.

“Jeno, don’t you think this Cartier bracelet would look so cute on my wrist?” Sinclair waved her phone in his face. Wrist waggling out toward him, suggesting with her flirty batting eyelashes that he buy it for her; she had been on his ass for months dropping hints. “Perhaps you could finally ask me out with a gesture such as this?”

“He can’t afford that.” Haechan rolls his eyes letting out a breathy scoff by her side.

“Of course he can, nothing a swipe of your dad’s Amex can’t cover. He won’t even notice it on the monthly statement.” Sinclair goes on.

“His dad’s broke.” Haechan corrects her abruptly, glancing quickly toward Jeno’s burning glare. “I mean, uh... don’t repeat that.”

Haechan snatches her phone, waving off that he’d buy it for her when he takes her out come Friday.

All it took was some stupid girl Jeno could give a fuck about for Haechan to let him down for the last time. It bothered him for months, imagining the various ways he could split his ‘friends’ skull open.

“I won’t mention it again dude. It was a mistake, alright?” Haechan whispers standing near his locker after Jeno had resorted to the silent treatment for the rest of the week. “Listen, I’m sure she’s already forgotten. I’ll just take her to some overpriced restaurant and tell her I made that up because I was high or whatever.”

“You promised me you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Promises are for children Jeno, I forgot alright? I’m allowed to make a mistake.” Haechan showed no remorse. Proving his promises to be empty, backed by no integrity, lacking worth and value. Jeno knew deep down Haechan only continued to befriend him out of guilt, he knew their relationship boiled down to nothing for the other at the end of the day.

He knew he had to do something about it, but he couldn't. He had to wait for the perfect timing. He had to leave Haechan defenseless. He needed to ensure no way for his father to find out of his plan. Leave Haechan with no way to snitch and rat him out, a threat strong enough to hold over his friend's head.

The day you came along everything fell into place. Jeno knew as he watched Haechan’s head lay on your shoulder from behind a bookshelf in the library, you clearly meant something to him. None of it made sense at first. Why would Haechan care about you of all people?

“Remember that girl you mentioned from back home?” Jeno decides to casually bring up the story he’d hardly cared about or paid attention to while gaming. His friend's throat cleared on the opposite end from behind his computer screen.

“Yeah, what about her?” Haechan says, continuing to mumble curses as he goes on playing.

“Whatever happened to her? Did you two keep in touch at all?” Jeno asks, cursing at the screen to seem casually interested.

“Uhhh,” Haechan swallows, shrugging. “Honestly, don’t know.”

Liar.

Jeno’s teeth grit, holding back a laugh. “That’s too bad, you two were really close, I remember how tore up you were back then when you had first moved. Took you a while to get over it.”

“Man, that was so long ago.” Haechan waves off. “I was a kid.”

Raising a finger to silence their conversation, Haechan pauses the game, picking up his phone after the first ring. “Hey baby, nah I’m just with Jeno, yeah the usual.” Haechan proceeded to ignore him, the old friend he once cherished long gone now.

Just like you.

There are times you want to ask ‘Why me? Why me of all people? Out of all the girls withering away for a mere blink from Jeno in their directions, what the fuck made me matter.’

The unplanned vow of silence you’ve committed to halts those times your tongue itches to lash at him, and you listen, you listen well, very well. It’s to your detriment really, because Jeno adores that you listen, he loves the implication of the power he constricts you with behind your binded lips.

It’s also to his detriment that— for lack of better words, Jeno isn’t the brightest. Maybe he doesn’t want to come off too intelligent, you contemplate as he gushes on about his lost friendship; his favorite topic other than you really.

Haechan.

Jeno’s obsessed with Haechan, at least he’s obsessed with the fact that Haechan won. Between his foul rehashing of times his alleged best friend made him feel futile, it’s easy to decipher why it had to be you.

Not to make Haechan jealous, no. Haechan could give a fuck about you.

Jeno sees the precious memories of his former friend that he lost in you. The glint in his iris sparkles, satisfied by your raptured gaze as he wraps up his story.

“That’s why you’re so perfect.” He says proudly, capturing his bottom lip between index finger and thumb, massaging it while a hum rises up his throat. “Had to be you. You’re the answer I’ve been waiting for.”

The answer. What the fuck does that even mean, you squint, blinking it away fast. Jeno beams, pulling you closer to him with his arm snaking around your waist. “I like when you do that, makes me wonder what’s going on in that brain of yours. Something devious I’m sure.”

Carrying your bag, he hooks an arm over your shoulder, drawing you close as you venture to your next class together. “Hey.”

Maneuvering you around to face him, he stops at the classroom door, grabbing the attention of numerous students as he blocks the entrance making an awkward scene for you. “What are yo—“

“I love you.” Jeno announces loud and clear, receiving a round of gasps and an uproar of whispers. He smiles, cheeks lined with wrinkles, eyebrows raised as he waits.

“Wha—…” breaking off, you peer around quickly, sweat pouring down your back out of fear. Anger and an oncoming storm raging through your gut. “What.”

He lets out a chuckle, sighing as he hugs your back to his chest and proceeds to make way to your seats, further boiling the heat building up your chest. “My sweet sweet Teddy.”

“What the hell is wrong with you!” You hiss, throwing your shoulder into his chest to continue to your seat under the eyes of the entirety of your class. Rounds of whispers sing around you, the usual confusion you’ve become accustomed to laced between every shared word.

He sits by your side, arm back around you in no time with a large smile, nodding and peering around the room to affirm that he meant what he just said.

Every cell in your body wants to explode, throw Jeno down onto the ground and crush his face under your foot. The squeeze around your shoulder curls you in further, wishing to be anywhere but here.

“Cold?” He asks, knowing that you aren’t, it’s a mere excuse to wrap himself around you more. His nose nuzzles against your hair, taking a deep inhale with a suffocating possessive hug wrapped tightly you. “Can’t have my Teddy get sick.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･

“Teddy.”

It’s shrill, nausea inducing, the way Jeno’s grown fond of this nickname for you.

The way he smiles and peers at you with some sick adoration as he calls you his teddy bear again.

While you feel trapped and disgusted, everyone else seems confused, peeved, and to be gossiping about the two of you.

Haechan’s girlfriend sports an ugly sneer when you walk by wrapped under one of Jeno’s arms; snapping the pencil in her hand into a broken half as he sets a kiss on your forehead, smirking at the round of gasps your schoolmates let out throughout the hallway.

“They’re all so jealous of you.”

They are jealous of you, watchful eyes speak volumes following your conjoined figures heading toward the parking lot.

Jeno has successfully transferred into nearly all of your classes, he picks you up and drops you off. Blows up your phone with texts and calls the second you’re apart. He doesn’t ask for updates or proof of what you’re doing, he demands it. Threats fall empty now, you don’t have much to say, he does the talking.

You listen.

“Our assignments are due next week.” He mutters, pulling away from the school in an opposite direction from where you live.

Our. Mine. His.

Nothing is yours anymore, Jeno made sure of that.

“I have to be home soon..”

“Oh yeah?” He lets out a breathy laugh, drumming the steering wheel while sat at a red light. “Last I checked you only have to be with me, your parents only call to check in on you once a week. They don’t have to know your location at all times teddy.”

Oh but he has to know. He knows everything about you, every excuse and lie you can concoct shot down by weeks of evidence collected while studying you from afar. Far enough for you to never catch on, too clueless because of your own insecurities to ever fathom that someone like Jeno could be obsessed with you.

“Besides, today is a special day.” He exclaims, driving into a gated community full of large three story houses resembling suburban mansions.

“How could you forget?” Jeno parks, moving to unbuckle your seatbelt. He sighs, pinching your chin to look at him. “It’s our one month.”

He pouts, bottom lip jutted out while blinking dumb and slow.

Sometimes you think that Jeno’s cute, and that makes you hate yourself more than anything. All you can do is avert your gaze, pretend he has no affect on you, keep up an act that he’s emptied you of any possible emotion; because he wants to destroy you. He wants you to feel helpless, wants you to rely on him because you have nothing else.

He’s pushing you inside of the house, digging into your knees from behind with his, built arms tightly wrapped around your waist. Suffocating you, that’s what he does, coating you in his scent, sucking out your energy throughout the duration of each day with the metaphoric needles he prickles you with. Every word that drips from his tongue feels like acid poured onto your flesh, burning through the layers to melt you deep inside until the pain goes numb.

His families house is enormous, spread out and fully furnished. Luxurious like some 5 star hotel, which Jeno hasn’t let you forget is only thanks to Haechan’s father for saving their ass.

‘My dad can’t afford this place anymore. The bank owns our house by now, but he’ll do anything to keep up appearances.’

That’s what he mentioned during lunch one day, ranting about how he can’t stand the way everyone ‘keeps up appearances’ around here; snickering disdainfully toward the table his former best friend sat at.

‘Especially him. Fake asshole.’

Jeno stops you in front of his bedroom door standing by itself in the hallway he’s led you through.

A dark empty hallway, away from all of the other bedrooms. Ominous and cold.

“You know the way, open the door teddy.”

Of course you know, it may as well be your bedroom at this point.

“I have a surprise for you.”

Jeno’s palms cover your eyes when you reach for the door handle, stiffening your spine as his chest knocks against your back to make you step further inside.

Inside of his bedroom it’s dimly lit, a chilled temperature; the air cools down your throat with every breath you take.

“Do you like it?” He’s smiling against the shell of your ear, whispering softly. Revealing with the drop of his hands a giant plushie sat on his bed against the corner; a human size teddy bear.

He knows you don’t like it, even the question sounds like a dare; a dare for you to say that you don’t like it, that you don’t like any of this.

You especially don’t like Jeno, or the way his palms brush down your arms, shifting to your waist to gather your top up. Bunching at your stomach as he begins to remove it from your body.

“There's more, Teddy.”

Of course there’s more.

The tips of his fingers slowly trail between your breasts, throwing your top off with ease because you don’t struggle. You let him take off your clothes whenever he wants.

Most times he doesn’t touch you much, but he counts, he memorizes. He traces over indentations from teeth buried into your skin and faded bruises left behind after fucking you roughly. He makes sure there are no others, only Jeno can mark you, only Jeno can see you like this.

He takes time discarding your bottoms, unbuttoning slowly, pushing the material down your hips even slower. Squatting down to his knees to pepper faint kisses on your hips and thighs as more your flesh comes to light; finishing off with a peck on your forehead when he stands and motions toward the plushie.

“Don’t you want the rest of your gift?”

You nod, just barely, taking a step toward the bed. Met with a hand clasped on your shoulder and a ‘nu-uh-uh Teddy’.

Jeno smirks, pushing on your shoulder. “On your knees.”

On your knees like the pet you’ve become. Crawling with your palms flattened onto the bed. Heating up knowing he’s behind you watching your underwear ride up your ass. It’s less humiliating now, he’s made you do worse.

A small black box sits between the teddy bear's legs, adorned with a glittery red bow.

“Open it.”

Hesitantly you pull apart the lid, pursing your mouth shut at the piece of jewelry inside.

A choker, a solid black thin choker you will no doubt have to wear around your neck everyday now. A choker with a teddy bear charm punctured in place through a small metal ring.

“Ah, I can tell you love it already.” He chuckles, ripping the box from your hold. Shoving your hair away to lean close and lock the clasp around the back of your neck. Grazing the edge of his nose on your jaw and cheek as he does, a silent reminder that you are his, and he will do whatever he pleases with you.

Jeno has a sardonic smirk stretching his lips as he takes you in, fingering the charm dangling just beneath your throat.

“My teddy bear.”

Tips of cold fingers trace your neck, following the pulse passing through your veins, it’s all just to push your buttons. Jeno wants a reaction, he craves your pitiful stares and miserable moans, he needs your pain to feel something.

You won’t give him that satisfaction, not anymore.

He sighs, pushing your shoulder to nudge you in the direction of the large plush. “Don’t think I’m letting you off easily for forgetting our special day either.”

God. How could he possibly care enough about you to count down the days you’ve been ‘together’ or whatever he considers this. “Now, show me how much you love your gift.” He says with a wink, tapping your ass and nudging his chin to the teddy bear laid between his pillows.

This has to be some sick kink of his, and it’s impossible to forget what he made you do in that abandoned classroom a month ago..

“Just like last time.” He hums, moving onto the bed with his knees. “I know you remember.”

It’s not necessarily watching you grind against a toy that ripples blood through his veins faster, filling up his cock until it weighs heavy and hot between his thighs; but the saddened broken image before him, with your gaze lowered in shame as you mount the plush and grit your teeth. It’s the shattered feeble look of defeat that fills his chest with warmth more than anything. “That’s it.”

Reaching to smooth up your spine, he pushes at the backs of your shoulders, shifting closer to sit behind you on his knees. “Wanna see you ride it up close.”

He works to guide your hips down onto the bears stomach, pushing hard until your core meets the soft material and you let out a shameful whimper. Biting down on his lip as he slaps your thigh, squeezing up your butt to your waist with instruction to move.

It’s vile, rolling your hips down at his command, growing short of breath as the friction builds up between your legs and his strong hands manipulate your movements. Tears spring past the corners of your eyes the faster he makes you move up and down, grinding your core along the life-size plushie full of humiliation and fear.

“Your ass looks so fucking good.” He groans deeply behind you, rubbing down your back to cup your buttcheeks in a squeeze. Gripping and kneading, parting you open to watch your rim flutter against your panties with each pathetic hump against the teddy bear. “I know I couldn’t be your first time teddy..”

He leans in, chin resting on your shoulder to halt your movements as he dips in past the cleft of your ass to find your hole. “But I’ll be the first to fuck your ass.”

The gasp you try to keep mute still reaches his ears, softly chuckling against you as he adjusts and slides your underwear to one side. “Consider it your gift to me for forgetting our special day.”

Some special fucking day..

“You’re so wet already, doubt I’ll even have to prep you.” Jeno whispers, nudging the tip of his thumb against your rim. “Looks really tight, what do you think? Should I be nice and stretch you open first?”

“Please..p-please, I’ve never..”

“Shh shh, don’t worry, I believe you.” He chuckles softly, pressing the blunt tip of his length against your entrance. “With how tight that pussy is, I know you’ve never let anyone inside your ass. It’ll be a special memory only for us..”

Is it special? The tingle building in your stomach seems to agree, relaxing against the plushy to arch your butt out more. It has to be a Pavlovian response by now, conditioned to seek this pleasure Jeno provides you. Even if you hate accepting it. It’s not your fault that your body's natural response is to crave his touch, and spread your legs wider for it.

“I’ll be nice.” There’s amusement in the way he says it, like he doesn’t believe himself either. Slapping the mass of his cock down between the dip in your ass, cursing through clenched teeth. “You may not show it, but your cunt never lies.”

The bulbous tip swipes down, pressing against your clit, pushing your knees to slide open an inch more. It’s all taunting and teasing, running the fat cockhead between your chubbed folds, dipping it into your entrance just to watch you squirm and rut back for more. “Greedy pussy, acting like I don’t fuck you enough.”

He mumbles, smacking the underside of his length between your thighs. The wet clap stinging under the weight of his heavy size beating down on your swollen core. “J-Jeno..”

“Something wrong teddy?” He tuts, hips rolling up, gripping your buttcheeks to sandwich around his length. “You sound.. impatient.”

He gulps, trapping his cock under his thumbs to fuck between your buttcheeks faster. Wet tip prodding out, spilling precum down making the glide even easier. Each thrust passing over your pussy hole and rim makes your thighs tremble, burying your face deeper into the teddy bears neck. “Mmmph..”

“I know it hurts you Teddy..” Jeno’s words rasp against the back of your neck. Bending forward to paint your warm flesh with a coat of moisture. Sweat, raw sex and saliva combine, sticking your skin and his mouth together like hot glue. “Why do you have to be so good at taking it though? Huh?”

Breath fans your upper back, the drag of his tongue races across your shoulders to bite down a groan on one. Notable effort to make you squirm and scream becomes more prevalent with each smack of his hips against your ass, grunting deeper the more he exerts. “It’s because you like me, right?” He asks between the sound of a struggled laugh, gasping with another slide of his thick length passing between your thighs. “You’re drenching me sweetheart, making a fucking mess of my sheets. You know what I’m gonna have to do later?”

He’s silent for a few seconds, panting heavily as his tongue trails to lick the column of your throat. The glide of his cock between your thighs is disgustingly loud, squishing and splashing in volumized echoes around his bedroom. “Your lack of response is becoming predictable, you know.”

His lower half snaps, protruding hip bones beat against your backside. A gut crunching sensation curls up your chest, unable to deny the slick gush continuously leaking out of you and coating your ass and thighs the more frantic his motions become. “Can’t wash these sheets again, need to savor it. Remind you of how much you enjoyed it. How you finally gave in and accepted this fate.”

“N-no..”

“What was that?” Jeno asks breathlessly, gripping the base of his girth to position the tip against your rim. “You want more, don’t you?”

He presses in, watching his wet slit disappear past your asshole. “Ahh, no!! S-stop!”

He snickers, angling the tip to stretch your tight ring of muscle. “Relax. It’s going to hurt a lot if you don’t relax.”

“Please..go slow..” you sigh, biting on the plushy when he nudges more.

“Be calm teddy. You want this?” He drags the sharp edges of his well-filed nails down your ass painfully, surely leaving marks behind. “Want my face shoved in your ass, huh? That’s why you’re whining so much.”

Jeno always has a way of speaking to you during these intimate moments. So cold and uncaring. The icy tone breaking your skin out in goosebumps. Even with your mouth sucking around the teddy bears arm, you whimper, the urge to cry spiking as he removes your panties and lands a sharp strike down on your ass.

“Bent over all pretty for me teddy, you arch that butt out like such a good little slut.” His palm smooths down lower, patting your wet folds to make you listen to how wet you are from this alone. “Who knows, after this I might not even bother with your pussy anymore. Have my own brand new unused hole to fuck now.”

He teases, swiping your clit side to side, dragging the tips of your fingers between your cunt to prod at your entrance. “You’re so wet, I love how fucking wet you get.”

A shaky breath leaves your lips as he twists two fingers inside and buries in knuckle deep, pressing his thumb to your asshole. “Such a perfect slut for me, ready to be my anal whore.” Jeno pulls out and lands a slap down on your rim, hard enough for the sound to clap out around his bedroom. Your hips drop from the sudden impact, biting down a scream into the plushy. “Enough of that, I wanna hear you.”

Wrapping around your waist, he manhandles you easily onto the center of his bed. Laid down on your back softly for him to get a good look at you, for you to finally see him. He’s big, broad, looming over you in the dim light illuminating from the corner of his room. The strokes of yellow paint across his chest and muscle, the darkness pronouncing deep indentations of muscle lining his abdomen and arms. Jeno falls forward, catching himself above you with his biceps bracketing your head, smiling as he leans in to kiss the fresh tears lining your cheeks.

“As much as I wanna bend you over and fuck your ass like there’s no tomorrow.. “ he slows to kiss up from your chin to where droplets have pooled under the hollows of your eyes. Sucking up and kissing the wetness there, enjoying it more than you’d be able to comprehend. “Nothings better than watching your face when I fuck every inch of my cock inside..”

The pure joy glaring back at you from his dark glass irises rains more tears down your face, sniffling and shaking as he licks them clean and squishes your lips out. “Relax sweetheart, it’ll feel good for both of us. Promise.”

Thin digits run down from your jawline, tracing past your neck and over the mounds of your breasts. Jeno adjusts your position to haul one of your thighs up, using his shoulder to keep your knee pressed against the bed. He makes a show of bringing his hand up to his mouth, sucking around three fingers, dragging his sloppy wet tongue between each with laser focused eyes locked on yours.

“You’re so good for me teddy, gonna let me use that pretty ass..” the way he holds you open exposes both of your holes, hovering past your swollen wet cunt to press two fingers against the clench of your asshole. “Just one baby..”

He presses the tip of one slicked up digit in, breaching the tight little muscle until you whine desperately. “Feels so warm..” Jeno’s eyes flutter, thick black eyelashes still visible in the low light. He sounds throaty, hungry, exasperated and needy. Quietly muttering to himself about how good your tight hole feels as he begins to pull his finger in and out slowly. “Bet your pussy was even tighter than this when you were still a virgin.”

His voice comes out a lot more harsh, gravelly, guiding another finger in with the next stroke. They scissor through and flutter against your inner walls, tugging lightly at your rim as he dips out to the just the tips. “You’re opening up great for me sweetheart. Do you see how you always listen so good?”

Jeno sits on his knees like a predator catching his prey after a long meticulous hunt. Prodding another tip past your rim alongside the two, the muscles lining his arm rippling, exerting more strength to not push them in all at once. “Tell me teddy, are you desperate enough for me to even let me claim your ass?”

Your throat dries, pursing your lips together to quell the moan that nearly spills out. It’s a new type of full, sneaking peeks at the veins running down his inner forearm leading to the fingers working you open. A wash of shame and heat streaks down your limbs, shivering when Jeno draws his digits free, dangling them above your ass.

“I know you are.” He lands another slap between your thighs, making your extended leg jerk. Fixing his angle to line the tip of his cock with your rim, the large blunt tip presses down, having to tuck your lips in to not scream. “..but I want to hear you say it.”

The head of his cock nudges in, pulling a gasp from your chest. Jeno bends closer to grab your jaw, shake your head around until you look at him. “Tell me to fuck your ass.”

“I’m—“ your voice sounds unrecognizable, squeaking out brokenly, overpowering the one you’re used to. “I—‘wan—“

Bending in closer, the pull up your hamstring burns, further pushing your leg against the bed. He pushes in another inch, the bulbous tip nearly fully entering, skin stretched taut around him. “You can do it, I know you can do it. Tell me sweetheart.”

“F-fuck—“ you pause, the last bits of your mind slipping away to another dimension. “Fuck m-my ass, please—fuck my a-ass.”

A sick pleased smile lifts the corners of his lips, bumping the tip of his nose to yours. Jeno doesn’t fuck the rest of his length in immediately the way you expect, slowly pushing each inch to savor the snap around his shaft.

It’s when his hips bump against the backs of your thighs that you finally take in a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. Panting out heavily and wide eyed when you can feel the entirety of his cock fully sheathed inside of you.

It’s when Jeno begins to pull out that you bite down to keep in a scream, lifting up on his forearms caged around your head to watch his length draw free. It feels like he’s splitting you in two and he hasn’t even really gotten into it yet. It goes on like that for a minute or two, his head hung, black hair in your face, awestruck by your rim sucking around his dick each time he pulls out to the tip. He gains speed slowly, snapping his hips forward for the first time. Jolting your spine to arch up and finally release a tiny scream you can’t hold in any longer.

“Pussys making such a mess teddy..” Jeno rasps, throwing his head back, pink lips hung open. “Fuck, you’re dripping down to my balls. Love getting fucked up the ass.”

Every thought racing through your mind dissolves, blank and empty as you crane your neck to the side to get a look at what he’s going on about. Embarrassment flushes down your face, unconsciously clamping down on his length plunging in faster. The powerful snap of his hips rocking you deep into his bed, surrounded by Jeno Jeno Jeno. His smell, his touch, his mouth and his meaty girth stretching you open. It’s become something you expect, something you’d feel weird without now, Jeno.

It burns when he buries in deep, grabbing onto the back of your knee for better control. The stretch feels more and more overwhelming with each pass of his cock manipulating your tight ring of muscle further. Digging his knees steadily into the bed, he picks up the pace and kicks his hips forward to fuck in to the hilt.

“Love fucking your ass. Love fucking you.” Jeno’s eyes clench shut, blinking quickly to open them and shove his forehead against yours. “Love you.”

God it makes your stomach churn, half pulled into a pleasure that feels too good to be true; sickened by how good it feels to be impaled by his fat cock. Half suffocated by the rushing swarm of emotions lassoing your brain, tightening until you feel ready to burst. And Jeno again with the fucking L word, dropping it like nothing, making sure you feel each syllable through his girth splitting you open.

The push and pull against your clenching rim feels painful, feels good, makes your head spin. He eats it up, licking across your lips, trapping the bottom between his teeth to suck on. Nose dragging down your cheek, lapping the tears, sweat and spit painting your face. It should feel disgusting, you should feel repulsed, but this behaviors become so standard now. Jeno’s like a puppy sometimes, burying his face in your neck, searching for a place to lay new kisses.

Even during these times when he’s on top of you, pushing his cock in deep enough to bruise your cervix, your fingers itch to touch him. He usually does it for you, grabs your wrists and forces your hands to drag down his face, kissing the inside of your palms and wrists.

He seems more intent on kissing you right now, letting ragged breaths fans across your lips between light pecks. “Can you cum like this?” He asks, murmuring against your mouth.

“I—I d-don’t know..” you really don’t. It’s your first time and the pleasures surging all over in different directions, racing between pain and confusion back to arousal and need.

“You can.” Jeno whispers, lowering his face to your neck, gaze focused on your connected lower halves. “You’re so wet.”

Fingers trail down your stomach, softly skimming over your clit before easing between your folds. He sinks two inside, thumb rubbing your clit in a simultaneous motion, filling you from both ends. “Ugh! Yeah just like that sweetheart..”

Jeno snaps forward, trying to match the rhythm of his hips to his fingers. He bites down on your jugular, panting heavily against your throat. The burn of the stretch crashes against waves of pleasure, twitching up with each rough rub at your clit.

“I’m—I’m c-cumm—“ the sob you break off into has him moving faster akin to a feral animal. The weight of his bulky frame lands down on you hard enough to make his bed shake, headboard slam against the wall. Each brush of his thumb at your clit feels more sensitive than the last, sending you over the edge, mind blank beyond the grip your ass has around his cock. “Ahh!”

The wetness spilling out past his fingers slides all the way down to your lower back, further solidifying your humiliation. Because he’s right, you are wet just from this, loving your ass stuffed full. Drowning in the sensation of his length ramming in and out.

“Squeeze that fuckhole around me so good teddy, cum cum—“ Jeno chants manically, throwing his hips down rough and fast. Pressing down your clit harshly between viscous flicks, rolling the stiff nub until your toes curl.

You spill over quickly, writhing under his weight as the pressure of wetness pushes his fingers out of your cunt. The orgasm rolls through you like no other, rolling your eyes to the back of your skull. Thinking you’ve passed off into the afterlife if not for the way he draws back and pounds into your ass.

“You like it?!” Jeno’s expression morphs into one of anger, black eyebrows furrowed together. He grabs your face again, chasing after his release still slamming his cock in deep. “You like getting fucked up the ass?”

The questions pointed, furious. The face of frustration and anger only there to mask how close he is to falling apart, reaching a new high as he charges to the peak.

“L-love it, yes..” you barely whisper, tear filled eyes blinking the moisture away to watch his features contort and crumble. His pace turns erratic, breath quickening fast enough for his chest to beat up and down. Letting out a deep growl, Jeno comes to a still, mouth hung open letting a chopped up groan roll off his tongue. His cock thrums wildly against your inner walls, flooding your ass with warm white cum you’ve had poured inside of your cunt for weeks.

The little sounds dripping from his lips sounds anguished, whimpering when he thrusts in one more time to ensure his cums evenly painted your insides. “Love you so much..”

His eyes fall shut, nose dug into your cheek catching his breath. The tips of your fingers tingle again, itching and burning to comb through his soft dark locks, to smooth the sweaty strands off his forehead. It feels like the right thing to do.. maybe with anyone else.

But you want it to feel right with Jeno..

He grumbles, littering kisses down your cheek to the corner of your mouth. “Gonna pull out, okay?”

You don’t respond, not even a nod, only hissing through your teeth as you gape and the now cooled down semen trickles out of your ass disgustingly, really cementing what you’ve just done. What you’ve let him do to you again.

Jeno hums softly, laying by your side without a worry, seeming pleased and full of life judging by the small smile on his face. “Happy anniversary teddy.” He reaches for your hand, scrabbling to entwine your fingers when you try to pull away.

“What’re you thinking about?” He murmurs, shifting closer to your side as you curl into yourself to get further away. “I don’t even have to ask. I’m sure I can throw out a wild guess..”

He lets out a long sigh, huffing a quiet laugh. “You’re not as good at masking your emotions as you may think.. You have to erase those old memories you have of Haechan. He’s not a good guy.” Jeno remarks, nudging his elbow against your side. “He’s a bad person.”

“You are no better..” You accuse, a bit surprised, whispering with your mouth pressed against his bed. The last person you’re thinking about right now is Haechan(..maybe). Jeno’s smile only grows wider, tickled to hear you talking back finally.

“There’s a difference between me and him.” He says surely, slinging an arm around your waist, hooking his chin over your shoulder as he presses in close to whisper. “He changed to please everyone. I just don’t care anymore.”

“You’re both terrible people..”

Jeno sighs, smile still evident in his tone, leaning closer kissing your ear. “I love you.”

“Stop saying that.” You mutter, digging your elbow back to push space between you.

“Why would I do that?” Smoothing your arm down, he kisses the end of your jaw, licking your earlobe. “I love you, I know you won’t say it back, but that won’t stop me from letting you know that I love you.” He cozies up against you, yawning. “Get some rest, we have that test to pass tomorrow.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･

Jeno has that look on his face again, the one that shifts from raunchy to feral hunger, the one that has him reaching to grab you in less than a second.

“I’m still sore..”

“I barely even touched your pussy.” He says cocking an eyebrow, phone dinging in his pocket over and over again. “Was I too mean teddy?” His palm swipes down the curve of your ass, cupping your buttcheek.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

He groans, smacking your butt lightly before reaching to free his phone.

“Shit, my dad’s blowing up my phone.” He huffs annoyed, swiping through paragraphs of text messages. Most yelling at him in all caps lock for not answering his phone. “He needs me to pick up some files from his home office, says it’s urgent. Something about an accident..”

Frustrated, he hoists his bag and adjusts yours on his other arm, nodding toward the end of the hall. “Come on.”

“Jeno, the test—I can’t!”

He sets you with a look that nearly makes you crumble, ready to succumb and follow his orders. “Please, you know my grades..”

Dragging the tip of his tongue between his teeth, he sighs deep and loud, pinching the skin between his eyebrows together. “Fine.”

What?

He looks irritated, upper lip twitching stretched over his teeth trying to control his anger. “But I’ll try to come back later to pick you up. If you take longer than a minute to reply to me, I swear to fucking God—“

“I won’t!” You almost add a ‘thank you’, biting down on your tongue to stop yourself. “I’ll keep my phone within view shot in case of anything..”

Jeno rubs at his temples, shoulders visibly trembling. “Fuck. Whatever. Fine.”

He stops to take in your elated expression, cupping your cheeks, thumbs caressing your soft skin. “Don’t forget, I love you.”

You won’t say it back, he knows you won’t, but he waits for a minute, a flicker of hope passing behind his gaze. “Good luck on your test, I know you don’t need it teddy.”

He leans in and kisses you, full control on his end. Making a real show of it by shoving his tongue down your throat right in the middle of the hallway where everyone watches and whispers nasty remarks. He wants them to see, he wants certain people to see especially. Public display of affection had never been something you enjoyed, or even experienced before Jeno, but he made it something you had to learn to endure.

“Be good.” He says quietly, warningly, slipping your bag from his shoulder. “I’ll see you soon.”

You nearly risk being late to class just to watch him leave, having to run to make it on time. The first time you’ve been alone in days, weeks even. Sitting down at your desk with a sense of relief, a crippling weight lifted off your spine. This test would be a breeze without him there to breath down your neck.

It is really crazy how you turn to the empty seat next to you numerous times though, fully expecting to see him there waiting for the next answer. Finishing off your exam without handing it over to Jeno to ensure he copied all of your answers felt odd, peering at your phone over and over again expecting notifications only to have none.

So. This is life without him. Normal? Not anxiety inducing? Nothing to fear or worry about..

You should know better though, exiting your class blindsided by Haechan leaping in front of you, hooking his arm around yours. “You. In here. NOW.”

“Haechan?! What the hell!” You cough, waving at dust that lifts from the janitor closet floor. Cleaning supplies and clutter surround you, setting in how claustrophobic you feel when he slams the door shut and locks it.

“We need to talk. Right now.”

“About what?!” Pushing him off, you stumble back and glare. Watching his face fall at the sight of your anger.

“About this.” He says, reaching for the charm adorning your neck, flicking the teddy bear. “What’s this bullshit all about? What are you dating Jeno now?? What the fuck is wrong with the two of you.”

“The two of us?! There’s nothing wrong with me?! It’s your fault any of this is even happening to me!” You screech, slapping his hand away.

“My fault?! You low lives are threatening to ruin my future and it’s somehow MY fault??” Haechan bellows, grabbing your upper arms.

“Low lives?”

He scoffs, shaking you with his firm hold. “Don’t change the subject! What the fuck if your problem, huh? Are you making him do this? You two need money that badly?”

Haechan could have just asked about your relationship with Jeno if he really cared. He would have noticed how different you’ve been looking and acting if he really ever cared about you.

“Everything’s about money to you..” you mutter, gaze hanging low.

“To me?! I’m the one being threatened here!” He says in disbelief, burning holes into your face with a crazed look. “I don’t need any money from you or him.”

No. You don’t need anything, do you? Everything’s about you. You you you you…

Jeno was right all along.

“You seriously think I want your fucking money Haechan?!?” You shout, breaking out of his hold to shove him back. “What about me, asshole?!? Do you even give a shit about me! No, you don’t! Because I embarrass you that much, huh?”

“What are you even going on about.” Rolling his eyes, he grabs your wrists before you can pummel him with your fists, teeth gritted. “Of course I give a shit about you, why do you think I’m here?! He’s always hovering around you! It’s impossible to get near you anymore.”

“You’re only here because you think I’m weak.”

“Weak?” Haechan repeats, tossing your arms down. “He’s really brainwashed you, yeah? Made you believe I’m the bad guy here? I’m not the one money hungry enough to destroy years of friendship over some petty jealousy!”

“He hasn’t brainwashed me.” You snap back, nearly adding a lie to make yourself feel better. He doesn’t talk about Haechan that much, and he’s not that jealous..

“Oh yeah? Than what the fuck is this?” His fingers aim for your choker again, sliding the tips under to press along your pulse. “Wearing a collar like a good little bitch?”

“It’s a gift.”

Haechan’s mouth parts in surprise, cocking an eyebrow. “You really like that psychopath, I can’t believe this.”

“Fuck you.” You bite back, wrapping around his wrists. “You have no right to assume anything about me.”

“And me? What about me, huh?” He says soft and low, leaning in closer. “I thought you liked me.”

“You did?” You ask, a bit surprised. You hadn’t made it that obvious, right?

“So, you don’t?” Haechan’s gaze flickers to yours, peering between each of your eyes confused. “Ever since we were kids I thought..”

“Do you like me? Did you ever?”

“Always, I always have.” He says surely, tugging out of your grip. “Not that it matters.”

“W-Why?” You stutter, feeling heat rush to your face. “Because y-you won’t do anything about it? Because I’m nothing but a low life, right?!”

Haechan steps closer, locking you in place against him with his arms tightening around your waist. “You’re not, okay? I’m just mad about Jeno..”

You hate getting angry, because you hate to show how weak you really are, cursing at the first batch of tears that pour from your eyes. You punch at his chest, letting out a tired sob. Tired because of this, everything, tired of holding onto something you never had. “It’s all your fault. He wouldn’t even care about me if it wasn’t for you.”

“What’s my fault?! That your boyfriend’s a certified nut job??”

“This isn’t about him! He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Oh yeah?” Haechan squeezes you in, inching his face closer to yours. “So, you won’t care if I do this.”

The same lips you dreamt about for years come closer, a breath away from finding yours. He pauses to watch your reaction, eyelashes fluttering up and down expecting you to do something to get away. Because Jeno’s girlfriend wouldn’t let another guy kiss her, especially not his new enemy.

It’s nothing like your dreams when he finally goes for it, he’s not soft and nice, he doesn’t move against your mouth like he belongs there. The kiss is rough, fast, sloppy, needy and aggressive. He sees his chance and takes it, sliding his tongue in past your lips as you gasp, lowering his hands to your ass with a fierce squeeze. His dreams had been to strip your innocence, watch your fall apart and scream while he fucked you deep. Nothing like the fairytale stories you’d imagined. Each pass of his tongue against yours indicates his desire, forcing your arms out of his hold to reach for his hair, fisting it and pulling as hard as you can.

“Ahhh! Ahh! Stop!” He whines, lips already swollen.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You sneer, coiling tendrils between your digits, pulling until his neck arches back and a high-pitched squeak breaks free from his mouth.

“I knew it.” He grits, eyes thinning into a glare. “You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

“Is that what this is about?! You just need to have everything Jeno has?!”

“You are the one falling for that freak.” Haechan spits, slapping your ass. “Everyone knows Jeno fucks like a fucking crazed beast, you’re not as innocent as I thought.”

“I’m not fucking him.” Technicalities..

“Yeah? And why should I believe you?” He plays with the hem of your skirt, tickling at the skin there. “You say that you like me and yet here you are holding back. I think you’re a liar, trying to protect your crazy boyfriend..”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah?” Haechan steps back, leaning against a shelf full of cleaning products. Reaching below his waist to unbuckle his belt. A bulge sits beneath his zipper, slowly lowering it with his eyes on yours. “Get on your knees.”

“What!?”

He snickers, shoving his boxers and jeans down under his balls. “I said get on your knees.”

He has the audacity to wear a cocky grin, tilting his head back onto the shelf as he begins to gently stroke his cock to full mass. You have to look, have to lick your lips at the sight of his length beginning to chub up in his hold. It’s not enough to subside your anger, marching forward to slam his shoulders back against the shelf. “Who do you think you are?!”

“A guy you like.” He says, voice low, staring at your lips. “A guy who likes you.”

This certainly isn’t normal by any means, you know that, but that doesn’t stop the extra skip in your heartbeat. Doesn’t stop your eyes from trailing down Haechan’s face to where he sucks on his bottom lip, letting it go and bounce shiny with spit. “Now.” Reaching for your mouth, he slides a thumb across your lower lip, pushing down on the fatty center. “Get. On. Your. Knees.”

There’s a cruel edge to his tone, watching you crumble and slip down onto the floor, eye-level to his length. “Don’t act surprised. This is what you want.”

You don’t know what to say, watching your knees settle on the ground before looking up. He strokes at his size lazily, the tip right between your eyes. Nowhere near as big as Jeno, that’s for sure..

“You’ve always had such a pretty mouth, always used it to talk so much shit.” He smirks confidently, bringing the tip closer to your pouty lips. “What are you waiting for?”

Haechan even smells rich from down here, clean, trimmed pubes, a slight musk wafting off his sack. Jeno’s a little different, he’s always hairless, always smells clean in a soft and inviting way. You think he keeps himself extra tidy to entice you more, but maybe that’s just him. Maybe this is just Haechan..

“D-do you have protection?”

“Huh??” He says, surprised, shrugging and reaching for his wallet. “Yeah, whatever.”

He sounds a little ticked off, flicking the condom at your pressed together thighs. Not putting up an argument either way. It’s been awhile since you’ve had to use one of these, and as you unwrap the package you start to wonder why..

Clearing your throat, you nervously reach to grip around the middle of his length. It’s not as heavy in your hold, not as thick, a lot smoother with less prominent veins. The condom rolls down fine, aided by a layer of lube that will surely taste disgusting sliding down your tongue. He’s hissing above you, eyebrows scrunched together focused on your hands and robotic expression, wondering if you’re lying about everything..

“Come on.” Haechan says desperately, reaching to thumb your lip again, a lot messier and more eager. “You want my cock, don’t you?”

Leaning in, you test the feel of it, sliding the tip across your upper lip. Slowly craning your neck up to watch his face fall apart. “Say it. Wanna hear you say it.”

He grips your hair, fingers tingling through your scalp, forcing your neck back further. Plump lips hang open above you, breathily moaning, stuck on his cock dragging your lower lip open. “Say you want my cock like the pathetic fucking slut you are.”

That flicks your eyes open fully, rising from your knees quickly with a tight grasp around his size. “What did you just say to me?!”

Haechan’s jaw hangs limp in shock, letting out a shattered moan when you pull at his length roughly. “Turn the fuck around.”

He listens without even trying to resist, grabbing onto one of the shelfs with your fist still circled around him. “S-sorry.. I thought..”

“Shut the fuck up Haechan.” Grabbing his wrists, you loop them both back and trap them in place against his lower back. Reaching lower with your free hand to smooth over his ass.

“Now, repeat that? What did you just say to me?”

He shakes, turning his face to the side to watch you from the corner of his eye. “Nothing nothing! I take it back!”

“Are you sorry?” You whisper, nipping at his jaw. Fingers skimming between the crevice between his ass.

The vibrations soaring off his body intensify, trembling harder, breathing through his nose gruffly. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He chants, breaking off into a whimper.

He doesn’t know what you wish he was sorry for. Delivering a slap to his ass and watching it bounce back against the collision, you hum lowly.

“Come here.” He’s easy to whip around, shivering from head to toe excitedly. Ankles weak to walk on as if he could cum already, making it easy to push him down onto the floor.

“Fuck, you’re crazy..” he whimpers, laying back and kicking his legs to get his pants off. He looks more pathetic than the first time you ever met him, sobbing under you, crying for you to let him go.

“It’s your fault.” You mutter, pushing your skirt and underwear off to mount his hips without restraint. “Wish I’d never met you.” You hiss, reaching for his chin to dig your fingers into his cheeks. He blinks up at your blearily, the bright light above you staining his face in a white translucent shade, eyes lost and glossy. He’s pretty, so so so pretty, makes your chest burn and ache. He’s always been pretty, eyelashes fanning across his cheeks slowly with each blink, plump lips shoved out for you to capture.

“You’re so sexy.” He mutters, struggling under your rough grip. “If I’d known—“

“If you had known what?” You sneer, slapping his cheek hard enough for his head to snap to the side, eyes bewildered and surprised.

“Fuck you’re..” he spits, bending forward at his neck to watch your core sit down on his length. “Ahh.. shit I’m still!—” He splutters, head dropping back, hips rutting up as you start to slide against his cock.

It’s easy to take control and feel powerful on top of him like this, shifting back to grab his knees and push them up. “Stay still.” You demand, using force to push the pits of his knees down and hold yourself up. Haechan whimpers from the change in position, feeling small and confined under your figure sitting above him.

“Fuck I’m—not gonna last long. You’re too much.” He’s such a whiny sniveling mess, drooling down his chin, cock twitching against your cunt.

“You like that?” Hoisting yourself up against his legs, you lift enough to line the tip of his cock up to your entrance, hips trembling as you begin to lower and breach your hole.

“Ahhh! Fuck!” Haechan screams pretty, high-pitched, unashamed. His head tosses back fully exposing his Adam’s apple, dainty collarbones. He’s nothing now, nothing but a groveling whore begging to be fucked.

“Say it.” You say full of threat, struggling to keep yourself held up, clawing your nails into the sides of his knees. “Beg me to fuck you.”

The softest cracked moan spills from his red juicy mouth, face dropped to the side looking at you with half-lidded drunk eyes. “Please please, please fuck me.”

He’s nothing, and he could easily be yours.

It’s so easy to mount him, to bury the rest of his length inside of you. It’s less of a struggle to take him than you’re used to, filling you to the brim with a wet splash against his pelvis where you land. He whines and moans through it, making you work to ride his cock faster.

Haechan looks brainless, gorgeous, stupid as fuck with his tongue hung out lavving at the drool pouring from the corners of his lips. Sweaty hands push yours off his knees, holding himself open wider to free your hands. The burn running up your thighs calms as you grab onto his chest and ball his shirt between your fists, short of breath the faster you work to fall into a rhythm.

“Faster, come on, fuck me faster!” He grunts under you, voice loud and ragged over the thunderous clap of your ass crashing down on him.

“Shut the fuck up whore.” You bite, reaching to wrap around his neck for better leverage. Pretty brown eyes go wide, gasping for breath as you tighten around his throat until his head shakes and he sounds empty of air. His cock thrums wildly, urging you to slam down harder, rock your hips faster. The veins along his forehead expand the more he struggles to breathe, mouth hung wide open like nothing but a dumb slut. “Only sluts get off f-from being choked.”

He nods weakly, coughing and groaning, sweaty fingers slipping on and off his legs. “Yes yes, ahhh g-gonna cum.”

“If you cum before me I’ll bite your dick off.” You spit out angrily, freeing his neck to clasp his chin and bury your fingers inside of his slutty mouth. “You useless slut.”

Haechan’s eyes roll back, tongue lapping between your digits, balls colliding with your ass with each heavy thrust. “Ah—ahh!” He gurgles and spits, making a mess around your fingers. “Pl-please!”

The hold on his knees slips free, arms flopping down to his sides, legs landing on the ground hard with rapid tremors shooting through. “Shit!” You grunt, stilling as his length pulses and warmth fills the condom, sliding off before any of it can pour out inside of you. “What did I fucking say?!”

Anger and arousal combined feel similar to a slasher film. Murderous and frightening, craving death around the corner as the music changes to warn you as the next kill approaches. Haechan lays under you out of breath, face covered in sweat and saliva, cock pathetically twitching against his stomach. “Selfish.”

Snapping the condom band into place, you settle back down on his length, making him shout out and shake his head. “No no! That hurts!”

“I said shut the fuck up.” Bending in, you reach for his hair, fisting handfuls to pull on and control the speed of your hips. So useless, so stupid and useless, you deserve better than this. Better than someone who can’t even control his own needs to make sure you both finish and reach pleasure.

Tears brim his eyes as you rock down and roll your cunt against his half-hard soaked cock. The friction of creamy wet rubber rutting against his length more painful than enjoyable at this point, springing droplets down his cheeks.

“You’re so weak.” He nods, has the nerve to agree with you. Biting down on his plush bottom lip to compress a sob, glossy eyes blinking tears out faster.

The broken sight of him sends shivers up your spine, jabbing the tip of his cock against your clit in rapid motion until your hole convulses and draws out a much deserved orgasm.

“Holy shit..” he wheezes out breathlessly, the back of his head hitting the floor painfully as you abruptly release him and move to the side.

Satisfaction courses through your veins, along with something else weighing heavy on your mind..

That was.. interesting. Is that the word you’re looking for? Interesting.

Patting the floor for your skirt, you immediately grab your phone. Jeno hasn’t texted yet. Even more interesting, something really must be wrong with his dad.. you should send him a message first. He might need you right now. Why the hell do you care about what he needs..

“Hey, let’s keep this between us.” Haechan disrupts your inner monologue, patting your shoulder. “Don’t need Jeno seriously spreading those photos around and whatever else he’s blackmailing me with.”

“Does your dad know about your drug use?” You ask, sliding your arm away from his touch.

He frowns, nose wrinkling annoyed. “Why the fuck would he know about that?!”

Because you’re a spoiled brat. Surprised that daddy even cares about his privileged son ruining his future, blowing his father’s hard earned money on more white shit to snort up his nose.

You shrug, buttoning up your shirt. “I guess you have a lot of secrets.”

Like me.

You are one of Haechan’s secrets if you think about it.. his secrets stemming from shame it seems. Because he’s ashamed of you, of the part of his life you remind him of.

“Whatever.” He scoffs, standing uncomfortably, nervously scratching his head.

“Don’t worry.” You reassure, picking up your belongings and grabbing the door handle. “There’s nothing your secrets can provide for me. See you later?”

His frown deepens, chewing on his bottom lip and shrugging. “Whatever.”

“Goodbye Haechan.”

You leave first, emotions unsettled and scattered as you walk down the hall to your locker. It’s nearing the end of the day, thankful that Haechan only made you miss gym class. Jeno always takes longer to fuck you, he likes to make sure you always get off, sometimes he doesn’t even finish..

Jeno. Shit.

‘Waiting for you by the north gate entrance.’

Shit shit shit. What the fuck. Jeno said he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to pick you up today, or that he’d try to, whatever. Not even a heads up?! Nothing to warn you??

Fuck, what if you smell like Haechan?! Knowing Jeno he’d be able to tell. There’s no way you can come up with something quick enough to get him off your ass, another text alerts you demanding for you to hurry up.

‘If you’re not out here in the next 50 seconds I’m coming inside.’

Fuck. You really fucked up this time, fear picks up your pace to jog through the hallway corridor faster, dodging your classmates bodies left and right until you near the exit short of breath and look out to see your… Jeno, stepping out from the driver’s seat.

“There you are.” He smiles, a big smile, the type that reaches his eyes. The one that’s for show, for others to coo and aww at. The one that garners close-to-ear whispers behind hands and eyes bouncing back and forth from you to Jeno.

‘Why her?’

Everyone asks, everyone wants to know. You never asked before, until one day the voices broke you down and found yourself constantly asking- ‘why me?’

You’d never ask Jeno, you never ask him anything.. but right now, as you nervously force your lips into a measly smile, the cramp forming in your stomach nearly makes you trip down the grass hill leading to where his cars parked awaiting you with the passenger door open.

“That’s funny.” Jeno says under his breath, leaning in to wrap around your waist. “You never smile at me.” He whispers near your ear, taking a step back to look over your face. “What’s up?”

The way his head tilts scrutinizing your face makes your chest cave, lips pressed together tightly as his eyelashes lower over his iris the more he lowers toward your neck; the collar of your shirt saves you of any fear that Haechan left behind any incriminating evidence of what took place less than an hour ago.

“Hmm..” Jeno reaches forward before you have a chance to react, tugging you closer by the fanned edges of your collared shirt. “Now why is your top button undone..”

He can see the way your throat jumps, hollowing out between your collarbones with each dry nervous swallow. “And your necklace.”

Your choker, he means. Fuck your choker. The lucid memory of Haechan angrily pulling on the teddy charm adorning the strap squeezing your neck makes your teeth grit, hidden behind your quivering lips.

“Strange.” Jeno’s eyebrows gather together, the gleam in his eyes darkening despite afternoon sun illuminating down on him, highlighting every defined flawless attractive feature. “You’ve never disobeyed me this much before.”

“Wha—“

“You know you’re supposed to always have this uncovered. Why did I dip into my savings and risk getting chewed out by my dad? For you to try to make me a secret?” Jeno finishes buttoning your shirt back up, digits reaching beneath the leather to adjust the charm’s position while adding more pressure, losing the tiny centimeter of space between your neck and the material. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

“No!” Your reactions too fast, fast enough to fully widen his eyes, mouth tensed as he meets your gaze. “I—I had to.. to participate..”

“In what?”

“Physical Ed.. you know I always sit out with you.” Jeno watched your choice of physical activity: yoga, for less than a week before deciding this form of education benefited you in no way. Something about those ridiculous yoga pants you wear for class only seemed to distract a group of guys in the weight lifting class across the gym. He concocted doctor's slips for the both of you to sit out and study instead. “Coach didn’t let me today.. she said there's no way my period cramps last all month. I must have forgotten to fix my necklace after getting dressed, I’m sorry..”

Jeno nods, smoothing his thumb over your warm cheek, hot from anxiety rising the longer you stand there and risk the chance of running into Haechan on his way home. “That bitch. I’ll deal with her tomorrow.”

He pauses again, a contemplative look taking over as he reaches for your hair and smooths down fly aways. “No wonder you look sweaty. Must have been working hard, using all of your body and stamina.” Jeno’s tone lowers to a whisper, gently pressing under your lash line. “Even smeared your mascara..”

“I really should take a shower.” You say, managing to speak quickly without stutter. “Didn’t have a chance to after gym class and the air conditioning must have been broken or something in the homeroom.”

“That’s fine.” Leaning in, his nose presses to your jugular taking a deep inhale. “I like it, smell like you just got fucked.” Reaching for your lower back, Jeno moves you forward toward the passenger seat, the facade of a nice boyfriend(or whatever he is) vanishes with the turn of his head.

You learned quickly to let him do what he wants after receiving nothing but hard stares to shut you down. Jeno wants things done his way, even buckling your seatbelt is his responsibility.

The engine vibrates as you wait for him to settle into his seat and back out of the parking lot, just barely missing Haechan’s exit by a few seconds.

It’s silent on the way to his home, tense and thick. Maybe it’s guilt, your guilt, guilt you can’t understand carrying to begin with. Why should you feel guilty? Does Jeno deserve that? Is it really because Haechan didn’t feel like Jeno? Because he didn’t make you relinquish control, didn’t make you feel special? Is that what Jeno does? He makes you feel like nothing else matters more than you?

Biting your nails raw, down to the rough neglected skin beneath until the tips of your fingers ache, you’re unsure if it's the silence that bothers you more or your spiraling thoughts screaming louder and louder. “Was everything okay? With your dad?”

Jeno comes to a stop at a red light, tapping the steering wheel, lips parting open into a half smile. “I didn’t think you’d ask me.”

He doesn’t turn to look at you, only glances from the corner of his eye, sleek and cold. “You never ask me anything.”

A dry breathy laugh passes through his nose, stepping on the gas again as you near the neighborhood you’ve become more familiar with than your own by now. “Did you miss me that much today, teddy?” He’s grinning, stoically, and if you blink too long you’d miss the way his head shakes in disbelief.

Shutting off his car, he turns and reaches for your chin to lift your face up. It’s your best effort to appear as nothing, not display an ounce of guilt or shame, but not smile or stare back too long— because that would be out of character. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

The gleam passing his gaze is damn near unnerving, adjusting your face side to side as if he’s inspecting for damage. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

The most you give him is a barely noticeable shake of your head, gaze lowered to your lap, nothing too out of the ordinary..

Jeno leans over the space between you, turning your gaze back to him, digits spread out along your jaw for more control. “I think..”

He presses closer, forehead connecting to yours leaving just an inch of space between your nose and lips. Lips that left behind their moisture and shine on another man, a mouth that you fear may still carry remnants of his taste. “My teddy..”

Jeno’s lips graze yours enough to hitch your breath, shutting the seam of your mouth shut. That doesn’t stop him from cupping your face, overtaking power and pushing your lips forward with the pressure of his palms squeezing you in. “You are starting to like me more than you realize.”

He kisses the swell of your pout, biting his lower lip for a second to admire how swollen and worn your mouth looks; as if someone has sucked on the fleshy fat roughly. Someone reckless who could give a shit about you. “Or at least more than you’re ready to admit.”

Jeno lets go, leaving you gasping for breath as he sits back and studies your reaction. “Kiss me.”

It’s not a question, it’s not even a demand, he’s too relaxed. It’s expectant, because you’ll listen to him, if you know what’s good for you; and you do.

There’s no way to crawl between the front seats without it being awkward, having to reach for Jeno’s thigh to keep yourself sturdy. He huffs to mask a laugh, turning away when you direct your pout toward his lips. “Kiss me the way you really want to.”

He knows you don’t want to, but he doesn’t know why; and maybe that’s where your guilt stems from because you can still taste Haechan between your teeth; and the pink flush spread across his mouth stirs a need up from your stomach to your chest.

“Go on.” Jeno’s head rests against his seat, eyebrows raised waiting. You manage to slip onto his lap after banging your knee into the cup holder, gripping onto his shoulders to align your weight onto his crotch. The same way he likes to hold you in the evening while playing games with your head laid on his chest.

Jeno kisses you everyday, he kisses you. You could trace the shape of his lips with your eyes shut at this point, subconsciously you even notice whenever he reapplies chapstick from the light menthol scent and taste alone.

There’s something you’ve noticed over time as you lean in and breathe out nervously across his impatient mouth. Jeno never looks away first, he watches for your response to everything, silently analyzing the tiniest smallest movements. He has to, because you give him nothing, and he does it well. Even now with your eyes falling shut too nervous to look at him up close, he stays tuned in to your bottom lip trembling, the little twitch between your eyebrows and how much your hands shake while gliding up to his neck.

This shouldn’t feel like your first kiss with him, not after everything, but it does. You are the one in control for once and you’re the one applying pressure. Taking time to feel out just how soft his lips actually are when they aren’t roughly prying your mouth open to shove his tongue inside. The tightness beneath your palms even seems to relax the more you move between top and bottom lip, gently sucking and pulling them between yours.

Jeno doesn’t move, he even lets his hands rest by his thighs despite itching to gather your waist and grind you down against him. He wants to see how far you’ll go on your own, especially after today; because maybe you needed this time apart, albeit only a few hours, but maybe you needed to be alone to understand just how much you need him.

“I’m not a good kisser..” you finish with a light as a feather peck at the corner of his mouth, dropping your face embarrassed. “It’s better when you do it.”

Oh? He perks up at that, giving into his desire with hands encompassing your waist. “You are good, you just..”

He rubs up and down your sides, letting out a long sigh while looking you over. “You don’t like me, right?” Jeno bites down a smile, nodding to himself. He knows you’d pour your soul into a kiss with Haechan, you probably dream of some ridiculously romantic rekindling of your relationship with some ridiculous scenario: fixing all the damage with one kiss..

“That’s not it—“

“You don’t.” He nods again, an accepting nod.

And it’s okay, because you still have hope, somehow you still have so much hope that Haechan will save you from this. That your stupid childhood first love still carries you deep within his heart the way you always have, because you have so much good left inside of you in spite of every obstacle put in your way. Jeno likes that, that’s why he befriended Haechan in the first place, because good people are rare to come by.

But Haechan is not a good person anymore, and soon enough your spark will die out too.

“It’s not that Jeno..”

“Let’s get inside, I ordered takeout, should be here soon.” He says with an ordering pat pat pat against your hip, unlocking his door for you to exit first. “You hardly touched your lunch today.”

“Is it okay if I take a shower first?” Having to ask makes your stomach churn, mumbling behind the tips of your fingers finding their way back between your teeth to bite down on your nails.

“Stop doing that.” Jeno gently pries your wrists away, opening the door to his bedroom. “You never shower until after we fuck.”

“Like I said.. the air conditioning..”

Jeno eyes you skeptically, huffing and grinning. “You think I’ll care if you smell a little?” He’s back on you, encasing your waist as he bends in to drag his nose along your throat. “I think you smell sweet.”

“It’s not that.. I just feel gross.”

And you do, you feel extremely gross. More disgusted with yourself than you’ve ever felt after allowing Jeno to defile you. The more you try to push away what you’ve just done, the more unsettled you feel by all of it.

“You wanna change?” He places a light kiss upon your cheekbone, moving away to sit at his computer chair. “Grab whatever you want to wear. Don’t take too long though or your food will get cold.”

Part of you wants to stand there and argue, claim that you aren’t hungry despite the rumble your stomach gives at the mention of warm food; but a hot shower to wash away the remnants of Haechan’s spit and other fluids depletes any will to bother Jeno any longer.

“Are you sure?” You ask, skimming over the drawers lined up against the other side of his bedroom.

Jeno hums, already logging on to play league and waving you off. “Yeah, wear whatever.”

Showering in his bathroom had become very standard, like he said you typically prefer to after the act, but today’s different of course. His bathroom is much nicer than the community one shared by multiple people at your shitty studio complex. The studio you rarely spend much time living in anymore ever since Jeno forced his way into your life.

There is something inside of you that sighs out of relief under the shower stream, stretching your arms out and up high freely, enjoying the quality of bath soaps and shower gels he keeps stocked. Jeno always smells nice, fresh and clean, not smokey and suffocating the way Haechan did..

The memory of his luxurious musky scent has your palms traveling lower, reaching for the shower head to thoroughly clean away any possible trace of him left behind between your legs.

Jeno would go ballistic if he knew.. you aren’t even sure how he’d react, and you don’t want to find out.

“Food’s here?” You ask quietly, still drying your hair by the bathroom door connected to Jeno’s bedroom. He takes a minute to answer, engulfed in the game playing across his computer screen.

“Just got here.” Jeno says, hitting pause to look at you. His lips loosen, jaw opening as he gazes from your feet taking short steps forward to your bare legs and his pink hoodie hanging past your hips. “Wow.”

“What?” You pause, looking yourself over nervously. He said to pick whatever you want to wear, you even double checked with him. He can’t be mad right? Maybe this is his favorite hoodie and now—

Jeno’s eyes soften, scanning up and down your figure as he reaches out and rolls his seat forward to grab your hips. “You look really cute.”

“Oh..” heat drives up your neck, lowering your eyes to look away from the pleased smile that tugs at his lips.

“I should make you wear my clothes more often.” Jeno squeezes up your sides, drawing the fabric to follow his touch and lift over your hips. “Come here.”

Leaning back, he motions for you to climb onto his lap, a bag of steaming hot food sits at the corner of his desk waiting. “But the food..”

He lifts one groomed eyebrow, responding with a silent command to do as he says before he makes you regret it.

“We’ll eat first.” Jeno wraps an arm around your stomach, tugging your back to press against his chest as he reaches for the bag. “Put on whatever you want to watch.”

It’s times like this in his bedroom, as you ease into his hold and pout when he swirls noodles around a fork to feed you with that you can’t help but to feel something.

Something you can’t bring yourself to accept, because that would make him right about everything..

That’s what makes it harder to eat, harder to sit still and let yourself grow too comfortable, harder to laugh when something funny happens on the TV show you chose.

Jeno can’t win, even if he continues to prod your mouth with another spoonful of rice, and softly smiles before licking away a piece from the corner of your mouth. “You’re so cute.” He mumbles, pushing the boxes of food aside. “Turn around.”

“Do we have to?”

Large palms run up your thighs, squeezing as they find a way between your legs to the fleshy meat lined along the outsides of your groin. “You’re cute, but don’t test me.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･

Jeno’s been extra clingy ever since that day he had to leave earlier. You can’t say you hate it.. and maybe it gives you an excuse for why Haechan’s been completely avoidant, not looking at you once. You wanted to wave at him, say hi as you passed each other, but with thick biceps belted around you at all times you knew better.

He could just be ignoring you because of Jeno.

He could just be ignoring you because he doesn’t give a shit.

“Really do hate that I have to spend the next hour and a half without you.” Jeno sighs sadly, kissing your cheek. “Fucking hate Philosophy too.”

“It’s just one class.”

“One class that’s stealing precious time I could be spending with my girlfriend.”

There he goes again, that bullshit title he keeps using. It’s almost worse than his constant love bombs. “Second bells about to ring.” You mumble, shoving his arms off.

“Yeah yeah, I know you can’t wait to get away from me.” He pouts, leaning against the door frame, glancing behind you at the area he knows you often set up at. Eyes squinting as he observes one of your classmates. “I’ll be here when you’re done. Be good.”

Or else.

The silent haunting echo follows you to your seat, apprehensively setting your bag down with a subtle peak toward the door to make sure he’s gone.

“How’s the research going?”

A deep voice startles you, jumping up and dropping your belongings. “Crap.”

“Ah, that’s my bad.” He crouches down before you’re even squatted halfway, long hands reaching to gather your brushes and pencils. “Was just asking how the papers going. I really think we should get together to make sure we’re both on the same page. I don’t want you to hate me if we get a bad grade..”

“Get together?!” You splurt out abruptly, coughing on choked spit. “Outside of class??”

The thing is, Jeno didn’t really know about Jisung Park. Why would he? He’s not in this class.

He didn’t know that part of the reason you loved this class so much wasn’t because he’s not in it. No(although that helps). It’s because from the first day you noticed Jisung sitting quietly free-hand drawing beautifully, you wanted to compliment his sketches, get to know him better; ask if he’s always had an interest in art..

But you didn’t, instead you shyly hid your face and looked away whenever he’d glance around. Sure, maybe you happened to notice how attractive he is too, but that didn’t matter to you. It’s not like you had a crush on him or anything..

And it’s not like your stomach exploded with butterflies as everyone paired off for your final project for the semester, leaving you nervously taking steps back and forth looking for anyone available.

Jisung approached you first, asking quietly and shyly. ‘Do you have a partner yet?’

That’s how you ended up here, your norm for the last week being to sit by him during class so you could exchange ideas and work on your final project together.

And that crush you didn’t have ended up becoming very very real. Jisung.. he’s nice, really nice. Genuine and thoughtful, he always asks how your days been, if you have any plans later on, tries to get to know you with curious and non-invasive questions.

It’s easy to bond over your love and appreciation for art, and he thought it was cool that you once dreamed of illustrating mangas(until capitalism and reality set in). He sparked light around the dark corners you hide in. Your secret, something only for you, something Jeno couldn’t ruin or touch..

“Yeah. You can come over to my place tonight? My parents both work late hours so we shouldn’t have any interruptions.”

An invite to his place, where you’d be alone. Only the two of you, no Jeno..

“Your place? Tonight?”

“Yeah? If that’s okay with you?” Jisung smiles apprehensively, reaching to scratch at his sideburn. “I’d like to keep my perfect GPA intact.. it’s okay if you can’t, I don’t mind completing the bulk of it myself.”

“No no, that’s not fair.” You wave him off, biting at your nail. “I’ll uhm, yeah—no, yeah, I’m free later. Write down your address.” Sliding him your notebook, you reach for your phone to text Jeno under your desk. This is for school, for your perfect GPA.. he needs to be understanding.

Jisung perks up and scribbles down where you can meet him after school, clapping his hands together. “I’ll set some snacks out for us, I’m sure we’ll be working hours into the evening.”

Hours into the evening.. Jeno won’t like that.

Jeno doesn’t like that. Immediately shooting down your messages with a flat out ‘no’.

It came down to begging, explaining to him on the way to your next class how important this extracurricular course is for your future internship applications, even your counselor said that. It’s not a good look if you only excel in your non-creative courses, unless you plan to apply for a job that requires zero social interaction and teamwork.

‘Good luck with that.’ Your counselor mumbled, signing you up for this art class in the first place.

“The whole purpose of being here is for you to finish partnered work here.” Jeno snaps, shaking his head. “Who’s your partner anyway?! Why haven’t you mentioned this until now??”

“We only barely received the project yesterday!” You lie, looking at anything else but him. “My partner.. Hani!” Thinking fast you blurt out the first classmate you can think of, praying to yourself that Jeno doesn’t know her.

“Hani?” He repeats, seeming pleased to hear a girl's name. “And what time are you supposed to meet?”

It took further convincing, a little bit of bribery, maybe you skipped Yoga to suck him off in the bathroom. But it worked, Jeno seemed at ease after hearing that your classmate Hani was counting on this project to keep her grades up. Your scholarship requirements too, sure.

“Call me when you’re done.” He says, parking on another street nearby you’d given him directions to, just in case..

“Of course.. it might be late.”

Jeno grumbles, leaning over to kiss you until your lips feel bruised and tender. He kisses like it could be the last time he’ll ever see you, but that never makes you react. He always kisses like that..

“Love you.”

You nod, stepping out and waving him off, letting him know that Hani takes the bus home and you’ll have to wait a few minutes longer. He seems hesitant to drive off at first, only finally taking off out of the street when his dad calls him about something.

Phew.

Panic and fear get shoved down as you make your way to Jisung’s actual address. You shouldn’t be this nervous, it’s just a project..

With your crush, alone, together, only the two of you. That’s why you stand at the front door to his house for a while, shifting from foot to foot, playing with the strings of your backpack.

Jeno would be really mad if he found out about this. What would be worse? Lying? Or Jisung? There’s no way he would have allowed for you to come here alone, without him. Lying was your only option..

Taking a deep breath, you reach for the doorbell, gasping as it flies open immediately.

“You made it!” He smiles, toeing off his shoes, still wearing the same outfit from earlier. “I just got in myself, had to jump the backyard fence because I must have dropped my key, sorry. Were you waiting long?”

“Oh no.. it’s fine.” You mumble, passing through and removing your shoes quietly. He seems even taller now, walking next to him in nothing but socks.

“You must be hungry, let’s raid the pantry real fast before heading to my room.”

His room, you’ll be alone in his room..

Jisung’s a couple of years younger than you, and it’s evident when you step inside of his bedroom and take in the different toys he has scattered about; moving around to throw his jacket over a pile of stuffed animals displayed in one corner.

“Shall we?” He says, motioning to sit at his desk, dropping the bags of chips and cookies he found. “I’ve already wrapped up the bulk of writing, and cited everything, we just have to go over key points for our presentation.”

“Oh, that’s great. Thank you for doing all of that.” You smile, sensing heat rise up to your cheeks. His parents must not use the air conditioning much..

He snorts breathily, shrugging. “You seem really busy, with your boyfriend and all..”

“He’s not my boyf—he’s,” trailing off, you shake your head and grab your notes. “Let’s focus on this so we can try to finish early.”

“You’re always with him..” Jisung sits up awkwardly, playing with his knuckles. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed anything. You’re right, let’s uhm, get to work.

To your surprise Jeno doesn’t blow up your phone with texts, and you think about his dad again. He never did tell you what happened that day.. he should share personal things with you if he expects you to start trusting him. To build some solid type of relationship with him. The skin around your nails practically screams and begs to be left alone as you bring your fingers up to your mouth and begin to bite at anything you can find. He should have texted you by now..

“Something wrong?” Jisung asks, ruffling his fluffy black hair. “You seem a little distracted.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“We’ve been working for two hours,” he nods, setting down his pen and organizing what you’ve finished so far. “Let’s take a break, I can really use one too.”

A break? Your eyes widen, following his figure as he stands and stretches his arms up, tight shirt lifting up his stomach halfway giving your curious gaze a real show. “Come on, our brains are probably in overdrive after a day of classes and now this, you should lay down for a bit.”

Lay down?!

Motioning to his bed, he smiles and directs you to follow with his chin. “Come on, I won’t bite.” He says sitting down, patting the empty space next to him.

Oh, but you might.

Stealing one more glance at your phone, you set it screen down on his desk, getting up and pretending to yawn. “You’re right.. sometimes I don’t know when to stop.”

Jisung laughs lightly, falling back and letting out a long sigh. “Me too, my grades mean a lot to me. I’m trying to get an internship this summer at Lee Corp.”

“No way!” You say excitedly, staying sat up on his bed and leaning on your palm to look at him. “I am too! Which program are you going for?”

“Engineer of course, they pay the best out of everyone in the country. Did you read that Forbes article? Haechan’s father must be a genius.”

You hum, brushing off the comment about Haechan, he’s the last person you want to talk about right now. “I was thinking about Global Affairs.. I really think a lot of their apps could expand and excel in foreign countries.”

Jisung laughs, smiling up his eyes, clasping his hands together on his stomach. “Look at us trying to relax.. we still end up talking about work.”

“I guess you’re right.. I’m not the best at, uh, relaxing?”

Jisung sits up on his elbows, eyebrows lifted as he looks at you. “I could.. make some suggestions.”

“Uhhh..”

He lets out an awkward laugh, turning onto his side and scratching his neck. “Sorry, that was lame. It’s just uhm, since you said you don’t have a boyfriend, I’ve been thinking..”

Shit.

He sucks in his thick pink bottom lip, biting down nervously. “I’ve always thought you were real cute, but you’re always with that guy so I kept my distance.”

“You, y-you did?” You stammer, clearing your throat and sitting up straight. “Ah, that’s—that’s nice. I mean, thank you.”

Jisung sits up, long bangs falling into his eyes as he tilts and stares at you in a way you’ve never had anyone look at you. There’s softness in his gaze, exposing his teeth as he leans closer to your face, huffing under his breath. “I’m not good at this, but I’d really like to kiss you right now..”

Kiss?!?

“Is that okay?” There’s a tremble in his voice, dipping in closer until your noses are less than an inch apart.

No. It’s not okay. You shouldn’t even be here right now. But isn’t it okay? Aren’t you in this relationship with Jeno against your will? Hasn’t Haechan been ignoring you for days? This could be your only chance at something normal.. someone who actually likes you for you.

Jisung’s heart looks damn near ready to break judging by the way his pout begins to droop, it’s instinct to rectify what you’ve caused that has you pressing forward; the first to brush your lips together. He lets a staggered breath free, moving to cup around your throat to deepen the kiss. It’s soft, nice, slow enough that you can process and absorb every small caress of your lips against his.

“I really..” he sighs out a laugh, tapping the end of his nose to yours. “Could help you relax..”

You deserve this, right? Why even question it? You like him, he likes you, and a part of you fully expected(or wanted) this to happen.

“Okay..”

Maybe the soft innocence radiating off of him is moreso the difference in your age. But there’s something about the way Jisung gently lays you down and places a pillow beneath your head. He kisses you again, and again, and again, slowly working your mouth open to allow his tongue to roam freely and explore.

It’s nice and calm without overstimulating your arousal, not until his fingers trace along your throat, pulling back with a smile that asks for permission.

Assuming he expects more you squirm anxiously, helping him slide his hand lower down your stomach to the button of your jeans. “Can I?” He asks, again, always checking in to confirm you’re okay with his next move.

You help him by shimmying out of your jeans, allowing for his hand to dip inside of your underwear as you continue to kiss and arch up at the first graze of long thick fingers swiping between your folds. His hands are warm, movements fluid and practiced, collecting the wad of wetness at your entrance to rub over your clit and begin stimulating your nerves. You can’t help to think- this is how it’s supposed to be, getting to know your body first with soft strokes, feeling the different parts of you to learn what gets you off.

“Wanna eat you out.” Jisung whispers against your mouth, trailing two digits lower to press against your hole. “Wanna taste.”

You nod eagerly, much too eagerly, kicking your jeans off to the floor, lifting your hips to invite him inside. He rubs circles around your entrance teasingly, tapping a few times before pulling out to sit up on his knees and tug off his shirt.

Jisung may be younger, but his body’s built nothing short of a man. Muscles line his stomach, arms firm and flexed as he pushes off his pants and climbs back onto the bed in nothing but a snuggly fit pair of boxer briefs. He pushes your top up under your breasts, hands large enough to hide the base of your stomach when they lay flat on top of you and begin to slide down to your underwear. “Like your panties..” he whispers, leaning down to trace the rose on your mound, making your hips twitch.

He likes them enough to not even take them off, laying down on his stomach to drag his nose down the damp seat of your panties. God Jeno would never— stop thinking about him. Stop saying what he’d do, he doesn’t exist. Jisung’s the one between your thighs, collecting your underwear to one side and taking a deep breath. “You’re just as pretty down here..”

His deep voice makes your toes curl against the bed, bending your knees up to grant him more access. “Can I touch?”

Nodding eagerly, you lift your hips again for him to push your folds apart, groaning as his thumb presses to your clit. “Like it when I do that?”

“Yes.. use your mouth..”

Jisung groans, half whimpering, tucking his face lower between your thighs. Thick lips suction around your clit, sucking the nub between and flicking his tongue out. His slow polite manners dissipate the more he ruts against his bed and sucks around your bundle of nerves. “Taste as good as you look.” He murmurs, long tongue dragging down to your tight hole to lap inside.

“You’re getting real wet.” He breathes out, cursing. Ducking back down to lick a fat stripe from your contracting wet hole to your clit. His tongue laves between your folds, spilling saliva and wetness across each, dipping his tongue in and out. He suckles on your clit, big hands splayed on your inner thighs pushing them further open to jam his tongue deeper inside.

You need more, fingers twitch midair before reaching into his hair and scratching at his scalp. “More!”

Jisung growls, shoving his face in until his nose digs against your bundle of nerves, panting against your opening with his tongue flicking against your inner walls.

He pulls back to glide two fingers inside, taking the chance to tug firmly on his scalp and shake your head. “Do y-you have a condom?”

Surprise paints his delicate face, appearing obscene with your arousal hanging from his chin. He nods quickly and jumps from the bed to slam open his bedside drawer and pull out a wad of protection. “I have a ton!” He scurries back onto the bed and grabs onto your knees, wide-eyed and dazed. “I mean.. do you want to?”

“Mhm..” you nod, sitting up to kiss up his neck, ripping the packet open and shoving your hand inside of his briefs.

You wish he would shut up just a little, favoring the breathy whines and whimpered moans he lets out when you finally wrap around his length and slide down the condom.

Jisung kisses you again, sucking on your bottom lip until it swells, licking across the fronts of your teeth. He lowers you back down comfortably and shoves his boxers down, length jumping up and slapping against his stomach.

“Y-you’re not like..” Jisung stutters, laughing to himself as he positions to line his cock up to your cunt. “Like a virgin?”

This is why you wish he’d shut up, gritting your teeth before forcing a smile. “Of course not.”

“Ah, figured.. wanted to be sure.” He takes a deep breath and cups your hips, inching forward slowly. “If it hurts—“

“I’ll let you know.”

It stings a little once he’s sheathed in half deep, he’s big, most of all thick. But the pain feels familiar, something you crave now..

“Come on.” You encourage, lifting your hips to fuck the rest of his length inside. “Fuck me, come on.”

Jisung gasps, long and choked, falling forward and catching himself by grabbing onto your shoulders. He watches your hips cant up for a minute, literally riding his cock, pussy slapping against his pelvis.

“Fuck, oh my God..” he croons, sounding out of breath already.

“Fuck me!” You beg, clinging onto his waist to scratch your nails down his flat tight stomach. “Please please, fuck me.”

Jisung snaps, nodding furiously as he crawls forward on his knees and hooks your thighs over his hips, throwing his hips into action to ram inside of you faster.

“Yeah yeah, just like that!” You whine, fucking him back to make him match your speed.

His hands reach for your waist, slamming in harder until you’re gurgling and writhing in his hold. Cock sliding in and out so wet and deep, the pain completely gone, only receiving pleasure with each meet of your hips.

It’s still missing something, something that has you reaching between your bodies to pinch your clit between two fingers. Nodding and panting for him to keep going. “S-so close.”

His palms land flat around the sides of your head, gripping the bedding in tight fists, using the leverage to drop his hips down faster. Fuck his cock in deeper and harder.

The sight of him above you, pale, muscular, black hair in his face, it’s enough to drift your mind away somewhere else. Shutting your eyes as heat burns up from your gut to your chest. Clit gone numb from your ferocious rubs, you twitch and cry out. The squeeze slowing him down as you clamp around him and begin to cum.

“Yesyesyes!” Through your blurry vision you can see him crumbling on top of you. Forcing his cock in past your tight heat, if not for how pitchy his moans sing out you’d swear..

“Ah, I’m c-cumming! I’m cu-cumming!” Jisung’s face tightens up, kissing the backs of his teeth. Hips locked in place, cock twitching as he fills up the condom with warmth. He pants and hangs his head between his shoulders, hips circling on more time before pulling out slowly. An audible pop resounds once he’s emptied you, flopping onto the bed by your side, stripping the condom off to give his dick a break for a moment, he throws it aside and lays back catching his breath. “No better way to relax than that..”

You wish you could say the same, already seeking your nails to chew on. That couldn’t have been too long, right? You need to check your phone, Jeno could have surely hunted you down by now if you’d even taken longer than a minute to respond. Maybe he’s really trying to respect your boundaries for once. Either way, you need to get out of here.

Tip toeing on to his bedroom floor, you step back into your clothes, quietly gathering your things to not wake him. Waking him could lead to conversation and more time you’d have to spend here..

There’s something you can only describe as guilt infiltrating your mostly pleased thoughts. Sneaking out of Jisung’s house was easy, scribbling off a note quickly that you’d see him at school later.

Jeno could be waiting outside where he dropped you off, you told him not to.. but he worries about you a lot. He’s always worried about you, it’s nice actually. It’s nice how much he cares about you, hell.. he checks in on you more than even your own parents.

God. What the hell are you thinking? Who cares if he worries about you. He’s a fucking psycho is what he is. Why are you even thinking about him right now? After everything that’s happened.

Jisung’s really nice, he’s really smart, seems to have a good head on his shoulders. Yet Jeno.. Jeno feels like an infection you can’t find the cure for at this point. He’s everywhere, every time you shut your eyes, whenever you wake up, he’s the first person you think about, the first person you want to see.

This is ridiculous, you’re just tired, that’s it. Too tired to wait for Jeno to come get you. It’ll be best to take the bus back to your studio today, he’d probably make you go home with him and keep you up way too late. His bed may be nicer than yours, sure. His bathroom an actual personal bathroom, and as your ‘boyfriend’ he always makes sure you’re well fed. The grumble your stomach lets out doesn’t go unnoticed, ignoring it as you pick up your phone to shoot off a text message.

‘Really tired. Heading home. See you in the morning.’

Reading over your text before sending it, you chew at dry skin around your nails, dropping your hand quickly as if Jeno’s slapped it down again. He always does, reprimands you whenever you bite your nails or rip the dead skin off with your teeth. He does it because he cares about you, right?

Fuck him. Seriously fuck that asshole.

Pressing your thumb down earnestly, you send the text and shut your phone off, bringing your thumb up to your lip to rip off an annoying piece of skin.

“Shit.” You hiss, shaking off your hand. More came off, opening a wound and stinging around the cuticle. Shining with red blood that rushed to fill up the divots around your nail bed.

Jeno would probably glare at you, raise your thumb to his mouth to suck on. He’d make it hurt less..

Brushing those thoughts aside, you pocket your fingers and tighten your jacket, making your way toward the nearest bus stop. He won’t like that you turned off your phone, he won’t like that you took public transport home instead of waiting for him, he doesn’t like anything really.

Except you..

It’s been a long while since you’ve taken the bus home, and it’s late, mostly empty. It’s hard to not notice a couple curled up in one of the two seaters, laughing at something on a phone together. Sometimes you watch things with Jeno, and you try to keep your amusement at bay, you try to emit nothing other than misery, but it’s become something you secretly look forward to these days..

Why do you keep thinking about him? What if Jisung’s texting you? Glancing at your blacked out phone screen, you wonder if he is, he could be.. Jisung seems to like you. He seems normal..

Normal could be nice.

Normal.

Why can’t you and Jeno be normal? What if you are?

Coming home alone without him by your side seems odd now. This isn’t normal anymore, this isn’t your normal anymore.

Jeno is your normal.

As you crawl into bed and take a deep sigh, you can’t help but to wrap yourself up tighter, curl up into a more fettle helpless position, and you can’t stop the tears that erupt from your eyes until they blur your vision and make your head pound.

He should be here, he should be here to keep you safe and warm, but he’s not, and nothing feels normal anymore. ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･

One thing about Jeno you’ve noticed is that he is always on time. He’s extremely punctual, and if he’s not, he always, without fail, will make sure to alert you with a call or text.

Today’s different.

Because even when you turned your phone on this morning and rubbed sleepy dry tears from your swollen eyes, no notifications from Jeno appeared.

Jisung had sent a few messages, thanking you for a great time and hoping you made it home safe. The last text you sent Jeno hadn’t even been opened, and his read receipts have always been turned on for as long as you’ve known him..

He’ll show up outside of your complex at 8 o’clock on the dot as usual. Maybe he forgot to charge his phone(that’s unlike him).

But 8am comes around, and his car doesn’t round the corner, and minutes tick by, and he doesn’t show up. Each glance at your phone screen feels more like a plea for something, silently begging for a text or call to appear. Something to indicate he’s on his way, maybe traffic is heavier than usual today..

‘Hey. I’m waiting outside.’

You never add emojis. Keep messages as short and simple as you can. It would come across as too nice, too weird given the dynamic of your relationship, but that doesn’t stop your thumb from hovering over a smiley face before hitting send. Shaking it off, you watch the minutes go by, nursing the cut up cuticle you ripped off last night between your lips. If you don’t leave soon to catch the bus you’ll be late.

One more minute, you’ll wait one more minute before running to catch the next bus.

‘Is everything okay?’

What if he got into an accident? Did Jeno even make it home yesterday after dropping you off? What if he’s in a hospital bed somewhere, disfigured, all alone without anyone to keep him company? What are you even thinking right now?!

It doesn’t calm your nerves a bit that he hasn’t opened a single text message you’ve sent. Doesn’t help as you cram onto a crowded bus and worry your thumb down to raw skin, biting every little piece you can get your teeth on. Doesn’t help that you can’t stop glancing at your phone, envisioning each terrible outcome.

He’ll be at school, he’ll be waiting at your lockers and walk you to class, sit by your side as usual. Throw out an assload of compliments that piss you off, stare at you and play with your hair. It’s fine, everything is fine, he’s a good driver. How could he possibly get into an accident? Jeno? Never.

But he’s not waiting at your lockers, even as you stand around longer peering up and down the hallway for him to show up. You can’t ask anyone if they’ve seen him either, it’s not like you know anyone to ask.

He’s not in your first class, doesn’t show up for second period, or third, and your phone never once dings with a new notification.

Even as your names are called out to grab attendance and you silently pray he’ll appear at the classroom door out of breath, finding your surprised gaze on him. A huge smile will stretch his cheeks into a bundle of wrinkles, eyes disappearing when he meets yours.

But that doesn’t happen, and in a panic you send off a slew of text messages, biting your nails down to nothing but raw skin.

‘Is everything okay Jeno? Did your phone die?’

‘I’m at school. Should I meet you for lunch somewhere?’

‘Are you sick?’

There’s no way to explain the fear clawing at your chest, the rumble in your stomach, the ache that pangs through your heart. It’s not because you care about him, he doesn’t deserve that from you, not even out of human decency. But maybe, just maybe, you are worried, because Jeno’s face has become such a normal part of your daily life. His light touches, a gaze that never loses sight of you, a powerful aura that wraps you up behind an invisible shield that makes you feel safe. As insane as it feels to even contemplate, you can’t help it.

He’s a disease, streaming through your blood, destroying all of your white blood cells and leaving you with no option other than to rely on him to survive. Some may even consider that love, if you think about it.

He sought you out in the first place, didn’t he? Took notice of something special in you that clearly no one else does. Like right now as you walk to your locker, head hung low, no one cares. No one’s looking at you, no one notices you or sees you. They always see you when Jeno’s by your side. He’s the bright light that illuminates around you, and you? You’re nothing.

Jeno made you something though. He made you his.

How hasn’t he replied yet?!? What the hell is his problem! You’d scream if you could, that’s how desperate you feel, not even a god damn text? Nothing?!

You could always leave.. take the bus to his house. It’s possible he is severely injured after all, his parents might not even have a clue. It’s the least you can do, at least inform them that their son’s on his deathbed because of a horrific accident. Because that’s the only logical explanation you can fathom for why he hasn’t attempted to contact you even once since yesterday. It’s your fault too, if he really got into a bad car wreck after dropping you off. Yeah, you should definitely take the rest of the day off, it’s the right thing to do..

Adding speed to your steps, you rush toward your locker to grab your bag, prying it open quickly and nearly missing the folded note that slips out. A note.. with very familiar handwriting. A note in your locker after all this time, exactly like the ones you used to receive..

‘It’s been awhile hasn’t it angel? I haven’t felt the need to speak to you like this in such a long time now it seems. We have grown so close now, there are times I catch your gaze wandering away from me. I realize in those moments how much I’ve truly given up for you.

I lost my friends, carry guilt on my back of getting caught; that Haechan will find the courage to snitch me out.. The chance of my father disowning me for ruining his one chance to free himself from this impoverishment. In those moments I know you look away silently praying for someone to save you, when really, it’s been me all along.

I’ve only ever wanted to save you because you deserve better than this. I’m waiting for you, I know you’re smart enough to find your way.

-Your Teddy Bear’

This has to be a sick joke, you fully believe this has to be a sick joke; but your lip twitches, your tongue presses to the fronts of your teeth, and you can feel moisture itching at the backs of your eyes.

Jeno hadn’t picked you up today, he never sent a message to explain why. The last he’d spoken with you was on the car ride over to Jisung’s, and even then you never said much. He hadn’t said much either if you really think back, stay silent for most of the drive.

The last place you want to revisit is room 0423 after that day.

‘I’m waiting for you.’

Stoic and zombie-like your feet drag through the halls finding your way to the abandoned sector of the school. Because he’s waiting, and like a fool you’ve been waiting for him too.

You couldn’t process a thought, mindless as you found your way in front of the door that read 0423 before you. At this point there isn’t much else Jeno can pull to surprise you. Probably planning a setup of some sort to commemorate the day he met you, since it matters to him so much.

“Don’t act shy and stand out there forever, I’m waiting.” His voice echoes through the small opening, leaving the door cracked enough for you to know to come inside.

Everything appears to be the same as you remember, other than the giant teddy bear Jeno gifted you sitting at the teacher's table, his back facing you from where he sits on one of the student desks at the front row.

“Took you long enough to show up. I expected you’d be sick to your stomach without me, buried with your face in a porcelain bowl. Although, I must say, your messages have been quite entertaining.” Jeno begins to speak, his back muscles flexing as he laughs sarcastically. His neck bends forward, nodding to himself. “I won’t lie, I didn’t expect even that much from you. I dare say, you seemed frantic, worried even..”

“Why did you want me to come back here?” You ask softly, inching closer to where he sits. Jeno listens to the sound of your sneakers drag against the linoleum floor, he listens to your calm breath, he listens to your nails scratch by on each desk you pass, and he smiles stiffly.

“You really think I’m stupid, don’t you?” Jeno’s teeth grit, fisting a remote control in his grip. He stands up abruptly in a way that startles you. Instinctively lifting your fists to cover your face as you gasp. Rolling his eyes, he grips onto a curtain near the corner covering up an old school television, and he turns to face you.

If looks could kill, you know that you’d be laid out on the floor bleeding out right now. He bores into you with a laser sharp gaze, slicing through your chest with a level of intensity he’s kept calm for weeks.

“Answer me.”

Jeno’s throat shakes, his knuckles saturated in white, cuts of blood red and hues of pink from punching who knows what or who.. and for a quick second you think he may cry as he rapidly blinks away moisture that’s teetering at the brims of his eyes.

“No Jeno.. I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“I’ve never liked when you lie.” He nods, sniffling loud and hitting play. “You always look dead behind the eyes when you lie, did you know that? Because even you know that deep down inside no matter how much you hate me, lying isn’t your style.”

The black tv screen illuminates, a dim video of sheets that make your eyes squint, familiar..

“Is that—“ the camera zooms out before you can even speculate, cutting off your breath. “N-no—there’s no wa—“

Jeno sneers, dragging the back of his hand across his eyes and nose. He turns the volume up until your pleasured moans resound throughout the classroom, cascading down the walls and your frame like lashings. The camera doesn’t bother to focus on Jisung once, zoomed in on your face, your mouth hung open, the lines formed between your eyebrows.

“H-how..” bile rises up your throat, stepping back until your butt meets the ledge of a desk. There’s no way Jeno could have known, how HOW could he—

“I know what you’re thinking.” He says smoothly, the tears dried up and gone. Spinning on one foot to face you and waved the remote in your direction. “You thought he really liked you, right?”

“N-no it’s n-not that—“

“What did I tell you about lying?” He grite, placating you with a cold hard stare. “I could have saved us the trouble of dealing with any of this. I knew from the second I saw you talking to him in class, I knew from that moment. You looked so happy.” He scoffs, head shaking, pausing the video. “You looked so fucking happy and hopeful, the same way you looked when I saw you talking to Haechan in the library before.”

He takes a deep dramatic breath, tossing the remote aside, arms free to cross over his chest and lock you in place with one of the most fear-inducing looks you’ve ever seen. “You never look at me like that. You never even tell me that you love me, and you pretend..” Jeno shifts back, turning his body away from you. “You pretend to hate me.”

Everything inside of you screams to say something, to tell him that he’s wrong, that you do hate him. But there’s that pain in your chest again, the one that feels worse than any pain you’ve ever felt, worse than when Haechan moved away and slowly forgot about you. Worse than when he ignored you after you had sex..

It’s a pain that only Jeno can pull out of you. It’s denial, hate, love, anger, fear, obsession, worry, and right now, that pain fills you with terror. He knows, and more than worrying about what he’ll do to you, you can’t stop the tears from flowing out at the thought of losing him.

“I-I’m sorr—“

“Stop.” He snaps quickly, fully turning away and motioning to the classroom stock closet. “You can come out now.”

Through your bleary vision, you see him come out, big smile, broad and tall. Cocky as he clasp hands with Jeno and shoots you a wink over his shoulder. “You’ll send me a copy too, right?”

“Get the fuck out.” Jeno jeers, crashing his shoulder into Jisung’s side. “Good job though, the money should be in your account.”

“Yeah of course man, anytime.” He smirks before turning to face you, winking as he makes way to pass by you. “And you, I really did have a good time last night.” He leans it quickly to whisper. “If this weird shit you have going on doesn’t work out, you know where to find me.”

“Please…please!” You stammer, feeling overwhelmed and overheated the longer you have to listen to yourself get fucked through all of this. Every bit of confusion struggles to clear as your mind rages and grows heavy, painfully beating through your skull. “Turn it off! Please!”

Jeno snickers, ripping the TV’s power cord out. “Not that you deserve peace of mind right now.” He mumbles, petting the teddy bear he gifted you on your anniversary. “What were you thinking?”

“I..”

What were you thinking??? Obviously you were thinking that your classmate who you’ve secretly had a small liking for may have a small liking for you in return. There’s nothing else to say, you fell right into Jenoms trap, you always will..

“Don’t answer that.” He says, turning toward you with an unrelenting penetrating gaze. “I know what you were thinking. I always know what you’re thinking.”

He steps closer, trapping you against the desk holding your weight up. Weakness takes over your ankles and knees, dropping head head to hang, too ashamed to even look at him. More embarrassed than ashamed.. why should you feel ashamed?

“You thought a guy like that could seriously like you? What’s it going to take for you to learn this lesson?” Jeno continues, voice cutting deep and sharp. “No one here will ever like you except me. Jisung may pity fuck you out of boredom, but he’d never bring a girl like you home. He’d never take you serious, he’ll never give a real fuck about you.”

“T-this whole time..” you stutter, biting down on your lip. “You k-knew this whole time.”

“Pft.” He bends in to meet you eye level, still standing straight to loom over your slouched frame. “I’m always watching you.”

Jeno’s tongue clicks, whistling lowly, taking a step back to snap his fingers in a sarcastic manner. “You know who else could give a shit about you? Haechan.” He nods, finding your red wet eyes. “Haechan who hasn’t acknowledged your existence ever since that day.”

“N-no..” tremors vibrate up your throat, gripping onto the desk beneath you to keep yourself up. “There’s no way..”

“I had a sliver of hope, you know?” He sighs, rubbing at his temples. “I thought maybe you finally understood that Haechan could give a fuck about whatever it is you used to have. That stupid childhood friendship you cherish and hold onto still.” He pauses to look at you, blinking glassy eyes away. “I can’t trust you, even after all that I do to prove to you that you belong with me.”

“This—this isn’t—“

“Haechan—he’ll never love you, he’ll never see you as anything more than some poor loser from his past.” He interrupts, hissing between his teeth. “Jisung, even fatter chance. I’ve explained this to you so many times now. When will you get it.”

“Why are you doing this to me?!” You screech, louder than you even thought possible. Tears rush towards your chin, digging your nails into the cheap old desk wood. “Why me?!?”

Jeno scoops your face, thumbing your wet cheeks softly, almost gently. His own eyes shake, pouring out from the corners. “Because.” He breathes in deep through his nose, wet voice coming out shattered. “I love you.”

I love you I love you I love you. Those three words repeat over and over again, a face full of anger turning into one you can hardly recognize anymore, fingers dug into your cheeks as if he can somehow force you to believe him this way. It hurts to watch more than anything, as Jeno crumbles and falls to his knees, arms wrapped tight around your hips screaming manically that he loves you.

He. Loves. You.

Haechan doesn’t love you, and a guy like Jisung could never love you..

He’s right. Jeno’s right. He’s been right from the very beginning. You could have listened, avoided all of this? The normalcy you wished to have with him, whatever that could have been.. if it ever could have been.

“Why won’t you love me?!” He sounds broken, distraught, hopeless. The hug around your lower half burns, feels like you’ll never be free, you’ll never get away from him.

You don’t want to get away from him anymore.

“I love you, Jeno..” you can hear your voice empty of life as it exits your lips. The image before you too blurry to even make out past your tear-filled gaze. “I love you.”

The grip on your hips loosens, tears calming to a round of sniffles, he stops shaking and slowly lifts his face to look at you. “Say that again.”

Cold, emotionless, demanding. That’s the tone you’re used to..

“I love you.”

Jeno stands back up, quickly cleaning his eyes off with the heel of his palms. A large smile altering the anger and sadness he just displayed seconds ago. “My Teddy.”

He rambles, words slurred together as you fail to process anything that’s just happened. Could this have ever been normal? Or is this simply who Jeno is? He’s obsessive, crazed, dominant and deranged.

“I know you love me.” He sighs happily, tugging you in close and rubbing along your spine. “I knew when you made Jisung put on a condom.”

The way spit clogs up your throat at that makes you choke on your next breath, Jeno’s laugh rumbling against your chest as he pats your back to help you. “I thought so after you made Haechan use one, but this really confirmed it. You wanted to hurt me, wanted to make me jealous..” his voice lowers, shifting to whisper in your ear. “But deep down inside you know I’m the only one you want to fuck you full of cum.”

There’s no point in questioning anything, you know he hates when you do that. You know that he has ways to find out things that you can’t begin to understand. “I know baby, that’s why I had to replace your prescription too. Those mints you always popped in your mouth after eating lunch. It’s cute how you play these little mind games with me..”

Mints?! The birth control you started taking after.. that first time. You knew he was evil, mentally deranged, but fucking your with medication?!

“M-my mints??” You ask in disbelief, having to bite down on the backs of your teeth to stop your jaw from hanging.

Jeno waves a finger at you, tapping your nose. “I don’t believe in that birth control shit.”

And there it is, the same Jeno you became familiar with in this very room. The same one that turns your dreams into nightmares, that makes you look over your shoulder constantly, the one that’s imprisoned you in this inescapable hell.

“It’s cute how you still think you can out-smart me.” He says sternly, pinching your chin. “But nothing about your constant lying is cute.”

He leans in close, eyes wide open taking in your despair, licking up the tears that seem endless. Everything, all of this, you were never going to win. Winning was never an option.

“You’re so special to me.” Sucking at the droplets dangling from your chin, he nips up your jaw to swallow your earlobe. “So special and real, remind me so much of him. Who he used to be.”

Because that’s really what this all boils down to. You never willingly fell for Jeno’s charms the way everyone else does, he had to force this, and even then you didn’t give. You held on to the last bits of yourself that remained raw and real, you chose to love and accept who you are even when he diminished your worth. And that drove him crazy, tickled him in places he forgot existed, reignited those memories of who his best friend once was.

“I love you.” Jeno repeats, whispering just for you, not that anyone could even hear your screams here from room 0423. No one heard you the last time, no one helped, no one cares.

“I love you too.” The tears that pour down from your upper lip could come across as tears of joy. From an outsider's point of view this could look like the happiest moment of your life. Sharing confessions of love with your boyfriend, a handsome young man who can only be described as obsessed with you, but they aren’t happy tears; and as Jeno grins, squatting down to scoop you up, you have to swallow the rancid bile rising up your throat. Laid back down on the same desk he first had his way with you on, the same place he made you shut up and take it.

It’s crazy and out of body when Jeno’s palms drag down your sides, unbutton your top and reaches under your back to unhook your bra. He’s done it many times, it’s muscle memory at this point removing your clothes. Each small drag of his fingertips feel more chilling, crashing waves of shock throughout your system. Even as he strips you nude and licks down your inner thighs you lay there stoic, gaze unwavering from where he stands between your legs taking time to stroke over your figure.

“What’re you thinking about teddy?” He coos, kissing along the tender skin lining your inner thigh. “You look like a lot is going on inside that pretty head..”

What are you thinking? You’re not thinking much of anything. Unable to process a singular thought as you watch him bend in and kiss down the center of your sternum, trailing down to your navel. There’s nothing else you can say right now, nothing else you want to say as tears collect and spill over, running down to your ears.

“I missed you, I missed you so much.”

Jeno slowly cranes his head up to find your tear-filled gaze, he slowly reaches to cup your face, slowly smiles. It all seems too slow in comparison to the breakdown you’re having. Shaking down to the tips of your fingers and toes, body wracked with sobs as he sits you up and thumbs at your wet cheeks.

“Did you sweetheart? You missed me?”

“Y-yes!” You cry out watery, throwing your arms around his waist to pull him in close between your thighs. “You left me, you didn’t come. You always pick me up, you’re always there.”

Jeno falls silent, basking in your misery, savoring the wash of success that rains down on him. He’s broken you, dropped each piece of the puzzle only to reassemble it the way he wants. Broken, fixed, he did that, made you his and only his. His hands reach under your top, stroking up your spine and cooing in your ear. “I’m always there, I’ll always be there.”

That’s his promise, that he’ll always be there for you. He’ll always watch out for you, even if it’s not in the traditional romantic way you’d dreamt of as a child. It’s still special, you’re still special to him. And that’s enough, that’s really enough. Because your body calms down, and your nose finds comfort in his clean scent, eyes falling shut as you begin to relax under his touch.

He straightens out to kiss your cheeks, smooth your hair away from your face and take in the sadness streaked across your iris. It’s sadness with a hint of hope, a hint of something he’s never noticed before. You’re finally looking at him like he means something to you, and that makes Jeno’s chest swell. Heart beating rapidly as he leans in to catch your lips and suck on each until they blister under his bites.

He never kisses you softly when you’re alone, and maybe you like that. He’s passionate and rough, takes control of your mouth and tastes through every little crevice inside. He always tastes good and lingers on your tongue for hours throughout the day, but you like that. You need to feel him, smell him, taste him, belong to him. You need him to remind you of who you belong to when you start to stray and seek attention from anyone else.

“Would you hurt me?” You asked him before, and as your eyebrows crush together while kissing him you have to ask again. Because Haechan hurt you, he hurt you so bad. Jisung hurt you, he hurt you more than he’ll ever know. But Jeno.. he can’t hurt you. If he ever hurt you, there’s no way to predict what you’d do..

“Only if you hurt me.” He says in a serious tone, pulling back to look in your eyes. “You won’t, not anymore. You love me.”

“I—I do, I love you.”

It’s final, it’s your love story. Here in room 0423, the school you worked hard to get into, the scholarship you stayed up late day and night putting in extra credit for. All of that led to this moment in time with Jeno. Led you to your destiny, to the man that loves you.

“I know teddy, I’ve always known.” Taking your hands, he kisses down your fingers from the tips, spending extra time on your knuckles, turning them to drag his lips over your palms. “I have plans for us, our future.”

Plans. Future. Whatever that means.. you’re just happy to be here with him. To let him place your hands on his cock, laugh quietly at the way your fingers can barely wrap around him. “You’d never ask me to wear a condom.” He mumbles. He’s proud of that, says it in a boisterous tone.

“Never.” You agree solemnly.

That’s the best part of this victory. You were never a simple one time fuck, you were always meant to be more. He had to break you down beyond whatever voided space sex could fill, had to ensure your only need in life should ever be him.

It’s easier to lift your legs up and prop your feet on the desk, fully exposing your core. You still whimper and hide your face, still give off a facade of not wanting it.

He wants you to watch, see every second of him filling you up from inside out. To know that your body belongs to him, that he made you this way. He slaps your thighs to get you to hold yourself open, grabbing onto the base of his cock to stroke. Free hand finding your hair to ball up in his grip and keep your neck bent down. “Want my cock sweetheart?”

Jeno shakes you by the tuft of hair in his hold, nodding your head up and down. “I know the small little dicks you let fuck you weren’t shit.”

The way your hips stutter at that and wet arousal bubbles from your hole makes his cock twitch, inching closer to pick up a dollop of your slick, spreading it up to your clit with the tip of his length.

Thankful for the rubber sole of your shoes keeping your feet in place, you moan, biting it down still out of habit. His cock is nice, thick, covered in large projected veins. The fat pink tip dips in past your clenched hole, forcing a gushing wet sound to echo throughout the classroom. It should be humiliating but your body says otherwise, squeezing out more of your arousal with each teasing prod of his cock.

He plays with you like that for a while, to get you desperate and needy the way he likes. Cockhead probbing in and out enough for the mass of his bulbous tip to disappear inside of you.

“J-Jeno..”

That’s it, that’s what he likes to hear. That shattered little way you say his name. He bends in again to lick your cheek clean, dragging his lips to your ear. “Don’t take your eyes off my cock, if you do I won’t be nice.”

That’s how he talks to you, none of that lovey dovey shit when you don’t actually want it. He talks to you like you’re dumb, like you need to be told what to do, and sometimes you do. Times like these when you relinquish all control of yourself and let him turn you into a puppet, you need to be told to speak and listen, to watch and enjoy. He’s good at that, at making you feel small when you need to.

Weakly nodding, you scoot back to get a better grip on the backs of your upper thigh, hold yourself fully open for him. It’s commemorative being here like this again, on this desk, watching him begin to slowly push his fat girth in.

His hands travel down to hold your cunt open, making it stretch even more as you take and take. It always hurts a little bit trying to take all of his length at once, a good hurt, the type the tingles from the end of your spine to your brain. Watching it split you open this up close makes the pain even more surreal, drooling from your mouth like a starved animal. Pussy drooling around his cock the more he buries in, skin pulled taut around the thick shaft.

“Do you see?” Jeno says deep and raspy, pushing in more than half of his mass already. He fingers your clit for a minute, watching your hole convulse around him. “See how damn good you take it baby? You’re so good for me.”

“Unnghhh..” you wanna kick your legs out, throw yourself on him, wrap your arms around his neck. You have to wait, be patient and watch the rest of his size push in. “S-so big.”

“Was made for you.” He says clearly, through the fog clouding your ears. “Was made to fuck you teddy, that’s why I feel so good inside of you. We’re perfect for each other.”

Hearing that makes you brain melt, dropping your head to hang only for Jeno to wrap around your throat and lift your head up, burning you with his fierce gaze.

“When you kissed Haechan,” his hands constraint around your neck, jerking your head to look at him. “Was your body still screaming for me? Is that why you missed me?”

When he says he knows everything about you he really means it. Down to the infestation of emotions crushing your soul everyday. He knows you’ll never be able to recover from what he’s put you through, you’ll always be addicted, crawling like a fiend for the next hit.

“You were thinking of me, that’s it right? With your lips pressed tightly up against his skin.” He says in the most condescending tone, dragging the tips of his fingers up your jaw while keeping a tight clasp around your throat. “Was he even worth the fuck?”

In the end, he wasn’t, your eyes tell Jeno everything he needs to know. The ache and lust, pangs of guilt muddled between. “Did he fuck you like this?”

The rest of his length sinks in, thrusting in the fat base of his cock ruthlessly, nearly losing your balance if not for the chokehold he has you in. “He’d never fuck you like this, not the way you need. Nobody ever will.”

To drive it home he pulls out completely, making your pussy gape wide open and dribble a wad of wetness out that spills onto the classroom floor. You want to agree with him, tell him that he’s right, that he’s the only one that will ever fulfill your needs now, coughing and blubbering your whimpers as you try to inhale. He fucks into you like a rabid feral wolf, plunging his cock in and out all the way to hear your gurgled scream. It hurts it hurts it hurts, it hurts so fucking good.

The more animalistic he becomes, the more your skin drips with sweat, straining to keep yourself in this position on the desk. Legs more like jelly as your feet begin to slip and your ass slides forward. Jeno only pummels into you faster, determined to rip through your womb, leave a mark on your cervix.

He grunts wildly, releasing your neck abruptly to wrap around your waist and cup your ass right as you nearly fall off the desk. Each thrust inside feels more erratic than the last, diving his cock in deeper than you’ve ever felt anything reach. He’s relentless, growling through it all, exerting power and anger as he hoists you up by your ass and your legs wrap around his hips limply.

“Fuck my baby into you.” He grunts furiously, throwing your body up and down on his cock. Hand prints bloom on your throat, dropping your head back to let out a howling moan, crying out for only Jeno to save you now. For Jeno to do whatever he wants with you.

Your cries has him laying you back on the desk, needing to see for himself how broken and pathetic you look. Hauling your thighs to wrap around him securely to not lose an inch of warmth blanketing his length. He pounds in balls deep, the clap of his sack meeting your ass resounding throughout the room wet and loud, making your legs tremble with each barreling thrust.

“Yeah? Fuck you full of my kids.” He growls, reaching for your shoulders to really lose it on you. Jerking back up the desk by each violent smack of his hips crashing down on you. It’s the crazed look in his eyes that hurdles you back into the last time, catching the faded sound of your pleading, of your denial. Screaming out no no! Over and over again, only for him to ignore you, have his way and ruin you for anyone else.

“P-please—“ you cry, squeezing around his meaty girth as much as you’re able to, feet dangling bonelessly behind him. “P-please, make me y-yours.”

It could have been this way last time, wanting him to have you instead of begging him to stop. It could have been normal, but the two of you were never destined for that. You were meant to be his as much as he was made to be yours. The wet smack of his balls turns messy, the looming broad frame mounting you losing his composure as you look up at him and more tears trail down your cheeks.

“You always look prettiest when you cry.” Jeno grits out, falling down against you to slam home a few more jerky thrusts. Cock spurting out enough cum to surely knock you up, pushing it in deep with each digging swivel of his hips and he grabs onto your chin and laps your hot cheek clean of tears.

“Might have to keep getting you pregnant after this..” he mumbles, kissing the swell of your lips. “Fuck your ass in the mean time while you’re knocked up. I know how my teddy likes it..”

It’s hot and sticky between your bodies, nodding slowly at what he says, you suck on his thumb until both of you have calmed and caught your breath.

He’s not just inside of you, he’s seeping from your pores, infiltrating your nervous system, tearing you open from inside out. Each exhausted breath he takes lines up to yours, blinking simultaneously, twitching through the aftershocks of your orgasm at the same time. He’s yours, and you are his. One soul, one heart, one love combining you.

“I love you.” He pants, reaching between your sweaty bodies to smooth his palm over your extended stomach, bulging out with his cock lodged in so deep. “I love us.”

Jeno did more than ruin your life. He destroyed everything you’ve worked hard for. Shattering your hopes and dreams, demolishing any type of independence you strived to achieve, he stripped all those dreams away.

He’s your new dream.

“I love you too.”

He hums, shifting to bracket your head with his biceps, littering gentle kisses across your wet tear-stained cheeks. “I know teddy, I know.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･

There are many ways you envisioned the future. Flying cars, trains that can get you from one side of a state to another at the speed of light, maybe even actual superheroes.

You can even recall sitting side by side with Haechan reading Uzumaki after the fight you had that brought you into each other’s lives in the first place. If you hadn’t wanted to read that damn manga so bad, if you had just shown up at the comic book store any other day. He had sat there with you, thigh pressed to yours, bangs too long and shabby, flicking up with each blink.

You thought it was nice, to like a boy, to have a crush. It was nice to go home and giggle while brushing your teeth, sent off to dream after your mom tucked you in. Haechan had appeared, the Haechan he’d grow up to be someday. The Haechan you wanted him to be someday, but the thing about dreams is they’re silly.

“I don’t believe in dreams.” Jeno says behind you, zipping up the back of your dress. “There’s more power in manifestation.”

But dreams are manifestations if you think about it, and while you dreamt of the future with Haechan, you remember it had been just like Uzumaki.

Spirals had begun to sprout up in the small town around you, driving everyone insane. Infecting each inch of surface and land, and you, you reached for Haechan as he escaped the swarm of spirals. You screamed, shouted, pleaded for him to grab a hold of your hands and save you.

And then you woke up, sitting up in your childhood bed feeling a sense of dread.

“I manifested you.” Jeno kisses your nape, fixing your hair into place. “My Teddy.”

No. He didn’t. That’s what you want to say, to let him know. He didn’t manifest you, you let him in years ago when Haechan stood there in your dream. Watched you get swallowed up by the spirals, the exact same way he watched Jeno swallow you whole. He did nothing then, he did nothing now, exactly like your dream.

It’s been a week now since you last went to class. A week now since you moved out of your studio apartment, Jeno reminding you that ‘That shithole is no place for my soon-to-be wife to live.’ as he drove you to a new apartment. Furnished, never lived in, a great view of the city, and two bedrooms.

‘Until I’ve saved up enough for a house, this will be perfect for our little family.’

He kisses your forehead and held you close, admiring the scenery outside of your bedroom window. ‘You’ll never have to worry about anything again.’

Don’t ask questions, don’t worry, just trust him.

Because he knows you’d never handle the truth without a fight. The anonymous threats he holds over Haechan’s father’s head, the thousands of dollars he’s set aside just to get you away from your childhood friend. It’s all been a part of his plan, and thankfully it worked. Of course it did, everything works out for Jeno.

“We won’t stay out too late.” Jeno smiles, reaching over to the passenger seat to tweak your chin. “You look so fucking cute in that costume.”

“I feel fat.” You mumble, poking at your exposed stomach.

“Don’t start.” He tuts, slapping your hand away. “You look like my fluffy cute teddy.”

You really do. Wearing fluffy round ears on your head, fuzzy tan brown bralette and matching shorts with a puffed tail attached. Jeno held up the costume with a huge smile, tossing it your way only a few hours ago and letting you know to get ready for a Halloween party tonight.

His costume seemed much more simple, nothing more than a Michael Meyers face mask and his usual attire. Tight black tee, fitted dark wash jeans, combat boots, studded leather belt.

You look really good too Jeno.

That’s what you wanted to say, especially after the last few weeks of falling asleep in the same bed together. You really really really wanted to say it, to tell him he looks hot, sexy, devastatingly attractive.

You say nothing though, following along with his arm around your shoulder through a throng of partygoers dancing around in their fun costumes. Fairies, iconic characters, Barbies, Bratz Dollz, cops and robbers. It’s fun really, your first Halloween party, your first Halloween party with your boyfriend.

“Water?” He hands you a cup of clear liquid, ignoring the bottles of alcohol lined up atop the kitchen counter of whoevers house this is.

“Thanks.”

He nods, directing you to a long winding staircase leading you up to an enormous hallway entrance. Rich people of course, luxurious decor, expensive paintings, every inch of this place spotless surely thanks to a 24 hour live-in maid service.

“There’s still one last thing I need to fix for you.”

Jeno walks backward, facing you with that blank faced mask on, arms prominent and flexed in the confines of his tight shirt. “That’s why we’re here Teddy.”

What could that even mean? One last thing to fix for you. Nothing can be fixed anymore.

“Come here baby.” It’s dark up here, darker in the room he tugs you inside of, immediately pinning your body to the wall, digging his fingers into your waist. “How am I supposed to keep my hands off of you?” He grunts, turning you around to press your breasts to the wall, stroking your hair aside to kiss your nape and toy with the leather choker there.

He says that offhandedly sometimes while you’re lazing around in bed after waking up. It’s so hard to keep his hands off of you, he has no idea how he’ll manage once you give birth.

That’s why you’re here, surprised he even bothered to find a room to hide you away in. Among the many things Jeno likes, he loves to show you off, love for everyone to know you are his.

He doesn’t waste time to strip your panties off, dropping them to your ankles to squeeze your ass with his heavy thick palms. Holding you apart to watch your wrinkled rim flinch and tighten up. “Not tonight sweetheart. Gotta fuck your pretty pussy, you know that. Have to make sure your womb stays full.”

He still runs a thumb across your rim, just to watch your hips jut back, so needy.

“Stay still okay?” Jeno says sweetly, pointing to the door. “And don’t look away.”

He steps back for a minute, letting the cool air circulating around the room roll shivers up your back, chewing on your lip in anticipation.

You think you hear a click, something else familiar that you can’t exactly put your finger on before the warmth of his body returns and presses against you.

“Now where were we? My poor teddy, already making a mess.” He whispers against the shell of your ear, hand slipping between your thighs to rub the wetness around that's smeared down. “Should I fuck you now? Make my teddy feel real good?”

“Y-yes..” you whine, keeping your gaze locked on the door like he commanded. It’s not good to disobey Jeno, and you don’t intend to.

“Beg for it better than that..” the weight of his size smacks against your ass, hot and heavy. Letting you know he’s fully hard and ready to fuck. “Come on.”

“Please Jeno.. wanna feel f-full..” you do your best to sound sweet, docile and small. Anything to not spend another minute without him inside of you.

“Is that all I am to you? A big cock to get yourself off on? Huh?” He seeps between your thighs, gripping onto your hips firmly. Rocking his hips forward, the clap of his skin hitting the perk of your ass resounds. Your skin sticky from body shimmer and lotion, moistening up as he ruts between your thighs.

“N-no.. love you, love your cock too.” You whimper, having to bite down on your hand to not scream when he slaps your hip and lets out a deep pleased grunt.

“That’s what I like to hear sweetheart.” Without bothering to warn you, he pushes in, pausing a little more than halfway only to savor the wet trickle of arousal drenching his length. “Fuck, that’s how much you love my cock? Dripping this fucking much already.”

“Yesyesyes!” You nod into your hand, bumping your head against the wall. Biting down harder on your fingers as impending screams rise up your throat. Muffling the one that breaks free when he pushes into the hilt.

Jeno’s cock always feels like the first time everytime, so big and fucking thick. Penetrating deep in ways that don’t even seem humanly possible. He always makes you cum, makes you want to go again even when your body needs a break.

“L-love h-how full you m-make me!” You blabber, reaching to grab onto the wall as he builds up speed and starts to thrust faster. Palms slide up your waist to fuck you the way he wants, pulling out to the tip each time and diving the entirety of his length right back in to really make you feel and take every inch.

“You love it?! You love me?” He growls, sliding one hand lower to find your clit before you’re able to respond. He knows you’ll choke on your next words, making your pussy gush out more around him as he rams up and fucks you vigorously. “Answer me!”

“Yes yes! I love you!” You wail, bounced up and down fiercely. The angle placing the tip of his cock right under your navel. “Ah! Ah f-fuck!”

“Yeah, keep fucking saying that sweetheart.” He roars, biting at your shoulder, swiping your clit side to side. Thin fingers play you like a fiddle, stroking and pinching your clit until you’re clenching around him. Toes pointed off the ground, neck tossed back in ecstasy.

Jeno reaches so deep, he fills you up so so good, he stretches you open in a way you’ve become addicted to. Clawing at the wall on the brink of your orgasm, chanting repetitive begging between your moans. He eats it all up, groans against your skin, shoving his mask off as the door opens.

“That’s it Teddy,” fisting your hair, he shoves your cheek against the wall, maneuvering your face toward the stream of light that enters. “Milking my cock so fucking good.”

Haechan’s eyes meet yours, wide and bewildered, quickly scanning from Jeno back to you. “Cum for me, let him see how you really take it baby. Show that bitch who you fucking love.”

It hurts. The pleasure between your thighs taking over your lower half as your heart pinches and aches, the two powerful emotions crashing head to head. And Jeno thrusts in hard, swiping his fingers rapidly along the sides of your clit until you’re crying out, slapping the wall with a shout.

“That’s my girl, that’s my fucking girl.” He rasps behind you, cupping your face to bite down on your jaw. Through your dazed euphoria you think that’s your broken voice spewing out a song of IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou, eyes rolled back as the cool chill washes away from your skin with an overwhelming wave of heat.

Jeno sport’s the biggest and most wicked smile, watching Haechan’s face fall. The last thing his old best friend could snatch away from his life, successfully crushing the relationship you ever had with him. He watches his old friend back away disgusted, and he cums, filling you with a hot stream of white, exclaiming how much he loves you.

“Love you so much baby,” he’s never sounded so honest, so enthralled and at ease. Drawing your waist back with his ripped arms, wrapping a safe hold around you to keep your limbless body against his. “Love you enough to give you my baby.”

His palms glide down, ending in their new favorite spot right beneath your navel. Kissing up your neck softly, murmuring about the future. “You’ll never be able to get rid of me now Teddy. We’re one now, you and I.”

There’s a hint of threat laced in his words, gently petting the area where he’s imagined a small bump will begin to show soon.

They day you met Haechan and lost him broke your heart. The day you met Jeno turned your life upside down, discovered the shattered pieces and put them back together again, finally showing you what you’ve always secretly wished for.

“I love you Jeno.”

“I know.”

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