↪synopsis: you develop a crush on jay the moment your eyes land on him and you immediately decide this is a problem because he's too pretty. unfortunately, chaewon tells you that he has been in a long-term relationship for years. which means your crush is doomed before it even starts. still, having a tiny harmless crush on someone unavailable has never killed anybody...right? are you doomed? yes, no, maybe?
↪ pairing: park jongseong x fem!reader | ↪ genre: university au, strangers to friends to lovers, slowburn, slight angst | ↪ type: SMAU | ↪ status: ongoing | ↪warning: slow-burn, jay is quiet and reserved, a bit of toxic friendship dynamic.
synopsis: when you meet sunghoon park — south korea’s calm, elite centre-back and vice-captain — during the world cup, professional interviews slowly turn into late-night conversations, gentle support, and stolen moments of connection.
as south korea pushes toward glory, so does hiding your growing feelings. through support, laughter, and quiet closeness, you discover something special that stays with you long after the final whistle.
pairing: footballer!sunghoon x reporter!reader
wc: est. 12k
cw/warnings: fluff! slow-burn, mild emotional distress (sports related), talks about being under pressure, disappointments, insecurities, expectations. one kiss, strong language
release date: july 19th, right after the world cup final ;)
the mixed zone after the match is chaotic, journalists crowding the barriers with cameras flashing and recorders thrust forward like eager weapons. the air feels humid and charged, thick with the scent of sweat, grass, and lingering adrenaline from the pitch. the players file through in waves, some pausing for quick quotes with tired smiles, others walking past with headphones on, heads down, lost in their own debriefs. you wait patiently near the designated spot, assigned specifically to sunghoon today, your notebook clutched tight and questions already mentally rehearsed.
when he approaches, towel around his neck, hair damp with sweat and slightly tousled, jersey clinging slightly to his frame from the exertions of ninety minutes, your pulse quickens despite your professionalism. he looks every bit the ice prince under the harsh mixed zone lights, broad shoulders still squared from the game, but up close there’s a subtle tiredness mixed with quiet satisfaction in his eyes, a faint flush on his cheeks that speaks to the effort he poured out.
“sunghoon park,” you begin, microphone steady in your hand, voice warm but professional, cutting through the surrounding din. “congratulations on the win and the clean sheet. you were instrumental at the back tonight. how did the defense hold up against their physical attacks?”
he stops fully, turning toward you with deliberate care. his gaze meets yours directly, polite and attentive, dark eyes steady without any hint of evasion. a small, shy smile touches his lips, the kind that barely shows but feels genuine, softening the sharp lines of his features for just a moment. “thank you. the team prepared well. we communicated a lot on the pitch, stayed compact. it’s a good start, but we know every match gets harder.”
you nod, following up smoothly, the words flowing as the crowd noise fades into background static. “your aerial duel win in the first half was crucial. and that long ball leading to the first goal — was that something practiced in training, or instinctive?”
“a bit of both,” he answers, voice calm and low, carrying that measured tone that makes every syllable feel intentional. “the coaches drilled set-pieces endlessly, but reading the moment… that comes with experience and trust in your teammates.” he shifts slightly on his feet, still looking at you, water bottle in one hand, the towel draped casually.
then you ask the tougher one, the kind that makes some players defensive or curt. “some analysts said before the tournament that the backline might struggle with pace. how do you respond to that after tonight?”
sunghoon pauses briefly, considering, then lets out a genuine laugh — soft, surprised, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that lights up his whole expression. it’s rare post-match, especially after a high-stakes opener, cutting through the usual post-game formality like a breath of fresh air.
“you came prepared with the tough questions, didn't you?” he teases lightly, tone playful but not mocking, a hint of warmth threading through. “i think we showed tonight that we can handle it. pace is one thing, but positioning and timing matter more. we’ll keep proving it match by match.”
you smile back, the chemistry instant and easy, a natural rhythm settling between question and answer. the interview flows naturally after that, a few more questions about team spirit and his leadership role as vice-third captain. he answers thoughtfully, adding small details that most players gloss over — the specific calls he made during transitions, the way the defenders rotated coverage to blunt counters, little insights born from hours on the training ground.
when it ends, he gives a slight bow of his head, respectful and understated. “good questions. thank you. see you soon.” his eyes linger just a second longer than necessary, holding yours with that same quiet intensity from the pitch, before he moves on down the mixed zone.
you stand there for a moment amid the continuing chaos, replaying the laugh in your head, the way his voice dipped on certain words. "he's handsome, but you're a professional. remember the boundaries", you remind yourself firmly, even as your notes feel heavier with more than just match analysis.
toxic friends w/ benefits texts with enhypen jungwon <3
part 1 : the afterparty
part two - part 2.5 - part three - part four - part five
notes: heyy! this is my first work and i promise the other ones will be longer and i’ll set up my acc and everything soon but i just really wanted to start posting first :). i rlly love the toxic angsty tropes btw. jungwon is so cute here… i hope u guys like it!!
› nerd physics major!jake & literature major fem!reader
✶ ˚｡⋆ when a stupid account starts replying to your (attempted) poetic tweets with absolute logic, it ruins your deep thoughts with talk of gravity and thermodynamics. you’re already losing your mind, but for jake? that’s just his best way of flirting.
꧖ warnings: cursing. crack. jake is down bad and pathetic srs. english isn’t my first language. — masterlist.
(˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) : he looks so dreamy in these photos… i’m so in love. how is he even real. aaaand 🥁🥁🥁 i opened a perm tag list! the post to join is linked at the end of the smau. thank u for reading 💌
The summoned hero has one critical flaw: They have sociopathic and psychopathic traits. However, psychopathy and sociopathy don't automatically equate to being a bad person. The hero genuinely tries to do the right thing, resulting in situations which are either hilarious or horrifying...
you finally get the opportunity to pamper your boyfriend
pairing: sub! jay x soft domme!reader || wc: 2.6k || cw: smut! kissing, making out, oral sex (m rec.), p in v, unprotected sex (don't.), creampie, praise, use of petnames, dirty talk, strong language. reader rejects jay a couple times, yearner!jay, pining || warnings: +18 content, mdni! || a/n: after the many requests of sub!jay… what you want is what you get 🫡
you sit on the edge of your bed, heart heavy as jay stands in front of you, hands fidgeting at his sides. his usual confident posture is gone, replaced by nervous hope in his eyes.
“i like you,” he says quietly, voice steady but soft. “i’ve liked you for a long time. more than friends. will you go out with me?”
you swallow, chest tight. jay has been one of your closest friends for over a year, always kind, always there. the two of you met when you joined the company as a trainee and quickly bonded over late-night practices, shared playlists, and quiet conversations about the pressure of the idol life. he was the one who brought you snacks when you skipped meals, the one who stayed behind to help you perfect a difficult choreography, the one whose laugh made even the hardest days feel lighter. but you aren’t ready. the timing feels wrong, your own feelings too tangled with the stress of debut preparations, self-doubt, and the fear of complicating the group dynamic. dating within the team could change everything.
“jay… i’m sorry. i don’t feel the same way right now. i value our friendship so much. i don’t want to ruin that.”
his face falls for just a second — eyes dimming, shoulders dropping — before he forces a small, understanding smile. “i understand. really. thank you for being honest.” he leaves your dorm room gently, closing the door with a soft click, but you see the hurt lingering in his eyes, the way he pauses in the hallway for a moment like he needs to collect himself.
that night marks the beginning of months of quiet pining.
jay doesn’t pull away completely. he doesn’t disappear from your life. he still laughs at your jokes during group dinners, still saves you the seat next to him on long flights, still sends late-night messages asking if you got home safe. but you notice the way his gaze lingers when he thinks you aren’t looking. how he looks at you a second longer when you laugh at one of jake’s jokes. the way his hand brushes yours a second too long when passing something. the way his smile turns softer, almost yearning, whenever you enter the room. the other members notice nothing unusual — jay has always been attentive — but you feel the shift.
weeks turn into months. he tries. god, he tries so gently. small things at first — bringing your favorite coffee to practice without being asked, remembering the exact way you like your ramen, leaving little notes in your bag with silly drawings that make you smile. after a month, he asks again, voice careful. “things might have changed for you? even a little?”
you look at him, heart twisting at the hope in his expression. “jay, you’re incredible. you really are. but i’m still figuring myself out. i don’t want to hurt you by rushing into something i’m not sure about.”
he nods, swallowing hard, but his smile is genuine even through the disappointment. “okay. i’ll keep being your friend. that’s enough for me right now.” yet that night, as you lie in bed, you can’t stop thinking about the way his voice cracked just slightly at the end.
two more months pass. his longing becomes something palpable. during late-night studio sessions, he watches you with tired but adoring eyes while you practice vocals. when the group goes out for late dinners, he sits across from you, quietly stealing glances that make your heart flutter more than you admit. he never pressures you. never makes it awkward for the others. but you feel it — the depth of his yearning, the way he lights up when you laugh at something he says, the way his shoulders slump just slightly when you leave the room.
one rainy evening, after a canceled schedule, the two of you end up alone in the dorm kitchen. thunder rumbles outside as you make ramen together. jay’s sleeves are rolled up, hair slightly damp from the rain. conversation flows easily at first—complaints about choreography, dreams for the future—but then he grows quiet.
“sometimes i wonder what it would be like,” he admits, stirring the pot. “if you had said yes that first time. waking up next to you, planning secret dates, just… being with you. i know i shouldn’t say this, but i still feel it. every day.”
you freeze, spoon halfway to your mouth. guilt and something warmer bloom in your chest. “jay…”
“it’s okay,” he says quickly, offering a reassuring smile. “i’m not asking again. i just… needed to say it out loud. i’ll wait as long as it takes. you’re worth it.”
those words stay with you. over the following weeks, your own feelings begin to shift. his patience, his quiet strength, the way he never makes you feel pressured—it all chips away at your hesitation. you find yourself seeking him out more, laughing a little louder at his jokes, lingering in hugs during goodnights.
finally, after nearly six months, it happens. one evening after a particularly exhausting comeback promotion, you find him alone on the dorm balcony, staring at the city lights. you sit beside him. the silence stretches comfortably before you speak.
“jay… why do you keep waiting for me?”
he turns to you, eyes soft and honest under the moonlight. “because it’s you. every time i try to move on, i realize no one else makes me feel this way. i like the way you think, the way you care about everyone, the way your voice sounds when you’re excited. i’ll keep waiting if that’s what you need. but i won’t pretend i don’t want you.”
your heart cracks open. months of his steady, patient affection have slowly shifted something inside you. you reach for his hand. “okay,” you whisper. “let’s try. i want to try with you. i want to try. if you’ll still have me.”
jay’s eyes widen, then fill with pure, disbelieving joy. he pulls you into a gentle hug, burying his face in your hair. “thank you,” he breathes. “i won’t mess this up.”
your first date is simple and perfect. he takes you to a quiet café tucked away from fans, then a walk along the han river at night. his hand holds yours like it’s precious, thumb stroking your skin constantly. he listens intently when you talk, laughs at your stories, and when he walks you back, he kisses your forehead softly. “i’ve wanted this for so long,” he admits, cheeks pink.
the second date is a movie night in his dorm when the others are out. you cuddle under blankets, his arm around you the entire time. he keeps glancing at you instead of the screen, stealing soft kisses that leave you both smiling.
your third date ends with him cooking for you in the dorm kitchen. the food is delicious, the conversation flows easily, and when you kiss him goodnight, it deepens, turning heated but still careful. you pull back, breathing fast. “soon,” you promise. “i want our first time to be special.”
he nods, eyes dark with want but full of patience. “whenever you’re ready. no rush.”
that night, after the date, you go shopping alone. you pick out a delicate set of lingerie — black lace that hugs your curves, sheer in all the right places, with tiny straps and a matching thong. you want to make this night unforgettable for him after all his waiting.
the next evening, the dorm is empty. the members are away for a schedule. jay texts you to come over. when you arrive, he has dimmed the lights, soft music playing, and a small bouquet of your favorite flowers on the table. he looks nervous and handsome in a simple black button-up.
“hi,” he says, voice already a little rough as he pulls you inside.
you kiss him slowly at first, building the heat between you. clothes come off gradually — his shirt, your dress — until you’re standing in front of him in just the lingerie.
jay freezes. his eyes look at you, up and down, lips parting in shock. the black lace contrasts beautifully against your skin, the sheer panels leaving little to the imagination. “oh my god…” he whispers, voice breaking. “you… you bought this for me?” his hands tremble slightly as they hover near your waist, afraid to touch something so perfect. “you look… god, i think my heart actually stopped. you’re going to kill me, baby.”
you nod, smiling shyly. “i wanted to look perfect for you tonight.”
he looks like he might actually pass out. his hands hover in the air, almost afraid to touch. “you’re going to kill me. seriously. i’ve imagined this so many times but— fuck, you’re unreal.”
you step closer, cupping his face. you press soft kisses to his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, then his lips. “my sweet boy,” you murmur against his mouth. “you’ve waited so long for me. let me take care of you tonight.”
jay shudders visibly at the pet name, cheeks flushing deep red. “baby… i should be the one—”
“shh.” you kiss him deeper, tongue sliding against his. “you’ve pined and longed and been so patient with me. tonight is about you.”
you guide him to the bed, pushing him gently onto his back. he lies there, breathing hard already, eyes locked on you as you climb over him. you start pampering him with kisses — slow, open-mouthed ones across his jaw, down his neck, over his collarbones. every kiss is accompanied by soft words.
“my good boy,” you whisper, lips brushing his chest. “you're so handsome, so strong for waiting all those months.”
jay lets out a shaky groan, hands gripping the sheets. “fuck… keep talking like that and i won’t last.”
you smile, kissing lower, across his toned stomach. “my pretty jay. my sweet, loving boy who never gave up on me.” you reach the waistband of his pants and slowly pull them down along with his boxers. his cock springs free, hard and leaking, flushed at the tip. he twitches under your gaze.
“you're so perfect,” you praise, pressing a kiss to his hip. “look at you, all worked up just for me.”
jay moans openly, the sound low and needy. he bites his lip hard, trying to muffle it, but another kiss to his inner thigh pulls a broken groan from his throat. “ah— baby… please…”
you take him in your hand, stroking slowly. he arches off the bed, another moan spilling out. “you sound so pretty when you moan,” you tell him, kissing the head of his cock. “don’t hold back. i want to hear all of it.”
he whines — actually whines — when you take him into your mouth, tongue swirling around the tip. “oh god… your mouth— fuck, so warm and—” his hand flies to your hair but he doesn’t push, just holds on like you’re grounding him.
you work him with your mouth and hand, slow and loving, while your other hand caresses his thighs, his stomach, his chest. every few seconds you pull off to kiss his hips, his abs, murmuring more pet names. “my sweet boy… my patient, perfect jay… you deserve this.”
jay is falling apart. moans and groans pour from him constantly. he tries biting his lip, tries covering his mouth, but the sounds escape anyway — deep, desperate noises that make heat pool between your legs. “i should be… fucking you,” he babbles between moans. “should be making you feel good— ahh, fuck— not you spoiling me like this—”
you pull off with a wet pop and crawl up his body, kissing him deeply. “you’ve waited months for me, baby. let me take care of my sweet boy tonight. let me love you the way you deserve.”
he nods frantically, eyes glassy with pleasure and emotion. “okay… okay, please, let me touch you. i wanna touch you—”
you remove the rest of your lingerie slowly, letting him watch every inch. jay’s gaze is worshipful, hands finally moving to touch your waist, your breasts, your thighs. you settle over him, guiding his cock to your entrance. you’re soaked, aching for him after months of tension and the sweetness of tonight.
you sink down inch by inch. jay’s head falls back, a long, guttural groan tearing from his throat. “so tight— baby, you feel incredible. so fucking good. oh my god—” his hips twitch but he lets you set the pace.
once he’s fully inside you, you stay still for a moment, kissing his face everywhere — his eyelids, his cheeks, his lips. “my jay,” you whisper. “my sweet, lovely boy. i’m so glad i said yes.”
you start moving, rolling your hips in slow, deep circles. jay moans with every motion, hands squeezing your hips, eyes fluttering shut. “feels too good… i can’t— i’m gonna—” he bites his lip again but fails when you lean down to suck on his neck. another loud groan escapes.
“don’t hold back,” you encourage, kissing along his jaw. “let me hear how good my sweet boy feels.”
he babbles then, words tumbling out between moans and gasps. “i love you— i've wanted this for so long— your pussy is perfect— fuck, i’m yours, all yours— please don’t stop—” his voice cracks on a particularly deep grind, turning into a needy whine.
you ride him steadily, hands braced on his chest, kissing him whenever you can. the room fills with the sounds of skin meeting skin, his constant moans, and your soft praises. “good boy. you're taking me so well… my patient, loving jay…”
jay’s hands roam your body, touching you, but he lets you stay in control. his moans grow louder, more desperate.
he tries to muffle them by turning his face into the pillow, but you gently turn him back. “let me hear you, baby.”
when you start bouncing faster, clenching around him, his groans turn almost constant. “i’m close— baby, i’m so close, gonna cum so hard. gonna give you everything—”
“cum for me, sweet boy,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss him deeply. “fill me up. you’ve earned it.”
jay cums with a broken, loud moan that echoes in the room, hips stuttering up into you as he spills deep inside. his whole body trembles, face flushed, eyes squeezed shut in overwhelming pleasure. you follow right after, grinding down and moaning his name softly.
you collapse onto his chest, both of you breathing hard. you keep kissing him — his forehead, his temples, his lips — whispering more sweet words. “my perfect jay. my sweet, sweet boy. i love how you sound for me.”
he wraps his arms around you tightly, still inside you, hiding his face in your neck. “you’re going to kill me with those pet names,” he mumbles, voice hoarse and shy. “i’ve never… felt like this before.”
you smile, stroking his hair. “good. because i plan on calling you my sweet boy every time we do this.”
he laughs softly, embarrassed but happy, pressing kisses to your shoulder. you stay like that for a long time, cuddling, touching lazily, talking about the months he spent pining and how glad you both are that you finally took the chance.
later that night, after cleaning up and eating snacks in bed, you do it again — slower this time, face to face, with even more kisses and whispered praises. jay still moans beautifully, still gets flustered by every “good boy” and “my sweet love,” but he stops fighting it. he lets you pamper him, lets himself enjoy being taken care of after waiting so long.
in the quiet hours before morning, as you lie tangled together, jay traces patterns on your back and whispers, “i’m so glad you said yes. i would’ve waited forever for you.”
you kiss his chest, right over his heart. “good thing you don’t have to wait anymore.”
The morning light filtered through the thin curtains... in soft gold ribbons, spilling gently across the living room floor where everything had been carefully, lovingly arranged. Balloons in muted pastels floated near the ceiling, tied to corners of furniture so they wouldn’t drift too wildly and startle her. A small banner hung slightly uneven across the wall—Happy 1st Birthday, Seoah—each letter cut out by hand because Sunghoon insisted it would feel more real that way.
Real. That word still sat heavy in his chest sometimes. Realize that she was here. Realized that she was his daughter. Realize that she wasn’t waiting anymore.
A year ago, Seoah had been a frightened little girl who was too young to understand what abandoned meant, yet old enough to remember patterns of fear. She had spent the first part of her life in places that were never fully stable; sometimes quiet, sometimes loud enough that her tiny body learned to flinch before her mind understood why. There had always been food, somewhere to sleep, somewhere to sit. But care wasn't the same as comfort, and warmth was something she learned to imagine rather than expect.
Seoah sat in the middle of a soft cream rug, legs tucked under her like a little folded star. Two years old, but today marking one year since she had come home, since she had been adopted, since she had first learned what it meant to have a name spoken with love instead of uncertainty.
She wasn’t speaking now.
She hadn't spoken much even before coming home. Not because she couldn't, but because no one had stayed long enough for her words to feel important. Silence had become safer. If she didn't ask for anything, she couldn't be disappointed. If she stayed very still, people rarely noticed her enough to expect anything from her.
She rarely did.
But her silence was never emptiness. Not anymore.
Her big eyes, too big for her small face, always so observant, kept darting around the room. Every time someone new stepped in, her expression shifted in tiny, readable waves: curiosity, surprise, then something brighter. Something almost like disbelief.
They’re all here. For me?
That thought didn’t need words. It lived in the way her fingers curled into the fabric of her little dress, then slowly released. In the way she leaned slightly closer to Sunghoon whenever the room got louder with laughter. In the way she kept looking at the cake, as if it might disappear if she blinked too hard.
Sunghoon crouched beside her, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy from the morning rush of preparations. He had done everything himself, refusing help more than once, even when his friends insisted. It wasn’t about perfection. It was about presence. About being there for every small second of her life that she once didn’t have anyone to witness.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she reached out and grabbed one of his fingers with both of her small hands, holding on tightly. Her grip was warm. Certain.
That was her answer.
The door opened again, and the room filled with familiar voices, friends, chosen family, people who had watched Sunghoon change over the past year in ways he never knew he needed to. They spoke gently, as if the air itself might be too fragile for anything louder.
Seoah’s head snapped toward them.
For a second, she froze.
Then she saw the smiles.
Not forced. Not pitying. Real.
And something in her expression softened.
One of the guests knelt a little distance away, not rushing her, just existing in her space like an invitation rather than an intrusion. Seoah blinked slowly, then leaned slightly forward, like she was trying to understand what was happening in this new world where people came not to take, but to give.
Sunghoon noticed everything. He always did with her.
When they'd first met, she'd done exactly what she was doing now—watching—no reaching for him. No tears. No smile. She had studied him with careful, guarded eyes, as if trying to decide whether he would disappear like everyone else. But Sunghoon never rushed her. He never asked her to smile or speak. He kept showing up. The same gentle voice. The same patient distance. Hands that waited instead of grabbing. He learned her rhythm instead of asking her to match his.
The smallest flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. The way her shoulders rose just a little when she was overwhelmed, the moment before she decided whether to retreat or stay.
Today, she stayed.
That alone felt like victory.
The cake sat on the table nearby, simple but carefully made, soft frosting in pale colours, a single candle waiting in the center. Seoah had been watching it for the past hour like it was a mysterious object from another planet. Occasionally, she would tilt her head, as if it might explain itself if she stared long enough.
Sunghoon picked her up gently.
She stiffened for half a second, old instinct, the kind that never fully leaves quickly, but then melted into him when she realized where she was. Her small hand immediately clutched his shirt near his collarbone.
“Let’s go see it,” he murmured.
She didn’t resist.
When they reached the table, the room quieted slightly, anticipation settling like a held breath. Seoah’s eyes widened as she took in everything at once, the cake, the candle, the faces watching her with unmistakable love.
And for the first time that day, her composure cracked just a little.
Her lip trembled.
She looked at Sunghoon quickly, as if checking if this was real.
His thumb brushed softly against her back in slow circles, a grounding rhythm.
“It’s for you,” he said.
Little by little, she'd learned something she'd never known before: repetition without disappearance, presence without conditions. Even after the adoption papers were signed, she'd still look at him every morning as if expecting him to be gone. But he never was. Instead, her world slowly grew larger. A bedroom that stayed hers. Blankets that smelled like home. Meals that were never rushed. A father who said her name as though it were the most precious word he knew.
That was all it took.
Something in her broke open, not in pain, but in overwhelming recognition. Her eyes filled quickly, glossy and shining, and she pressed her face into his shoulder for a moment like she needed to hide from how big the feeling was.
Sunghoon held her tighter.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You don’t have to be brave right now.”
That was when she peeked back out.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like the world might still disappear if she looked too fast.
But it didn’t.
It stayed.
All of it stayed.
The people. The cake. The warmth. Him.
Her small fingers lifted, hesitating in the air, then pointed slightly toward the candle, a question without words.
Sunghoon smiled, softer than anything in the room.
“Want to try?”
She nodded.
Barely.
But it was there.
A tiny, decisive motion.
The lighter clicked, and the candle flame flickered alive. Seoah gasped quietly, not loud, just a breath that carried all her wonder. Her eyes reflected the flame as if it were something alive and speaking directly to her.
Everyone started singing.
The sound filled the room gently, not overwhelming, adjusting itself instinctively to her sensitivity. Seoah turned her head slowly from one face to another, watching mouths move, hearing voices layered together like a soft blanket wrapping around her.
At first, she just stared.
Then her lower lip trembled again.
And then, she smiled.
Not a small one.
A full, radiant, unguarded smile that seemed to stretch her whole face into something luminous.
Sunghoon felt something sharp in his chest at the sight of it. Not pain. Not exactly joy either. Something in between, something like relief so intense it almost hurt.
She leaned forward slightly toward the cake, then paused, looking back at him again and asking, without asking. He nodded.
“Go ahead.”
Her tiny hand reached out. Frosting touched her fingertip. She froze, processing the texture, the cool sweetness. Then she brought it to her mouth cautiously.
The reaction came instantly.
Her eyes widened again—longer this time—and she let out a small, surprised sound that wasn’t quite a word but carried everything a word would have. She blinked at him, then at the cake, then back at him again.
Sunghoon laughed softly, unable to stop himself.
“Good?”
She nodded quickly now. More confident. More certain.
Another piece. This time, less hesitant.
The room around them felt distant, like a warm blur of presence rather than pressure. Conversations softened into background comfort. Cameras weren’t important. Decorations weren’t important. Time itself felt like it had slowed just enough to let this moment exist fully.
But the most important moment came later.
When the eating slowed, when the candles were gone, when Seoah was gently held against Sunghoon’s shoulder again, she turned her face slightly toward the room.
And she looked at everyone.
Really looked.
Her expression shifted, not confusion anymore, not uncertainty. Something deeper. Something that said she understood, in her own quiet way, that this wasn’t temporary. That these faces weren’t visiting. That this warmth wasn’t a dream she had to wake up from.
Her small hand lifted from Sunghoon’s shirt.
And she reached outward.
Not to take.
But to acknowledge.
A tiny wave. Awkward, uncertain, but intentional.
The room went still for a heartbeat.
Then someone laughed softly, touched. Someone else wiped at their eye quickly. Sunghoon tightened his hold on her just slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “That’s my girl.”
Seoah leaned back into him immediately after, as if shy about the attention, burying her face in his neck again.
But her fingers didn’t let go.
They held on.
She still didn't speak. Maybe she would someday, maybe she wouldn't for a while longer. No one hurried her. She had already found another language, small nods, gentle hands clutching sleeves, quiet glances that meant stay. And Sunghoon understood every one of them.
Just like she had from the beginning.
And in that simple grip, Sunghoon understood everything she couldn’t say yet.
I’m here. I’m safe. I’m loved.
And for the first time since the day he met her, he didn’t feel like he was trying to give her a world.
warnings: mdni! sexual content, teasing, sexual tension, teasing, edging, degradation, mocking, use of pet names, reader rides his guitar, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do it), rough sex, reader is desperate, light choking, crying during sex, creampie.
wc: 16.2k
note: ngl i wrote this for myself (and kind of for this req too). i think i love writing about pathetic yearners because i myself have never fallen in love LMAOOO 😭 i stayed up a whole night just to finish this so i hope it's good...........
for a long time, you had thought you were just waiting for the right kind of soft.
you had tried, too. you had allowed yourself to be taken out to quiet dinners, had sat under warm porch lights, listening to men talk about their lives with gentle, earnest eyes. you had let them hold your hand across small wooden tables, feeling the steady warmth of their palms, and you had waited. you had waited for that sudden shift in the air, that secret hum in the gut that people spent their whole lives writing songs about.
but every time someone leaned in, every time warm lips pressed against yours in the cool night air, it had felt like nothing at all. dry skin against dry skin. a strange, mechanical stillness. it was like watching a match strike through a thick sheet of glass. you could see the heat, could acknowledge the flame, but not a single spark ever managed to reach your skin.
the panic had been quiet at first, a slow burning ache in the back of your throat, before it turned into something suffocating. it wasn't that you were picky. it wasn't that you were holding out for some cinematic ideal. it was the lonely realization that the mechanism inside you was simply broken. your chest was an empty room, dark and quiet, while everyone else seemed to be burning alive.
eventually, you had stopped trying to force a pulse out of stone. you had accepted the dull safety of your own mind.
working at the dive bar had made it easier to forget. the place was always loud enough to drown out the quiet inside your head — sticky floors, the sharp tang of spilt rye, and the dense humidity of too many bodies packed into a low-ceilinged room. you moved through the crowds with a tray tucked under your arm, brushing off clumsy jokes and easy smiles with a polite curve of your lips that never quite reached your eyes. you watched people fall apart over each other every weekend, tangling their fingers together in the dark corners, and you felt like a ghost observing a world you weren't allowed to touch.
watching them was a quiet kind of grief. there was something raw and messy — and violently alive — about the way strangers reached for each other under those flickering neon lights. a bruised knee knocking against another beneath a booth, teeth catching on a lower lip, two people leaning into each other’s space like the air everywhere else was unbreathable. they looked desperate. they looked reckless and stupid and completely undone.
and every time you wove through the narrow aisles with a tray of empty pint glasses, you felt the cold weight of your own detachment settle deeper into your marrow.
you wanted to hate them for it. you wanted to pretend you were above the embarrassing, chaotic urge to give yourself away to someone else. but you weren't above it. you were just locked out.
you had been entirely immune to it all, safe behind the glass, until thursdays started feeling different.
it hadn't happened all at once. it began with the heavy thud of sound equipment being dragged through the alley door, the sudden smell of rain and cheap tobacco cutting through the stale beer. you hadn't even looked at the stage the first night his band played. you had just been standing by the service well, wiping down a greasy counter, when a low, dirty frequency had bled out of the speakers. it was a vibration so deep it didn't just rattle the floorboards under your sneakers, it had settled directly into the hollow space behind your ribs, making your breath hitch in the dark.
you had looked up then. through the shifting haze of blue stage lights and the dull fog of the bar, your eyes caught on the guitarist.
he wasn't trying to pull the room's attention. he didn't have that loud need to be perceived that ruined most musicians who played there. he was just leaning over his instrument like it was the only thing in the room keeping him anchored, dark hair falling across his forehead, casting shadows over sharp features. he wasn't putting on a show. he just played.
when the song ended, he didn't bask in the scattered applause. he just turned his head, exchanged a low, private word with the drummer, and offered a fleeting curve of his mouth that vanished as quickly as it appeared.
and there, standing by the soda gun with a damp rag clutched in your fist, you felt it.
a crack.
it wasn't an explosion. it wasn't a roaring fire. it was just a tiny fracture in the thick glass that had kept you numb for years. a sudden rush of heat that bloomed at the base of your throat and travelled all the way down to your fingertips. you had swallowed hard, your pulse suddenly loud in your own ears, completely paralyzed by the sheer shock of simply feeling something.
you didn't know his name. you didn't know anything about him. but for the rest of your shift, you couldn't stop your eyes from drifting back to the stage.
it started like that. a silent, harmless curiosity.
but as the thursdays bled into each other, the curiosity hardened into something heavier. you learned his name was jay only because you overheard the bartender shouting it over the noise to hand him his tab. you learned that he drank his whiskey neat, that he had a habit of rolling his sleeves up just below the elbow, and that he existed inside a quiet, untouchable bubble.
he had a pull to him, a natural magnetism that drew people in, but he never seemed to entertain it for long. you watched people try their luck after sets — sliding up to the edge of the stage, offering glossy smiles and lingering touches. he wasn't cold, exactly. he would offer a polite nod, maybe a brief response that you couldn't hear over the music, but he never seemed to let anyone in. he always stepped neatly out of their gravity, turning back to pack up his pedals or heading out the back door to smoke with his bandmates. he was polite, but entirely walled off. a mystery that didn't want to be solved.
and slowly, you found yourself sinking into it.
it was a quiet kind of admiration. the kind that crept up on you in the dead spaces of your shift. you found yourself tracking him in your periphery, anticipating the exact moment he would walk through the front door with his guitar case. you memorized the way his hands moved over the frets, the way his jaw set when he was concentrating, the low, raspy pitch of his voice when he occasionally leaned into the microphone for backing vocals.
you made peace with the silence of it. you didn't need to be the person who walked up to him, you were content to stay behind the bar. it didn't matter that he barely looked your way, or that to him, you were probably just a passing blur in an apron clearing empty pint glasses from his table.
it was a one-sided devotion, completely hidden in the dark. but after years of feeling nothing at all, the sweet ache of simply wanting him was a relief. you finally had a pulse, and you guarded that secret bruise with everything you had.
it became a rhythm you lived by. the rest of your week felt like empty space, a dull stretch of days you just had to wade through until thursday rolled around. you started noticing intricate things. like how the faulty neon sign in the window cast a reddish glow over his leather jacket when he stood by the door. or how he tapped his boot against the base of the mic stand before the first song. the heavy silver rings on his right hand too, dull and scratched under the stage lights.
you felt hyper-aware whenever he was in the building, walking through the room like your skin was suddenly too thin. every time you had to walk past the stage to serve the front booths, your shoulders stiffened and your breath turned shallow. you wondered if everyone could see it — this glaring spotlight of a crush burning inside your chest. but no one noticed. especially not him.
the first time he actually spoke to you, it was entirely mundane.
it happened on a night when the heating in the bar had broken. the air was stifling, thick with humidity and the smell of warm beer. he had just finished his set, leaving his guitar on the stand, and instead of heading out to the alley, he walked straight toward the narrow stretch of the service well where you were refilling the garnish trays.
you didn't hear him approach over the sudden noise of the jukebox filling the silence. you just turned around with a plastic container of sliced limes, and he was suddenly there, leaning a casual arm against the dark wood of the bar.
up close, the sheer gravity of him was suffocating. you could smell the faint trace of tobacco clinging to his clothes, mixed with something clean and sharp beneath it. your heart gave a panicked lurch, hammering against your ribs so hard you thought he might hear it.
"hey." he said. his voice was raspy from singing, carrying that same effortless cadence he used with everyone. "could i just get some water?"
you froze. the container of limes suddenly felt heavy in your hands. out of all the desperate, ridiculous scenarios you had accidentally imagined, simply handing him water hadn't been one of them.
"yeah." you managed to say, but your voice came out thin, strained.
you felt the heat rush violently to your cheeks as you spun back around, fumbling for a clean glass. your fingers were suddenly clumsy, stupid, completely betraying you. you dropped an ice cube on the rubber mat and nearly missed the glass with the soda gun.
he didn't seem to notice your quiet spiral. or if he did, he didn't care. he just waited, looking past you, his dark eyes casually scanning the row of liquor bottles on the shelf, completely untethered, completely calm. to him, this was nothing. just a pit stop.
you set the glass down in front of him, a little too abruptly, water sloshing perilously close to the rim.
"sorry." you mumbled, wiping your trembling hands hastily on your apron, wanting nothing more than for the floorboards to open up and swallow you whole.
he didn't bat an eye. he just pulled the glass toward him, offering that same polite nod he gave everyone else, treating you exactly the way he treated the sound guy, the bouncer, the rest of the world.
"thanks." he murmured.
and then he turned around and walked back to his bandmates, taking all the air in the room with him.
he hadn't lingered. he hadn't really looked at you. the interaction had lasted less than thirty seconds. but as you stood there, gripping the edge of the service well with white knuckles, your chest was heaving like you had just run a marathon.
you felt pathetic. utterly ruined by a man who was just thirsty. but those thirty seconds sustained you for a month.
you hated yourself for it. you spent the following weeks dissecting the interaction until there was nothing left but the humiliating reality that you had practically trembled in front of him, and he hadn't even perceived you as a person. you were just a function. a pair of hands that delivered his glass.
but then, it became a routine.
the next thursday, after the first set, he didn't go to the alley. he didn't go to the wider, less crowded side of the bar where the other bartender was standing idly. he walked straight through the crowd and stopped at your cramped corner of the service well.
he didn't say hey this time. he just leaned his forearms against the sticky wood, his dark eyes fixed on the dirty mirror behind the liquor shelf, and tapped his silver-ringed fingers once against the rubber bar mat.
you didn't ask what he wanted. you just reached for a clean glass, your chest tightening painfully, and poured the water.
he took it, gave that same detached nod, and walked away.
it turned into a brutal, silent arrangement. every week, he would come to your exact corner. he never asked your name. he never asked how your shift was going. to you, it felt like you were entirely invisible, just a convenient fixture in the background of his night. he would stand there, chest heaving slightly from the performance, smelling of smoke and sweat, taking up all the oxygen in your immediate radius.
sometimes he would drink it right there, turning his back to you to lean against the bar and survey the room. you would stand inches behind him, trying to remember how to breathe, wiping the same spot on the stainless steel counter over and over just to have something to do with your hands.
it was toxic, this tiny sliver of proximity. you were starving, and he was dropping crumbs without even looking down to see what was eating them.
you rationalized it, of course. it was obviously just convenience. he was a creature of habit. he came to your well because he knew you wouldn't bother him, wouldn't try to touch his arm or shout over the music like the people who hovered near the stage. he came to you because you were practically a ghost. you offered no resistance, no annoying conversation. you were just a silent dispenser of whatever he needed.
but god, you started living for those quiet, devastating minutes.
you started making sure you were anchored at the well right before his set ended, ensuring you wouldn't be called away to a table. you started wearing a little more perfume on thursdays, putting on a darker shade of lip balm, hoping that maybe, just once, his dark eyes would snag on you for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.
they never did. his gaze always slid right past you, completely blank, completely untethered.
the worst part was the accidental touches. it didn't happen often — maybe three times over the course of two months. you would slide the cold glass across the wood, and his large fingers would reach out to take it, the rough pad of his thumb grazing your knuckles.
it was always an accident. it had to be. he would pull the glass away with that same maddening expression, completely unaffected, while the brief contact sent a violent shockwave straight up your arm. your skin would burn for hours where he had touched you for less than a second.
you would spend the rest of the night clutching your serving tray against your ribs, nursing the humiliating agony of knowing that you were completely consumed by a man who couldn't even pick you out of a lineup. you were letting him ruin you, and he didn't even know he was doing it.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
it was a rainy mid-november thursday, past two in the morning, and the bar had emptied out into the storm outside. the jukebox was off, leaving only the low hum of the beer fridges and the rhythmic patter of rain against the grimy back window. the other bartender had gone to the back office to count the drawer, leaving you alone to wipe down the sticky surfaces.
he hadn't left with his band. he was sitting on a high stool at the far edge of your well, his leather jacket damp from the rain, spinning a wooden match between his fingers.
you were trying to keep your hands busy, rinsing glasses in the sink, your pulse doing that familiar dance against your ribs just knowing he was sitting three feet away. you kept your head down, tucked behind the shield of your hair, praying your face wasn't as flushed as it felt.
when you finally moved to clear the counter in front of him, you reached out to take his empty glass.
his fingers were still loosely curled around the base of the heavy tumbler. you hesitated for a fraction of a second, your breath catching, before carefully reaching for the rim. but as you pulled it toward you, the back of your knuckles brushed against the side of his hand. a tiny, accidental touch.
you froze, expecting him to pull away like he usually did. but he didn't move. instead, he slowly lifted his head. for the first time in months, his heavy lidded eyes travelled up from the wood of the counter and locked directly onto yours.
the world narrowed down to the space between you. up close, in the dim red light of the neon sign, you could see the sharp line of his jaw, the faint crease between his brows, the intoxicating weight of his focus. it was like breathing in smoke.
he didn't look angry, or amused, or bored. he just looked at you, his gaze steady and quiet, taking you in while your lungs completely locked up.
"you got a light?" he asked. his voice was a low rasp, stripped of the stage's volume, vibrating softly in the empty room. it hit you right in the center of your chest.
"uh…" you stammered, your voice pathetically small. "yeah. yeah, under the register."
you turned around too fast, your hands trembling so violently you almost knocked over a bottle of bitters. you fumbled beneath the counter, your heart hammering against your collarbone like a trapped bird, before your fingers finally caught a small cardboard matchbook.
when you turned back, he was watching you. not with impatience, but with a slow quiet that made your skin prickle with heat.
you reached across the bar, extending the matches. instead of taking the book by the edge, his calloused hand closed around yours, his thumb brushing over the knuckles of your fingers to take it from your grip. the heat of his skin was shocking, a searing contrast to the cold glass you had been washing.
he didn't let go instantly. for two agonizing seconds, his fingers lingered against yours, holding the matchbook — and your hand — between you.
and then, he pulled back.
you stood there, gripping the edge of the sink behind you with white knuckles, unable to move, unable to think. you watched as he struck the match. the sharp tang of sulfur filled the space between you, the tiny orange flame illuminating the sharp planes of his face for a split second before he brought it to the tip of his cigarette.
he took a slow drag, blew a thin trail of smoke toward the ceiling, and tossed the matchbook back onto the wet wood of the bar.
"thanks." he murmured, his eyes lingering on yours for just one more endless beat.
he slid off the stool, pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders, and walked toward the alley exit without another word. the heavy door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the quiet bar with the smell of sweet tobacco and sulfur hanging thick in the air.
you sank against the counter, your knees weak, pressing your burning palm against your chest. you didn't know what it meant. you didn't know if he was just being polite, or if he even remembered your face now that he was out in the rain. but as you stood there in the dark, gasping for air, you knew one thing for certain — the quiet bruise of wanting him had just turned into a fire you had no idea how to put out.
you took the matchbook off the wet bar before you locked up that night. you tucked it into the breast pocket of your apron like a stolen secret, your thumb smoothing over the damp cardboard all the way home on the late night bus. in your small, quiet bedroom, you put it on your nightstand, next to your bed, staring at the charred tips of the few burned matches inside until your eyes burned. it was pathetic. it was the most humiliating thing you had ever done — practically building an altar out of a stranger’s trash.
but the next thursday, the air in the bar felt fundamentally altered.
the invisible line had been crossed, and even if you tried to convince yourself it was all in your head, you couldn’t help feeling hopeful. when his band took the stage, you couldn't even pretend to do your job properly. every muscle in your back was locked, your skin humming with a terrible awareness.
and then, halfway through their third song, it happened.
jay was leaning into a slow riff, his dark hair falling over his face in a beautiful way, when his head tilted. he didn't look at the drunks by the stage. he didn't look at his pedals. his dark, hooded eyes swept straight across the crowded room and locked onto you, standing frozen by the ice well.
it lasted two seconds. maybe three. just an unblinking hold through the blue stage smoke before he looked back down at his guitar.
your breath hitched so hard you choked on it. you backed into the stainless steel counter, hands gripping the edge, telling yourself you were delusional. he was just looking at the clock behind you. he was just scanning the room. he doesn't see you. but it all tasted bitter in your mouth, because the heat in your face was real, and your heart was hammering a desperate rhythm against your ribs.
when the set ended, he didn't wait for the bar to clear out.
he walked straight to your well while the room was still loud and chaotic. he stepped right up to the narrow gap in the counter where you were standing, taking up every inch of space, leaning his forearms over the wood until he was lingering directly in your personal bubble.
up close, the smell of him — stale rain, sweet tobacco, and warm skin — was an absolute sensory assault.
you didn't wait for him to speak. with trembling fingers, you quickly reached for a clean glass and filled it from the pitcher, sliding it toward him without meeting his eyes. "here." you whispered, your voice barely audible over the jukebox.
but he didn't take the glass.
instead, he just leaned in a fraction of an inch closer, his shoulder almost brushing yours across the narrow divider. he placed his silver-ringed hand flat on the bar mat, right beside your trembling wrist. close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his skin.
"didn't even have to ask." he murmured. his voice was a low rumble meant only for you, dropping beneath the noise of the bar. you looked up, trapped, your eyes flying to his.
he was watching you with a quiet intensity. it felt like he was invading your space completely, casually asserting himself over you, letting the quiet weight of his presence suffocate you while you stood there, utterly helpless.
"you always know what i want, y/n?"
the sound of your name on his lips sent a sickening thrill straight down your spine. you hadn't told him your name. you had never introduced yourself. he had simply taken it, learned it in the dark, and was now holding it against your throat like a blade.
"i-" you swallowed, your throat completely bone dry, your mind spinning into a panicked blur. "it's just... you always order water."
a faint, almost imperceptible tilt appeared at the corner of his mouth. not a smile, but something darker.
he finally reached out and grabbed the glass, taking a slow sip as his eyes never left your flushed face, just to set it back down right in front of you. as he turned and walked away into the crowd, you gripped the edge of the sink, gasping for air, completely shocked at the terrifying realization that maybe you weren't a ghost to him anymore.
you spent the next ten minutes in the back room, leaning your forehead against the cool painted cinderblock, violently dismantling every second of it.
you were actually delusional. your nametag was pinned right to the strap of your apron, faded white plastic with your name scratched into the corner. of course he had just read the tag while waiting for his drink, using it to be vaguely polite, and you had turned it into some profound revelation.
the humiliation was a heavy weight in your stomach, but as you picked up your tray to finish closing, you still couldn't stop the embarrassing flutter in your chest.
by three in the morning, the bar was nearly pitch black, saved only by the dim red glow of the exit sign and the streetlights bleeding through the front glass. the doors were locked, and you were clearing the last of the back booths near the stage, desperately trying to hurry so you could escape into the rain.
you didn't realize he was still there until you rounded the corner of the booth.
jay was sitting alone in the dark leather seat, a half empty glass of amber liquor in front of him, his long legs stretched out into the narrow aisle. his jacket was off, draped over the back of the seat, his dark sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal his beautiful skin. he was staring down at his phone, the blue light catching the sharp angle of his cheekbone.
you froze, the heavy tray clattering loudly against your thigh. right then, you tried to pull back, to turn around before he noticed you, but your sneakers squeaked against the slick tile.
he didn't jump. he just slowly raised his head, locking those heavy lidded eyes on you through the gloom.
"sorry." you blurted out, the word tumbling out of your mouth way too fast, way too high. "i-i thought everyone was gone. i'm just clearing tables. i mean, obviously you're here. i can come back later. when you're done." you sounded pathetic, babbling, and completely transparent.
jay didn't move. he just watched you scramble over your own words, his expression completely unreadable. he took a slow sip of his drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass, taking his sweet time while you stood there burning alive under his gaze.
"i'm done." he said softly. his voice sounded even lower in the empty bar, a lazy purr that seemed to coat the inside of your ears.
you nodded frantically, stepping forward to reach for the empty beer bottles on the far side of his table. but to reach them, you had to lean slightly into his space, your apron brushing against the wooden edge of his booth. you were so terrified of touching him that your hands were shaking again, your fingers fumbling uselessly around the neck of a glass.
"you always seem to be in a rush, y/n." he murmured. it wasn't a question, it was a slow statement.
"i'm- i just have a lot to clean." you stammered, your eyes fixed firmly on the sticky tabletop, refusing to look at him. "and the bus stops running at three thirty. so. yeah."
"is that why you're trembling?"
the question hit you like a drop of ice water down your spine. you snapped your head up, your mouth falling open slightly.
he was leaning back against the leather, his head tilted, watching you with quiet curiosity. he didn't look mean. he didn't look cold. he just looked like a man who had caught a small animal in a trap and was casually watching it squirm.
"i'm not-" you swallowed hard, your throat locking up. "it's just cold in here."
a dry breath slipped past his lips — not quite a laugh, but close enough to make your face burn with a sudden heat.
he reached out, his long fingers casually picking up the last empty glass on the far side of the table — the one you had been struggling to reach without leaning over him — and slid it across the wood, setting it directly onto your tray.
his fingertips brushed against yours as he let go. just a brief, heavy whisper of skin.
"there." he rasped, his dark eyes holding yours with a suffocating intensity. "now you won't miss your bus."
you couldn't even mutter a thanks. you just clutched the tray against your chest, offered a jerking nod, and practically ran toward the back kitchen, your heart hammering so violently against your ribs you thought it might burst right out of your chest.
you were an idiot. a complete, tragic idiot, mistaking a hot guy messing with his waitress for something else. but as you leaned against the sink in the back, listening to the quiet sound of his footsteps heading toward the exit, your skin was still screaming where his hand had brushed yours.
you stood there for five long minutes, pressing the cold water tap against your burning wrists, trying to force your pulse to slow down. it was actually embarrassing. you were an open wound, bleeding out in front of a man who was just bored, amused by how easy it was to throw you off balance. you told yourself to get a grip, to untie your apron, pack your bag, and leave before you made a bigger fool of yourself.
you put your coat on, shoved your hands deep into your pockets, and pushed through the heavy metal back door into the alleyway.
the rain was coming down hard now, slapping against the pavement and washing away the grime of the night. you ducked your head, pulling your collar up around your throat, preparing to sprint the three blocks to the bus stop.
you took two steps before you saw him.
jay was leaning against the damp brick wall right beneath the narrow tin awning, protected from the downpour. you stopped dead in your tracks, your heart dropping straight to the soles of your shoes.
"you missed it." he said softly. his voice didn't carry over the sound of the rain — it sat beneath it, low and raspy, vibrating in the narrow space between the brick walls.
"what?" you stammered, your voice catching in your dry throat.
he didn't answer with words. he just raised his left arm, tapping the face of his watch with his thumb. the faint red glow of the streetlight caught the hands.
three thirty four.
"oh." you breathed. the last bus was gone.
you stood there, exposed in the cold rain, water instantly soaking through the canvas of your sneakers, feeling small and completely stranded. you should have turned around. you should have walked back inside, called a cab, or walked the forty minutes home in the freezing wet. but your feet were glued to the pavement. you were starving, so pathetic and desperate for the heat radiating off him that you couldn't move a single inch away.
jay took a long drag of his cigarette, his dark eyes never leaving your wet face. he didn't offer a ride. he didn't offer an apology. he just watched you drown in the rain, taking up all the dry space beneath the awning like he owned it.
then, without taking his eyes off you, he stepped back an inch, dropping his shoulder slightly toward the brick wall. it was the smallest, most dismissive invitation in the world. a silent command.
your body moved before your brain could stop it. you stepped out of the pouring rain and under the narrow awning, sinking right into his space.
the sudden heat off him was staggering. you could smell his familiar scent, taking over your senses so violently you felt dizzy. you were standing mere inches from his chest, your soaked shoulder almost touching his arm, your breath coming in ragged puffs that misted in the cold night air.
"you're soaking wet." he murmured.
he lifted his hand — the same hand that played those dirty riffs on stage — and brought it to your face.
you flinched, your eyes wide, your lungs seizing up entirely. but he didn't pull back. his knuckles pressed gently against the side of your neck, his thumb deliberately wiping a drop of rain off your cheekbone. the touch was so hot it felt like a brand, sending a exquisite shiver straight down your spine.
"you're freezing too." he rasped, his thumb dragging down to the side of your jaw, pressing just hard enough to feel the frantic hammering of your pulse against his skin.
you wanted to tell him to stop. you wanted to push his hand away and call him cruel for playing with you like this, for holding you under his thumb when you meant absolutely nothing to him. but you couldn't speak. you were drowning in him, your body betraying you so completely that you tilted your head a fraction of an inch into his palm, desperate for a heat you knew you couldn’t have.
the moment you yielded, the moment your skin pressed just a fraction of an inch heavier into his palm, a terrifying heat rushed straight down to your core.
it was heavy and sudden, a warm pull in your lower belly that made your knees feel completely useless. you had never felt this before — this raw, desperate spike of arousal just from a thumb brushing your jawline. you were completely swallowed up by the sight of him. you took in the sharp line of his throat as he tilted his head, the rain-dampened strands of hair falling over his forehead, the beautiful shape of his mouth. he was a walking disaster. he smelled like dark tobacco and rain, and he felt like the one thing you had been starving for your entire life.
he held his hand there for three agonizing seconds. you could feel the rough calluses on his fingers holding you in place while your breath hitched erratically. he was studying your face, taking in the dilated state of your pupils and the pathetic parting of your lips.
a low hum vibrated in the back of his throat. and then, with agonizing slowness, he dropped his hand.
the absence of his touch was like a physical blow. the freezing alley air slammed back against your wet skin, and a quiet gasp slipped out of your mouth before you could bite it down. your body actually jerked forward a fraction of an inch, subconsciously chasing the heat of his palm, before you caught yourself and stiffened.
you prayed he hadn’t noticed. he probably hadn’t noticed.
jay lifted his cigarette back to his lips, taking a slow drag. he leaned his head back against the brick, watching you shiver under the awning. he looked entirely untouched by the rain, completely in control, while you were falling apart at the seams. it was intoxicating. the fact that he could reduce you to a trembling, aching mess without even trying made you want to press yourself directly against his chest and let him ruin you completely.
"so what's the plan, y/n?" he rasped, blowing a thick stream of smoke over your head. "you're just going to stand here and freeze?"
you wrapped your arms tightly around your own waist, hugging your damp coat against your body, trying to hide the way your chest was heaving. "i don't... i don't know. i'll figure it out."
"the buses are done." he stated, his tone flat. he wasn't looking at you with pity. he was just observing a fact, watching you squirm under the weight of it.
"i know." you swallowed hard, your voice shaking. "i can walk."
his dark eyes flicked down to your soaked canvas sneakers, then slowly dragged back up the length of your body, lingering for a fraction of a second on the frantic pulse at your throat. a faint scoff left his chest.
"you're not walking." he murmured.
he didn't ask. he didn't offer to be a gentleman. he just dropped his cigarette onto the wet concrete, crushing the orange ember beneath the heavy heel of his boot. he stepped away from the wall, his broad shoulders shifting as he adjusted his leather jacket.
"my car's parked on fourth." he said, his voice dropping into that authoritative cadence.
he turned his back to you and stepped out into the freezing rain. he didn't look over his shoulder to see if you were following. he didn't hold out a hand or wait for you to agree. he just walked into the dark, projecting a quiet gravity, seemingly knowing with absolute certainty that you had no willpower left.
and as the pulsing ache in your stomach twisted even tighter, you stepped out from under the awning and followed him into the rain without a second thought.
the walk to his car was a blur of cold rain and slick pavement. you kept your eyes fixed on the broad line of his shoulders, terrified that if you stopped for even a second, you would wake up and realize you were still alone in the alley. he stopped next to a dark sedan, unlocking it with a sharp click that cut through the sound of the storm.
you slipped into the passenger seat, the heavy door shutting behind you and instantly swallowing the noise of the rain.
the silence inside the car was deafening. the interior was pitch black, but it smelled exactly like him — worn leather, lingering stale smoke, and that sharp scent that made your head spin. a second later, the driver's side door opened, and he folded himself into the seat beside you, bringing a gust of cold air with him.
he didn't put the key in the ignition. he didn't start the engine. he just sat there in the dark, his large hands resting loosely on the steering wheel, staring out the rain-slicked windshield.
you sat rigidly, your damp coat clinging to your skin, your knees pressed tightly together as you tried to suppress a violent shiver. the proximity was suffocating. in the narrow space of the front seat, his physical presence felt massive, a heavy gravity pulling on every nerve ending in your body.
"you didn't even hesitate." he said suddenly. his voice was low, filling the enclosed space until there was no room left to breathe.
you swallowed hard, your fingers gripping the damp fabric of your jeans. "what?"
"i told you i was parked on fourth, and you just followed me into the dark." he turned his head slowly, the dim amber glow of a distant streetlight casting sharp shadows across his face. "you always this trusting, y/n?"
the word hit you directly in the stomach, a hot pull that made your thighs ache. "i was freezing. and you offered to drive me."
he didn't say anything to that. he just watched you for a quiet moment. then, he shifted in his seat, leaning across the center console.
your breath hitched. your body instantly braced for the heat of his touch, your chest tightening in desperate anticipation as his broad shoulder eclipsed your vision. but his hand just brushed past your trembling knee, his knuckles grazing your wet denim, to flick a dial on the dashboard.
the heater roared to life, blasting warm air over your freezing legs.
he leaned back into his own space, leaving you entirely bereft. you hated how badly you had wanted his hand to land on your thigh. you hated how obvious the sharp intake of your breath had been.
"you shouldn't get into cars with guys you don't know." he murmured, his voice a lazy drawl over the sound of the fan.
"i know you." you tried to sound steady, but your voice came out breathless and weak, betraying exactly how rattled you were.
jay let out a quiet sound — a rough exhale that vibrated deep in his chest. "you know my drink order, sweetheart. you don't know me."
the nickname made your stomach drop, somehow feeling more condescending than sweet. the words hung heavy in the warm air, because you couldn't argue with him. you didn't know his last name, didn't know where he lived or what he was like when he wasn't dragging those heavy riffs out of his guitar. you didn't know anything real about him at all.
but you knew the exact shape of his hands. you knew the way his throat moved when he swallowed. you knew that you were sitting in his passenger seat, soaking wet, practically vibrating with need just because his eyes were on you. it was a terrifying, blind obsession, and you were completely powerless to stop it.
he watched you fall silent, his dark eyes dropping slowly to the frantic pulse jumping beneath the wet collar of your shirt. he watched it beat for a long second, the silence stretching so tight you thought it might snap. he didn't mock you. he just observed you, taking in the absolute mess he had reduced you to with nothing more than his proximity.
he finally reached down and turned the key in the ignition. the engine rumbled to life, a deep vibration that rattled the floorboards and shot straight up your spine.
"so," he murmured, resting his arm casually on the back of your seat, his fingers brushing the wet ends of your hair. "where am i taking you?"
you rattled off an address that was fifteen minutes away across town, the name of the street barely making it past the nervous knot in your throat.
he didn't say a word. he just pulled the gearshift down, his knuckles brushing dangerously close to your knee, and eased the heavy car out into the empty streets.
the drive was excruciating. you pressed yourself as far into the passenger door as you could, staring out the window at the blurred city. but you couldn't escape him. the car was entirely his domain, saturated with his scent and the brooding quiet he carried everywhere. looking out the window didn't help either — the wet glass just acted like a mirror against the dark night, reflecting the sharp line of his jaw, the relaxed slump of his shoulders, the careless way he drove with one hand resting at the bottom of the steering wheel.
his other hand was still resting on the center console. right in the narrow space between your seats, mere inches from your thigh.
the hypnotic sweep of the windshield wipers was the only sound in the car besides the low roar of the heater. the warm air was slowly thawing your frozen skin, but the heat pooling low in your stomach had absolutely nothing to do with the temperature.
he stopped at a red light. the car idled with a deep purr that vibrated up through the floorboards.
jay shifted his hand on the console, his long fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the dark plastic. every time his hand moved, your eyes darted toward it, completely hypnotized by the heavy silver rings glinting in the dim amber light of the streetlamps.
he caught you looking. his eyes flicked from the windshield to you, catching your gaze in the reflection of the glass before you could tear it away.
"you pay a lot of attention." he murmured into the quiet.
you flinched, your fingers tightening around the damp canvas of your coat. you didn't look at him. you just stared straight ahead at the rain hitting the glass. "what?"
"on thursdays." he clarified softly, his voice a gravelly hum that seemed to wrap itself right around your throat. "you always stand in the exact same spot by the ice well. you don't talk to anyone, you just watch. right?"
your heart gave a sickening lurch, hammering against your ribs like it was trying to break out. he knew.
the panic seized your chest, but beneath it, a dark wave of arousal rushed straight down your body.
because he was right. you did watch. you had spent months completely consumed by the way he played, memorizing every microscopic detail. you knew how his large hands slid down the neck of the guitar, fingers pressing effortlessly into the frets. you knew the exact moment his eyes would slip shut during the bridge of that one slow song, lost in the dragging rhythm. you knew the way his hips moved when he leaned into the microphone, a slow sway that made your mouth go completely dry.
every thursday, you stood in the dark and let the deep bass of his guitar rattle around in your chest, imagining what those heavy hands would feel like mapping out the shape of your waist instead of the instrument. you had spent hours agonizing over what that kind of intense focus would feel like directed solely at you, letting the thought pool hot and heavy between your thighs until you could barely stand the friction of your own jeans.
but you couldn't just tell him that. "it's a small bar." you lied, your voice wavering pathetically. you swallowed hard, trying to sound indifferent, trying not to let him hear how badly you were shaking. "there's nowhere else to look."
jay didn't argue. he didn't call you a liar or push you to confess. he just let out a quiet exhale that sounded entirely too much like a laugh.
the light turned green. he looked back at the road and hit the gas, the sudden acceleration pressing you deep into the leather seat.
he didn't take his hand off the center console. instead, he shifted it just a fraction of an inch closer, his knuckles grazing the damp fabric of your coat where it spilled over your leg. he just left his hand there, hovering in the agonizing space right beside your thigh in absolute silence.
when the car finally rolled to a stop near your apartment building, the deep rumble of the engine stayed alive between you. you gripped your bag tightly, your knees pressed together under your wet coat, desperate to escape before your body gave you away completely.
"this is me." you murmured, your voice breathless. "thanks again. for the ride."
you reached for the handle, but before your fingers could pull it, his voice cut through the dark.
"you didn't ask why i was out there."
you froze, your hand hovering over the cold plastic latch. "what?"
jay shifted in the driver's seat, resting one wrist over the top of the steering wheel. the light from the streetlamp caught the sharp angle of his jaw, his heavy eyes fixed entirely on you.
"in the alley." he said, his voice a low rasp. "you just stepped under the awning like you were expecting me to be standing there."
your heart gave a sickening thud against your ribs. a sudden rush of heat pooled low in your stomach, heavy and aching.
"i- i wasn't expecting you." you answered, the words tripping helplessly over your tongue. "i thought you were just smoking."
"i finished my cigarette ten minutes before you walked out the back door." he murmured.
the air left your lungs in an instant. your mind raced into a dizzying tailspin. did he wait for you? why would he wait for you? you tried to convince yourself it was a coincidence, that he was just killing time, but the deliberate way he was watching you made your throat go completely bone dry.
"then... why were you waiting?" you whispered, the question slipping out before you could stop it, pathetic and fragile in the quiet car.
jay didn't answer right away. he slowly leaned across the center console, taking up all the air in the vehicle, bringing the suffocating heat of his body right into yours. you braced your back against the passenger door, your chest heaving, your pulse hammering violently in your ears.
he didn't touch you. he just rested his forearm against the top of your seat, his fingers trailing so close to your shoulder that you could feel the heat radiating off his leather jacket.
"why do you think, y/n?" he rasped softly.
the proximity was agonizing. up close, you could see his beautiful features and the dark intensity in his eyes. you wanted so desperately to say something — anything — to bridge the inch between you, to tilt your head up and sink into him. you were starving for it, completely undone by the mere possibility that he wanted you back.
but the fear was bigger. the humiliating certainty that you were just reading into things, that he was playing with a clearly anxious woman who didn't know how to handle him.
"i don't know." you stammered, your eyes dropping helplessly to his lips before darting back to his eyes.
jay stared at you for two endless beats, taking in the flushed heat on your face, the breathless parting of your lips, the absolute ruin he had made of your composure.
an imperceptible tilt appeared at the corner of his mouth. "liar." he murmured softly.
before you could process the word, his hand moved, his thumb casually reaching out to drag over the sharp line of your collarbone — just a fleeting stroke of skin that sent a shockwave directly down your spine — before he reached past you and clicked the door handle open.
the cold night air rushed into the car, snapping the suffocating heat between you like a twig.
jay pulled back into his seat, his large hands settling back onto the steering wheel, completely unbothered, his face a mask of calm composure.
"go inside." he said quietly, looking back out at the rain-soaked street. "you need some sleep."
you sat there, paralyzed, your body throbbing with an unfulfilled ache, your heart slamming against your chest. he had left you completely exposed, dangling on the edge, and pulled back without a second thought.
"goodnight, jay." you choked out.
you scrambled out of the car into the freezing rain, your knees so weak you practically stumbled up the steps to your building. as you fumbled with your keys in the dark doorway, your skin still burning where his thumb had touched you, the sound of his engine faded into the night — leaving you alone in the cold, utterly consumed.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
the seven days between thursdays felt less like a week and more like a slow fever.
your sleep schedule was done for. every time you closed your eyes, you were back in the dark interior of his car, feeling the phantom heat of his thumb dragging over your collarbone, hearing that soft liar echoing in your ears. the humiliation of bracing for a kiss he never gave you burned like an open wound, but the sickening hunger it left behind was a thousand times worse.
by ten o'clock the following thursday, the bar was a suffocating wall of heat, noise, and smoke. you spent the entire set doing everything in your power to avoid looking toward the stage. you kept your head down, aggressively wiping down the wooden counters, restocking glasses, pretending you were entirely immune to his presence. but your body betrayed you at every turn. the heavy rumble of his guitar vibrated straight through the floorboards, shooting directly up your spine and settling in the pit of your stomach.
the second their last song ended, you grabbed an empty ice bucket and escaped down the dimly lit back hallway toward the heavy stainless steel ice machine.
the back hallway was quiet, smelling of damp concrete and cold metal. you shoved the bucket under the chute and hit the lever, the loud avalanche of crushing ice filling the silence. you leaned your forehead against the cold material, closing your eyes, taking a deep breath to force your pulse to slow down.
"you missed the solo." the voice came from the dark shadows behind you — low and entirely unhurried. you snapped your head up, your heart leaping straight into your throat.
jay was leaning his broad shoulder against the damp brick wall a few feet away, his arms folded loosely across his chest. he had just come off stage; his dark hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead, and his usual black shirt was unfastened at the top, revealing the sharp line of his chest. he looked completely relaxed while you instantly unraveled.
"i was working." you stammered, your fingers tightening around the edge of the metal bucket until your knuckles turned white.
"you were working last week, too." he murmured, his voice a smooth rasp. "didn't stop you from staring then."
a hot wave of heat rushed up your neck, burning your cheeks. you tried to swallow, but your throat was bone dry. "i wasn't staring."
jay didn't argue. he just pushed off the brick wall with effortless grace, taking two slow steps toward you.
the space between you vanished in an instant. the sheer size of him in the narrow hallway was suffocating. he brought a staggering wall of heat with him — saturated in that intoxicating scent of distortion, fresh sweat, tobacco, and warm skin that made your head spin. it felt like your senses were made to betray you, every instinct sharpening and blurring at once until all you could register was him standing there, stealing the air from your lungs without saying a word.
you pressed your back flat against the cold metal of the ice machine, completely trapped.
"you're terrible at lying, y/n." he murmured softly.
he didn't touch you, but he reached past your waist, his long fingers resting casually on the edge of the ice machine right next to your hip. he leaned in slightly, his broad shoulders blocking out the hallway light, casting his sharp features in deep shadows.
"i'm not lying." you whispered, though your voice cracked pathetically on the last word. up close, the sight of him was overwhelming. you took in the dark fringe of his eyelashes, the faint sheen of moisture on his throat, the beautiful shape of his lips. you were practically vibrating, starving for him to bridge the inch between you, desperate to feel those heavy hands on your body.
jay tilted his head, his dark eyes slowly sweeping over your face. "why didn't you look at me tonight?" he asked softly, his tone completely neutral, as if he were asking about the weather.
"you told me i watch too much." you choked on the words, your eyes helplessly dropping to his mouth before darting back to his. it was becoming a bad habit at this point.
an almost imperceptible tilt appeared at the corner of his sharp mouth. "i said you pay attention." he corrected, his voice dropping an octave, slipping over your skin like velvet. "i didn't tell you to stop."
the words hit you directly in the stomach, a hot pull that made your inner thighs press tightly together beneath your apron. your mind completely short-circuited. you stood there, paralyzed, drowning in the absolute control he held over you.
he lifted his other hand — slowly, agonizingly slow — and let his knuckles lightly graze the side of your neck.
the touch sent a blinding shockwave straight down your spine. a soft gasp slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it. you tilted your head just a fraction of a millimeter into his hand, completely surrendered, silently begging him to take more, to press you against the cold metal and ruin you right there in the dark.
but he didn't pull you closer. instead, his thumb lightly dragged up over your jawline, holding you captive in the dark for one more breathless second.
"your ice is overflowing." he rasped softly, his breath fanning hot against your mouth.
and then, he stepped back.
the sudden absence of his touch was a physical blow. the cold hallway air slammed back against your skin, leaving you feeling entirely breathless and humiliated.
you looked down with wide, unspooling eyes. the ice machine was overflowing, cold cubes spilling over the rim of the bucket and clattering onto the concrete floor around your shoes.
jay stood there, entirely unbothered, his composure completely intact as if he hadn't just brought you to the absolute edge of sanity. he casually shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans.
"see you around, y/n." he murmured indifferently. he turned his back to you and strolled down the hallway, disappearing back into the crowded bar without a single glance over his shoulder.
you slid down the front of the ice machine until your knees hit the cold floor, clutching your arms around your waist, shivering uncontrollably. your skin was still burning, your body throbbing with a desperate feeling you had never experienced before.
he was playing you like an instrument. the anger didn't arrive all at once, starting as a bitter burn in the pit of your stomach while you picked ice cubes off the floor, tossing them one by one into the drain.
he was doing it on purpose. the thought took root, cold and ugly, pulling you up off your knees. it wasn't an accident. it wasn't just a string of awkward coincidences or a series of moments where you happened to misread the room. the deliberate way he moved into your space, the exact second he chose to drop his touch — it was calculated. he pushed just far enough to watch you break, to feel your pulse go erratic against his skin, and then he pulled away the second you offered yourself up to him.
he was entertaining himself. you were just a pathetic waitress at a bar, practically begging a stupidly hot guitarist to notice her, giving him an ego boost on his walk out to the alley.
and yet, as you hoisted the heavy bucket back up to your hip, a sickening wave of doubt crashed over your anger, drowning it out.
what if he wasn't? what if you were completely insane? what if he was just an indifferent, naturally invasive man who stepped into people's personal space without thinking twice about it? what if every single drop of tension you felt was a pathetic fantasy you had constructed inside your own lonely head?
the thought made your face burn hotter than the humiliation. you were torn straight down the middle — half of you furious at him for being a sadistic bastard, the other half utterly disgusted with yourself for being delusional enough to think he gave a damn.
by two in the morning, the main floor had finally drained of people.
you were behind the counter, desperately praying you could just finish up and escape into the cold night air. right in that moment, jen, the server who was supposed to lock up with you, rushed out of the back hallway, clutching her coat.
"y/n, i am so, so sorry." she breathed, looking panicked. "my sister just called. her car overheated on the highway and she's stuck on the shoulder. can you please finish wiping down and lock the back door? the drawer is already counted."
"yeah... go ahead." you murmured, forcing a small smile despite the sudden drop in your stomach. "drive safe."
she thanked you three times and bolted out the front entrance, the heavy door clicking shut behind her.
you were alone. or at least, you should have been.
you couldn't set the alarm or lock the rear exit because jay was still inside. the rest of his band had picked up the heavy amps ten minutes ago, their voices long faded down the alley, but jay hadn't left.
he was sitting on a tall stool in the far, shadowy corner near the empty stage, a single overhead amber light allowing you to see him. he had his electric guitar resting against his hip — unplugged, raw, and quiet. his fingers were sliding over the frets, dragging out lazy riffs that vibrated through the empty room.
the sound was hypnotic. it echoed softly against the bare brick walls, that dragging rhythm that always shot straight down your spine.
you were supposed to be cleaning, but you were completely paralyzed. you stood behind the bar with the damp rag clutched in your hand, mesmerized by the effortless way his fingers moved over the dark instrument. you hated him for it. you hated how easily he held you captive without even looking at you, how a few lazy notes from his hands could make your knees feel hollow.
and then, the music stopped. a single string vibrated into silence. slowly, jay tilted his head back, his dark eyes locking onto yours across the empty room.
a lazy, mocking smirk spread across his lips. "still paying attention, sweetheart?" he rasped. his voice carried effortlessly through the quiet bar, laced with a condescending warmth. "thought you said there was nowhere else to look."
a stinging heat rushed up your neck, burning your cheeks. you gripped the rag tighter, your jaw setting in a rigid line. "i'm waiting for you to leave so i can lock up."
"are you?" he slowly unstrapped his guitar, resting it against the stool with agonizing slowness. he didn't look bothered. he didn't look tired. he looked like a predator who had just spent the last two hours watching you squirm in a cage he built for you.
he shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans and began walking slowly toward the bar. every step he took sent your heart hammering violently against your ribs. you stood your ground behind the mahogany counter, trying desperately to look cold, distant, and unbothered. but as he drew closer, the sheer physical weight of his presence started stripping away your meager defenses.
he didn't stop on the other side of the counter. without taking his eyes off you, jay reached down, unlatched the small wooden gate at the side of the bar, and stepped straight into your space.
the sound of his heavy boots against the floorboards behind the counter was a shockwave. people weren't allowed back there. it was the one physical barrier that kept you safe from him, and he had just shattered it without a second thought.
"jay-" you stammered, your composure instantly fracturing as you backed up until your thighs slammed against the low liquor display behind you. "you can't be back here."
"make me leave, then." he murmured smoothly.
he didn't stop until he was towering directly over you in the narrow aisle, blocking out the amber light, trapping you between his broad chest and the glass bottles behind you. the sudden heat coming off his body was overwhelming.
he looked down at you, his eyes utterly ruthless as he took in your heaving chest and the pathetic way your breath was hitching in your throat.
"you look annoyed, y/n." he rasped, a mocking chuckle vibrating deep in his chest. "what's the matter?"
the words hit you like a slap, raw and humiliating, laying your most embarrassing secret completely bare. your mouth parted in a sharp gasp, your eyes wide with shock. "i- i’m not-"
"lying again? mmh?" he purred softly, cutting you off before you could even build a defense.
he reached out, his fingers taking the damp rag out of your trembling hand and tossing it carelessly over his shoulder onto the sink. your hands were left completely empty, completely exposed.
"you've been standing in the dark watching me for months, haven’t you?" he rasped, stepping half an inch closer until the front of his unbuttoned shirt pressed directly against your apron. "you practically shook out of your clothes when i put my hand near your leg in the car. and when i touched your neck by the ice machine, you tilted your head right into it. aren’t you such a desperate little thing?"
every single word was a cruel sentence, destroying any remaining delusion that it had all been in your head. he had known the entire time, and he was taking immense pleasure in watching you drown in it.
you felt a tear of overwhelming frustration sting the back of your eyes. "you're being an asshole, jay." you choked out, your voice trembling with a mixture of intense anger and something else you didn’t want to accept.
jay didn't flinch. his smile only widened, turning dark and entirely devoid of mercy. "maybe." he murmured softly.
he slowly raised his hand, his calloused palm sliding up your throat, his fingers wrapping firmly around the back of your neck. his grip was warm, heavy, and absolute, tilting your face up until your lips were mere millimeters from his. "but you're still shaking for me, from just playing a few notes." he rasped, his thumb pressing deliberately over your frantic pulse, feeling the absolute ruin he had reduced you to. "you hate it, but you want me so bad you can barely stand up. don't you?"
your mouth parted, but no sound came out. you wanted to deny it, to tear his hand away from your neck and spit some lie about how he was conceited, how you didn't care. but his thumb was pressing so firmly against your throat, feeling the chaotic rhythm of your heart betraying every single thought. you were completely exposed, pinned against the low display shelf, with his dark-clothed body trapping you in.
"i..." you choked out, your eyes darting helplessly to his lips before flying back to his mocking eyes.
"that's what i thought." he murmured, his voice a low purr of absolute victory. he slowly let his hand slide down your neck, his knuckles dragging over your collarbone with agonizing slowness before he stepped back, taking that heat with him. you felt a cold shiver run down your spine at the sudden loss of his touch.
he looked down at you, his gaze sweeping over your flushed face and your trembling hands, a slow smirk playing on his lips.
"you're a mess, y/n." he rasped softly, his tone laced with a teasing warmth. "i have my amp setup at my place." he murmured, leaning his hip against the bar, looking entirely relaxed while you were practically vibrating. "since you like watching so much, come back with me. i'll play for you. privately."
the condescending arrogance of his voice should have made you scream. he was being an absolute asshole, treating you like some easy toy he could wind up and watch spin. you knew you should say no. you knew that going to his apartment was walking straight into a trap where he would keep pulling the strings.
but the hunger inside you was a physical sickness. it had been building for seven long days, for months of thursdays in the dark, and you were too weak to fight it.
"okay." you whispered, your voice pathetically small.
jay's smirk widened, dark and possessive. "mmh. grab your coat."
the drive was a silent torture. the rain lashed against the windshield of his car, the steady scrape of the wipers doing nothing to ease the suffocating tension in the small space. jay drove with one hand, looking completely unbothered, while you sat frozen in the passenger seat, your hands knotted tightly in your lap, your mind spinning in a dizzying loop of anticipation and shame.
when he finally unlocked the door to his loft, the darkness of his space swallowed you whole. it smelled heavily of tobacco, old wood, and the warm scent of his skin.
he didn't take his leather jacket off. he just walked over to a low leather couch, leaving the lights off except for the dim streetlamp glow filtering through the wet windowpane. he picked up his electric guitar, plugging it into a small amp on the floor. the heavy hum of the electricity filled the room, making your pulse spike.
"sit." he commanded softly, gesturing to the edge of the low table right in front of him.
you slowly crossed the room, your knees shaking so badly you could barely keep your footing. you sat down on the edge of the wood, your knees practically touching his denim-clad thighs.
jay didn't wait. his fingers settled over the strings as he began to play.
it wasn't the loud music from the stage. it was a slow, dragging, incredibly dirty riff. the distorted notes vibrated right through the floor, straight up through the table, settling like liquid fire directly between your thighs. the sound was hypnotic, wrapping around your senses until you couldn't think, couldn't breathe, your eyes locked onto the effortless movement of his hands.
he looked up through the dark fringe of his hair, his dark eyes locking onto yours as he kept playing, his fingers sliding over the frets with agonizing precision.
"look at you." he rasped over the low hum of the guitar, a toxic smile curving his lips. "you're practically dripping just from the sound of it, aren't you?"
"jay, i..." you whispered, your chest heaving, the friction of your own jeans against your aching core becoming completely unbearable. the music was winding you so tight you felt like you were going to snap.
"what is it, sweetheart?" he teased, his fingers plucking a deep chord that sent a literal shiver straight down your spine. "you wanted me to play for you. you've been dreaming about this. watch my hands, y/n. tell me what you want them to do to you."
the agonizing teasing was too much. you leaned forward, your hands gripping his knees, your eyes wide and pleading in the dark. "put it down. please."
jay didn't put the guitar down. instead, he stopped playing, the last distorted note echoing into the dark corners of the room before dying out. he looked down at your hands clutching his knees, his dark eyes glinting with a slow amusement that made your stomach twist.
"put it down?" he murmured, his voice a gravelly rasp. "why would i do that when you're paying such close attention?"
he slowly raised his right hand. pinched between his long fingers was his guitar pick — a small, thin piece of black plastic, still warm from his grip.
you stared at it, your breath hitching as he brought it toward your face. he didn't touch you with his hand. instead, he used the flat edge of the pick to trace the line of your lower lip. he dragged it slowly, deliberately, pulling the sensitive skin down just enough to force a quiet gasp from your mouth.
"you want my hands so bad." he whispered, his eyes locked on your parted lips as he slid the pick down your chin, tracing the sensitive skin of your throat. "but you haven't earned them yet."
the sharp edge of the plastic felt like fire against your heated skin. you shivered, your eyes fluttering shut as he dragged the pick further down, slipping it past the collar of your shirt, tracing the valley between your breasts, and then down, down, until he pressed it firmly against the seam of your jeans.
an agonizing throb bloomed between your thighs. you whined, your hips instinctively twitching upward, begging for the pressure, but jay immediately pulled the pick away, letting out a soft chuckle.
"so impatient." he teased, his voice dropping into a velvet purr. "since you love my music so much, i think we should let the guitar do the work."
before you could process his words, jay reached out. his heavy hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he easily lifted you off the edge of the table.
you thought he was pulling you onto his lap. you thought you were finally going to get the friction you were starving for.
but as he sat you down, he didn't pull you against his thighs. instead, he guided you right over the solid body of his electric guitar.
your breath left your lungs in a violent shock. you were straddling the hard wood of the instrument, the cool finish pressing directly against your soaking wet center through the thin fabric of your jeans.
"jay-" you gasped, your hands flying to his broad shoulders to steady yourself.
"shhh." he murmured, his hands wrapping firmly around your hips, pinning you down so you couldn't pull away. "stay right there."
he reached around your body, his long fingers settling over the fretboard and the strings behind you. you were completely caged by his arms, trapped on top of the instrument, your face buried in the crook of his neck. you could smell the intoxicating scent of his warm skin, so close you could taste it.
and then, jay struck a low, heavy chord.
the electric guitar was plugged into the amp on the floor. the distorted sound didn't just fill the room — it vibrated violently through the solid wood of the guitar's body, shooting a physical shockwave of vibration directly into your pelvic bone, straight to your sensitive core.
your back arched off him, a helpless cry tearing from your throat as your head fell back. the unexpected intensity of the vibration sent a blinding wave of pleasure straight to your brain, making your inner thighs tremble uncontrollably.
"do you like that, sweetheart?" jay rasped in your ear, his voice laced with a cruel warmth.
he struck another chord, a slow, dragging rhythm. the vibration hummed continuously against your wet denim, winding you so tight you felt like you were going to snap. you began to move, your hips instinctively grinding down against the hard wood of the guitar, desperate to chase the friction.
but jay's hands tightened on your hips, holding you perfectly still.
"i didn't tell you to move." he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "just take the music."
"please, jay, let me move." you sobbed softly, the denial of friction becoming a literal torture. your core was throbbing, practically weeping against the hard instrument, desperate for any release. "please, i want to slide, let me-"
"tell me what you want." he commanded, his fingers plucking a resonant note that made your entire body shudder against the wood. "say it, y/n. tell me what you're riding."
"your guitar." you cried out, your pride completely shattered, your face burning with a mixture of intense shame and overwhelming arousal. "i'm riding your guitar. please, jay..."
a dangerous chuckle vibrated against your chest. "good girl." he murmured, his grip on your hips finally loosening just a fraction, allowing you to slide. "now show me how desperate you are. ride it for me."
with his hands guiding your hips, you slowly began to shift, dragging your aching center over the vibrating wood of his guitar. every time you moved, he plucked another deep chord, the physical vibrations combining with the friction of your jeans to push you closer and closer to the absolute edge of sanity. you clutched his shoulders, your eyes rolled back, completely ruined, riding his instrument in the dark while he watched your undoing with a victorious smile.
you shifted against the smooth finish, your head thrown back as the continuous vibration of another low chord hummed straight through your pelvic bone. every friction-filled glide of your jeans against the wood was sweet torture, but you couldn't get close enough. you were chasing a release that remained agonizingly out of reach, completely trapped in the rhythm of his hands.
jay watched the desperate tilt of your hips, his eyes dark and dilated in the shadows. he let out a rough hum, the sound vibrating against your chest where your bodies brushed.
"look at you." he rasped, his voice dripping with that toxic satisfaction. "ruined for me. and i haven't even touched you yet."
he kept his left hand on the fretboard, casually holding down a rumbling note that kept the wood buzzing against your wet heat. but his right hand left the strings.
you opened your eyes, blinking past the tears of frustration, and saw him holding that thin, black guitar pick again.
your breath hitched, your hips freezing for a split second. "jay..."
"i didn't tell you to stop, y/n." he murmured, his tone a mocking warning. "keep moving."
you swallowed hard, forced to slowly drag your aching core over the vibrating wood again, your eyes locked onto his fingers.
jay slowly brought his hand down between your bodies, his fingers reaching the button of your jeans. with agonizing slowness, he popped it open. the sound of your zipper being dragged down felt incredibly loud in the quiet room.
he didn't slide his hand inside to cup you. he didn't give you the warm touch of his palm that you were begging for.
instead, his knuckles brushed your stomach as he slipped his hand just inside the parted denim, the cool edge of the plastic pick sliding past the damp lace of your underwear.
the second the thin plastic pressed directly against your swollen clit, you let out a broken sob. your back arched, your fingers digging violently into his shoulders as a blinding jolt of pleasure shot straight to your core.
"so wet." jay whispered, his voice a dark purr right against your ear.
he didn't move his hand away. as you instinctively tried to push your hips forward into the pressure, his fingers held the pick perfectly still, letting the flat edge of the plastic press firmly against your sensitive bud. at the same time, his other hand plucked another deep chord on the guitar.
the double assault was completely overwhelming. the wood vibrated violently against your pelvic bone while the thin plastic pick teased the most sensitive point of your core.
"slide for me, baby." he commanded softly, his grip on your hips tightening just enough to guide you. "rub yourself right against the pick, y/n. let me feel how much you actually want it."
you cried out, the humiliating filth of his words sending a fresh wave of heat down your thighs. but you couldn't stop. you were entirely unraveled, completely at his mercy. you slowly shifted your hips, dragging yourself over the vibrating guitar body while the hard edge of his pick scraped and teased over your dripping heat with every agonizing movement.
"please, jay." you wept, your forehead pressing into his neck as you frantically chased the edge, your inner thighs shaking so hard you could barely hold yourself up over the instrument. "please... it's too much."
"it's exactly what you wanted, sweetheart." he rasped, his eyes watching your face with possessive intensity. he dragged the flat edge of the pick slowly up and down, parting your sensitive folds, coating the plastic in your own slick moisture while the guitar kept humming beneath you. "show me how much you can take before you break."
he brought the slick guitar pick back down, but he didn't slide it. instead, he pressed the very tip of the plastic right against the swollen center of your pleasure. he began to vibrate his hand with the same rapid motion he used to shred on stage, turning the plastic pick into a dizzying blur against your clit.
the sensation was so sharp, so violently intense, that your vision literally went black at the edges. you screamed, your hips bucking frantically against his grip, trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure. but his hands on your hips were like iron bands, locking you down, forcing you to take every single agonizing vibration.
"jay! please, please- i'm going to-" you cried out, your fingers clawing desperately at the leather of his jacket, tears finally spilling over your hot cheeks.
"mmh? " he teased as he kept his hand vibrating against you, pushing you closer and closer to a messy peak.
in a fleeting second, he stopped his hand, holding the pick perfectly still, pressing it hard against your throbbing bud. you gasped, hovering on the very brink of your orgasm, your body trembling, completely suspended in mid-air.
"fuck, jay!" you wept, your voice breaking, completely ruined, any ounce of your dignity long gone, scattered on the floor of his dark loft. "please let me. please, jay."
jay stared up at you, his dark eyes flashing with a heavy hunger that finally burned away the mocking amusement. his chest was heaving now, his own breathing ragged as he took in the sight of you — completely stripped of your defenses, crying and begging for him, entirely his.
but he didn’t budge. he kept his hand absolutely still, holding you hostage on the very peak of the cliff, your body trembling so violently the guitar strings beneath you hummed a chaotic note.
he leaned forward, his face close enough that his warm, tobacco-scented breath brushed your wet cheek. the dark smirk on his lips was entirely devoid of pity.
"crying over a guitar pick. you’re so easy it’s almost boring, y/n." he whispered, a low chuckle scraping against your ear.
a sob caught in your throat, your fingers clenching the leather of his jacket. the sheer humiliation of his words burned, but the ache between your thighs was a screaming demand, drowning out every shred of your dignity. "jay... i can't... i need-"
"what do you need?" he interrupted smoothly, his silver-ringed fingers gently tapping the side of your neck, right over your throbbing pulse. "tell me exactly how pathetic you are right now. let me hear it."
you shook your head, trying to hide your face in his shoulder, but he caught your chin in a firm grip, forcing you to look into his ruthless eyes.
"say it." he commanded, his voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet purr. "tell me you're just a desperate slut begging for whatever crumbs i feel like giving you."
"i'm... i'm desperate. i’ve been waiting for so long, jay." you wept, the words tasting like ash and fire on your tongue. "please, please let me come..."
his dark eyes flared with a predatory satisfaction. "my patient girl. that’s it." he rasped, the praise dripping with toxic sweetness.
he didn't remove the pick. instead, he gripped your hips with bruising force, pinning you down, and struck one final chord on the guitar. at the very same instant, his hand holding the pick flicked sharply, dragging the flat edge hard against your overstimulated clit.
the dual explosion of the violent vibration and his sharp touch shattered you. a loud, broken moan tore from your throat as your body bucked wildly against his hands. a violent orgasm crashed over you, your inner thighs spasming uncontrollably as you flooded the hard wood of his instrument. you clutched him like a drowning person, your face buried in his neck, sobbing through the exhausting intensity of the release.
jay didn't move. he just held you tightly against him, letting you shiver and break, listening to your ragged gasps with a quiet hum.
when the worst of the tremors finally began to fade, leaving you hollow and completely spent, he slowly let go of your hips. he reached down, casually tossing the wet guitar pick onto the table, before sliding his hands under your thighs and lifting you off the instrument.
he set the guitar aside, letting it clatter carelessly against the floor, and pulled your limp body directly onto his lap. you slumped against his chest, too weak to even lift your head.
jay slowly ran his fingers through your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle, though his voice remained laced with that same mocking warmth.
"look at the mess you made of my guitar, sweetheart." he murmured, his breath hot against your ear as he pressed a possessive kiss to your temple. "i guess you're going to have to clean that up, too. but first..."
his hand slid down your back, his fingers digging into the bare skin of your hip, pulling you flush against the hard bulge of his jeans. "you're going to have to thank me."
you shivered against him, your forehead still pressed into his neck as your chest rose and fell in shallow gasps. below you, the thick ridge of his jeans pressed right against your freshly ruined core.
the contrast was absolute torture. every tiny twitch of his thighs sent a jolt of electricity straight to your overstimulated nerves, making your hips shudder helplessly on his lap.
"i'm waiting, y/n." jay murmured. his large hand slid up your thigh, his calloused thumb digging deliberately into the sensitive flesh of your inner leg, forcing them wider. "where is my thank you?"
you swallowed hard, your throat tight with a humiliating mixture of tears and burning lust. you wanted to fight him. you wanted to claw at his chest and scream at him for being so unbelievably cruel. but you were too far gone. he had stripped away every single defense you had, leaving you completely raw.
"thank you..." you whispered, your voice cracking pathetically. "thank you, jay."
a condescending chuckle vibrated against your chest. jay tilted his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a look of pure triumph. "is that it?" he rasped, his hand sliding further up, his fingers brushing the wet warmth between your thighs, making you gasp and arch into his hand. "sounds a little half-hearted. especially after you made such a disgusting mess of my gear."
"jay, please." you begged, your hands clenching the leather of his jacket as you desperately ground your hips down against his hand, trying to force his fingers inside you. "i can't... please, i need you. inside me. now."
"you're so greedy." he purred, his fingers teasing the very edge of your wetness but refusing to slide in, intentionally keeping you hovering on the edge of madness. "you spent months pretending you weren’t even looking at me, and now you’re begging like a dog on my lap. do you want to feel how big i am compared to that little plastic toy? is that it?"
"fuck, jay. please." you begged, completely abandoned to the filth of his words.
that did it. the last thread of jay's mocking restraint finally snapped. his dark eyes flared with a vicious hunger, his breathing turning incredibly heavy. in one swift, incredibly rough motion, he grabbed your waist and flipped you over, slamming your back flat against the leather couch. the impact knocked the wind out of your lungs, but before you could even inhale, jay was hovering over you, his heavy body pinning you down.
he didn't waste any time. he reached down and aggressively ripped his belt open, the metallic clinking of his buckle sounding incredibly loud in the dark room. he shoved his jeans down, exposing his pulsing cock, already slick and fully prepared to ruin you.
"you said you've been waiting for this for months, right?" jay rasped, his voice entirely stripped of its quiet playfulness. he grabbed both of your knees, brutally pushing them up toward your chest, exposing you completely beneath him. "let's see if you can actually handle it, or if you're just all talk."
"jay-"
you didn't even get to finish his name. jay leaned down, his large hand wrapping firmly around your throat to keep you still, and plunged himself straight into you in one deep, merciless thrust.
a choked cry tore from your throat as your eyes rolled back. he was massive, stretching you to your absolute limit, filling the aching void that had been torturing you for weeks. the friction was so intense, so violently good, that your hips immediately tried to rise to meet him.
but jay kept you pinned, his hand on your throat tightening just enough to command your absolute obedience. "don't move." he growled, a possessive sneer on his lips as he began to pull back and thrust into you again, harder this time. the slapping sound of his skin against yours filled the quiet loft, dirty and loud. "just lie there and take it."
he began to pace himself with a brutal rhythm, his thrusts heavy and deep, bottoming out against you with a force that made the entire couch shake. every time he slammed into you, his silver rings bit into the skin of your hips, leaving bruises that would remind you of this night for weeks.
"look at me." he commanded roughly, slamming into you so hard your head bounced against the leather cushion. "look at me while i finally fuck you, y/n."
you opened your tear-filled eyes, staring up at his beautiful face. he looked absolutely lethal in the dim light — his jaw clenched, sweat dripping down his neck, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a consuming intensity. he was mocking you, degrading you, treating you like nothing more than a place to release his own dirty urges, and yet you had never felt so utterly alive.
"you're so tight." jay growled, his pace turning fast and frantic, his control finally fracturing under the sheer heat of your wet walls crushing around him. he leaned down, his mouth catching yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue invading your mouth just as roughly as his lower half was splitting you open.
you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in as deep as he could possibly go, a shattered moan muffling against his lips. he bit down hard on your bottom lip before pulling back just enough to look down at you, his breathing heavy and ragged, his hips never slowing down for a single second.
"you really thought you were subtle, didn't you?" he rasped, his voice dripping with that arrogant tone as he slammed back into you, making your entire body jolt against the leather. "every single thursday night. standing in the shadowy corner behind the bar, pretending to clean the same spot on the counter for twenty minutes straight."
your eyes widened slightly through your tears, a soft sob breaking out of your chest as his words laid you completely bare.
"i saw you every fucking time, y/n." he growled, a wicked smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as he thrust deeper, hitting that exact sensitive spot inside you until your toes curled. "watching my hands on the fretboard. biting your lip like a pathetic little stalker. wondering if i'd ever notice you."
"jay..." you choked out, your hands digging into his shoulders, trying to endure the agonizing perfection of his relentless rhythm.
"i knew exactly what you were doing." he purred, leaning down to drag his teeth over your sensitive pulse point while his lower half brutally worked you open. "i let you sit there and starve on purpose. and look at you now, so fucking desperate you're taking every inch of me on my couch."
he tightened his hand around your throat, not enough to cut off your air, but just enough to force your head back as his thrusts turned fast, brutal, and completely merciless. the sound of your wet center clinging to him mixed with the heavy creak of the couch frame echoed loudly through the dark loft.
"tell me i was worth the wait." he commanded roughly, his dark eyes burning into yours as he pounded into you with relentless force. "tell me how much better this is than your little fantasies."
"it's... fuck, jay, it's so much better." you sobbed, completely unraveled, your hips desperately lifting to meet every devastating strike of his body. "please... don't stop..."
"i'm not stopping until i completely ruin you." he growled against your skin.
he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you up even wider, and drove himself in so hard your vision blurred. the sudden angle sent a blinding spike of pure ecstasy straight to your core. your inner walls squeezed him violently, contracting in am uncontrollable spasm.
jay let out a guttural curse, his jaw clenching as your tightness threatened to snap his restraint. "yeah, just like that. squeeze me, sweetheart. show me how much you needed this."
the words were still vibrating against your skin when your vision completely shattered into white-hot sparks. you let out a broken scream, your fingers clawing violently at his shoulders, tearing at his shirt as the orgasm ripped through you. your inner walls clamped down on his thick length like a vice, pulsing in frantic waves that made him growl out loud, his neck straining as he fought his own release.
but jay didn't let you enjoy the finish. he didn't slow down, and he didn't give you a single second to breathe. instead, he kept driving himself into you, his heavy hips slamming against yours with a brutal force, mercilessly pounding straight into your freshly oversensitive core.
"f-fuck, jay! stop- please. too much!" you sobbed, your head thrashing against the leather cushion as the pleasure turned so sharp it was almost painful. every heavy thrust felt like electricity shooting straight to your brain.
"stop?" he mocked, a cruel laugh escaping his lips. he leaned down, his sweat dripping onto your chest, his dark eyes wide and completely feral in the shadows. "when you spent months begging for this?"
he hit that deep spot again, hard, as you let out a high whine, your thighs shaking so violently they were practically vibrating.
"look at you." he rasped, his voice dripping with absolute satisfaction. "so fucking pathetic. crying and shaking over my cock like it's the only thing keeping you alive. is it, y/n? is this the only thing you've been thinking about while you were serving my band?"
"jay…" you wept, completely stripped of any remaining self-respect, your hands clutching helplessly at his hair. "yes, jay, please..."
"such a dirty little thing." he purred, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, leaving deep marks as he kept up the punishing pace. "you're making a fucking mess of my leather, fuck."
you couldn't even answer him. all you could do was let out useless whimpers as he mercilessly worked you over, his heavy body crushing you into the cushions. the relentless friction of your overstimulated clit against his pelvis was too much. another wave of heat started building immediately, tighter and even more desperate than the first.
"that's it." jay growled, his own breathing turning incredibly shallow, his chest heaving as he felt your inner walls starting to spasm tightly around him again. "come again for me. let me feel how easy you are."
he grabbed your other leg, shoving both of your knees practically to your chest, folding you completely in half as he delivered three final, devastatingly deep thrusts.
your voice broke completely, a shattered sob tearing from your throat as you crashed over the edge for a second time, your core clenching around him in a tight grip. the sheer intensity of your climax finally broke jay's remaining control. he let out a guttural roar, his body locking up as he gave one last, bruising thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you as he flooded you with his hot release.
"fucking hell, y/n…" jay moaned as he finished inside you, completely breathless, locking his dark eyes onto yours with a terrifyingly intimate intensity.
the quiet that followed didn't feel like relief. it dropped over the dark loft like lead, drowning out the electric hum of the amp on the floor.
for a long moment, he didn't pull away. his weight stayed heavy against you, his forehead pressed into the crook of your neck, his chest heaving in ragged pulses that mirrored your own. the arrogant edge in his posture had fractured — just for a fraction of a second — leaving only the harsh heat of his skin and the violent rhythm of his pulse hammering against your jaw.
in the dark, you couldn't tell where the friction ended and the silence began. you lay there trapped beneath him, your heart thrashing against your ribs, desperately searching his face for any slip in his composure, any proof that he had lost himself to you as completely as you had lost yourself to him.
then, slowly, the dark closed back in.
jay lifted his head. the amber streetlamp light filtered through the rain-streaked windowpane, catching the sharp contour of his jaw and the damp fringe of hair clinging to his forehead. the feral hunger that had consumed him vanished as quickly as it had arrived, slipping smoothly back behind that unbothered calm.
he slid his hand slowly up your throat, his thumb dragging across the flushed heat of your cheek with gentle weight. he didn't say a word right away. he just stared down at you, taking in the absolute ruin of your posture, the lingering tremble in your legs, the quiet tears drying on your temples.
he had given you everything you had spent agonizing months starving for. he had pulled you into the dark and undone you piece by piece.
as he finally leaned down, his lips brushed the shell of your ear, his voice dropping into a teasing whisper that made your stomach twist.
"let's see if you can still look away next thursday, sweetheart."
Pairing : puma hybrid ni-ki x human reader
Genre : fantasy AU, hybrids, fluff, soulmate bond, protective ni-ki
Synopsis : Ni-ki and Y/N are living in perfect love in the Y/L/N clan. Their mate ceremony is approaching and the puma hybrid still finds it hard to believe that he will be bound for eternity to the girl he loves and who saved him.
Part 1 / Part 2
AN: Since many of you asked for a part two, your wish has been granted! I wrote this post while listening to the Band version of Enhypen's "One in a Billion," and it perfectly captured the atmosphere I wanted to create between Ni-ki and Y/N. I recommend listening to it while reading this second part :)
Ni-ki was truly living a beautiful life alongside Y/N and was happy to be her companion. Several days had passed since his confrontation with Jaeg-hyun, and he never left the young girl's side, his ears always alert.
He also spent quite a bit of time with the chief's daughters' hybrids, in whom he had found good friends. Jungwon and the others had explained everything there was to know about the clan and the various tasks found there.
Y/N always left him from time to time to do her healing rounds in the clan, and she was always greeted by a clingy cougar as soon as she returned. Ni-ki still didn't know the role he would play in Y/N's and the clan's future, but that wasn't going to last.
One evening, the entire clan gathered in a clearing specially reserved for mating ceremonies. Ni-ki smiled at a little girl who had just handed him a candle, its flame glowing in the darkness. He couldn't see Y/N anywhere, and it worried him.
"What's happening exactly?" he asked.
"It's the ceremony that binds the hybrid to their human," Jake informed him, his golden retriever ears bouncing on his head. "We all go through it when we enter the clan. You and Y/N will have yours very soon."
"What exactly do I have to do?"
"You'll see," Sunghoon smiled, slapping a hand on his shoulder.
Ni-ki turned his gaze toward the crowd forming a circle around the clearing, the candlelight glowing in the night. A circle of torches was created further in the center, with a couple in the middle. The young girl held her companion's hands, the bear hybrid had a smile from ear to ear.
The young man's gaze fell on Y/N, who had just crossed the clearing, entering the circle of torches. Her long white dress flared from her waist to her bare feet, and she wore a tiara made of ivy and oak leaves. Curved lines ran from her hands, up her arms to the base of her neck, traced in golden paint.
The clan began to hum the lyrics of a song Ni-ki didn't yet know. Y/N took the couple's hands and delicately pierced their index fingers, collecting a few drops of blood that beaded into a silver cup already filled with murky water. One by one, the two lovers took a sip of the brew before the healer threw the rest over her shoulder for luck.
"Tae-jo, you will place your bite on Su-min's body, and Su-min will carve her initials into your skin," Y/N spoke. "Thus, you will be bound for eternity, facing life's journeys and the adventures destiny will offer you together."
She handed a thin dagger to Su-min, who took it with a trembling hand. Y/N pressed her hand on the hybrid's shoulder, which began to glow. She removed his pain and healed the wound at the same time Su-min traced her initials into the skin of his hip.
The young girl returned the dagger to her and then relaxed as the healer began to remove her pain, completely erasing the tugging of the bite Tae-jo was marking into the hollow of her wrist.
The scars were freshly healed, clear under the moonlight, witnesses to their bond. "Now, you are bound for eternity before all of us. Witnesses to your love and your strength, we know your bond will last until the end. You may kiss your mate," she smiled, elbowing Tae-jo.
Su-min grabbed the front of her boyfriend's shirt to pull him toward her and crush her mouth against his amid the clan's applause and whistles. A great ceremony then took place to celebrate the union.
Y/N found Ni-ki, who was staring at her with wide eyes, and she gave him a kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Hi."
"Hi… That was… We're going to have to do that too?"
"Yep," she smiled. "Impatient?"
"Terrified."
The young girl chuckled, her fingers scratching behind his cougar ears, which relaxed him. They went to their room, passing by Nabi, who was glaring at them because Jaeg-hyun was still locked in his room.
Ni-ki lay down in the bed, watching Y/N remove her dress to put on one of the hybrid's large t-shirts, her vine-like lines running up her arms still present. "Why did I never notice your tattoos before?"
She looked down at the marks and smiled, joining him on the mattress. "They're proof that I'm a healer. They appear when we receive our gift. The more I use my powers, the darker they become on my skin. A marking ceremony between two lovers is the most important event a healer can celebrate."
Y/N pulled the duvet over them and rested her head on his chest, tracing small circles on his skin. "We'll also have our ceremony, and once it's done, I'll take over leadership of the clan with you as chief. Night, night, baby."
She said it with such detachment that Ni-ki might have missed it, but his words quickly reached his brain, and he sat up with a start. "What did you say?"
"Night, night, baby?"
"No, before that! I'm going to become chief?!"
"Well, yeah. Healers always take command of the clan, and their companions become chief as a result. I thought my father told you about it when you talked."
"No! He didn't tell me anything at all!" he panicked. Ni-ki got out of bed and began pacing around the room, the young girl sat up on her elbows with a smile.
"Ki', it's alright."
"Of course it's not! I can't become chief! I'm a hybrid!"
"And? Hybrids before you have been chiefs of our clan and did well."
"But I'm not cut out to be chief! I wouldn't know how to lead these people. I'm just a stray hybrid, people don't usually trust me, they fear me."
Y/N sighed and pushed aside the blanket to stand up, coming to meet him. She embraced him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her head against his heart. Ni-ki's muscles relaxed as he buried his nose in her hair, closing his eyes.
"I never want to hear that come out of your mouth again, do you hear me? You're not a stray hybrid, and you're certainly not feared here. You're my hybrid, my companion, the one I chose to spend my life with. And my father will help you from the beginning, he won't leave his position as chief right away. When you're ready, he'll retire, and we'll be chiefs. I'll be with you for eternity, you'll never be alone again, Ki'."
Ni-ki tightened his embrace around her, nestling his face in the crook of her neck as his tail wrapped around her waist. "I love you," he murmured.
"I love you too," she smiled, pulling back to lead him toward the bed. They tumbled onto the mattress, chuckling, and the hybrid braced himself on his hands so as not to crush her.
Y/N slid her fingers through his hair, pressing her hands on his cheeks to come and kiss him. The young man returned her kiss, a tear beading at the corner of his eye.
Their ceremony was scheduled for the next full moon. Since Y/N had told him he would become chief, Ni-ki followed Seo-jun everywhere like a little puppy to learn the role of a chief, and it amused the entire clan, though they were touched that the hybrid wanted to become the best chief possible.
Night had fallen, and the entire clan was gathered in the clearing for Ni-ki and Y/N's ceremony. The young man stood in the center of the circle of torches, eagerly awaiting his betrothed. He was only wearing white trousers that hung low on his hips, the same lines traced on his bare chest with white paint.
Y/N arrived accompanied by her father, approaching Ni-ki with a smile, the young man was sure all the hybrids could hear how fast his heart was beating. He gently took the young girl's hands in his, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of her hands.
Seo-jun would preside over the ceremony and thus pass the title of chief to Ni-ki. He presented them with the cup where their blood had been mixed, and Y/N took a sip before passing the glass to Ni-ki. He swallowed a gulp before tossing the rest of the contents over his shoulder, as Y/N had done during the previous ceremony.
Seo-jun stifled a laugh behind a cough, as he was supposed to do that, but let his son-in-law do it because Y/N was biting her lip to keep from smiling.
"We are gathered tonight to unite my daughter Y/N to Ni-ki," Seo-jun declared in his strong, clear voice. "Ni-ki, you will place your bite on Y/N's body, and Y/N will carve her initials into your skin. Thus, you will be bound for eternity, facing life's journeys and the adventures destiny will offer you together."
The man repeated the same ceremony speech as his daughter's, then presented her with the dagger. Y/N pressed her hand on the young man's arm, ready to remove his pain. "Where do you want it?" she murmured.
"On my heart. So you'll always be with me."
She smiled at him, her eyes glistening with tears, then pointed the knife toward his chest. Her hand began to glow as soon as the blade touched his skin, tracing her initials on his chest without Ni-ki feeling any pain. He didn't take his eyes off her, his hands dangerously brushing her hips to keep her close.
Y/N stepped back to admire her work, the scars of her initials were clearly engraved on Ni-ki's chest, which he would proudly display. She returned the dagger to her father, who nodded to the hybrid.
"Ni-ki, place your bite on Y/N to complete the bond."
"How do you want me to do it?" he asked her.
"Just bite me wherever you want, Ki'."
He nodded, swallowing his saliva with difficulty. He looked at her for a moment before gently brushing her hair aside on one of her shoulders, sliding a hand onto her cheek. Y/N encouraged him with her eyes, and Ni-ki took a breath to gather his courage, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
He bit the junction between her neck and shoulder, sinking his fangs into her skin deeply enough to leave his mark. Y/N dug her nails into his biceps, unable to remove the pain herself but only to lessen it.
Ni-ki pulled back, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth to wipe the drop of blood from the corner of his lips, his pupils dilated. His companion reassured him with a smile because he had felt her tense during his bite.
"Now, you are bound for eternity before all of us. Witnesses to your love and your strength, we know your bond will last until the end. Kiss her, you idiot," Seo-jun chuckled, elbowing the hybrid.
Ni-ki didn't need to be told twice and pulled Y/N toward him, taking possession of her lips. The healer wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his, her fingers sliding into the hair at the base of his neck.
The clan exploded in applause, the boys whistled while Sienna wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. The ceremony continued late into the night, but Ni-ki and Y/N quickly disappeared into their room.
The door slammed behind them as they entered the room, the lovers kissed passionately. Ni-ki lifted Y/N in his arms, walking blindly to the bed, where he laid them down. The young man broke the kiss to look at her, his eyes following her bite in the hollow of her neck. He lowered his head, letting his tongue trace the bite, drawing a moan from Y/N.
requested by @jalicecookie - Hiiii :) how about a few oneshot with band member of your choice with their little one misunderstanding the phrase - people going to eat this up - while planning a post and the kid thinks mama or dadda need food?
Jake had made one very simple mistake.
He'd spoken out loud.
"I think people are going to eat this up."
His seventeen-month-old son froze.
Absolutely froze.
Tiny hands still wrapped around his snack cup. Dark brown eyes wide enough to rival saucers. His little mouth formed the world's tiniest, most horrified "O."
"...Dada?"
Jake, blissfully unaware of the tiny existential crisis currently unfolding beside him, kept staring at his phone.
"Hm?"
His wife was pouring coffee into travel mugs in the kitchen while Jake scrolled through the dozen brunch photos they'd just taken.
One was adorable.
The three of them were sitting outside at a little café.
Mama is laughing at something off-camera.
Jake reaches over the stroller to boop their son's nose.
Baby looking triumphantly sticky after stealing half of Jake's pancakes.
Perfect.
Jake grinned.
"Oh, this one's cute."
His wife peeked over.
"Oh! Use that one."
"I think so too."
Jake opened Instagram.
"People are going to eat this up."
Silence.
Very suspicious silence.
"Dada..."
Jake looked down.
His son was staring at him with an expression usually reserved for discovering vacuum cleaners.
"What, buddy?"
The toddler blinked rapidly.
"Dada..."
His tiny eyebrows scrunched.
"...eat?"
Jake smiled.
"No, sweetie."
He absentmindedly kissed the top of his son's head before typing out the caption.
Sunday brunch with my favourite people ❤️
Behind him—
Tiny gears turned.
People.
Eat.
Dada said...
People...
Eat...
This.
The baby looked at the phone.
Then at Dada.
Then toward the kitchen.
Then back at Dada.
His face became deeply determined.
"Dada, wait."
Jake looked up.
"What?"
The toddler slid dramatically off the couch.
Plop.
Tiny sock feet hit the floor.
Then—
He toddled away with the determination of a knight marching into battle.
Jake chuckled.
"Where's he going?"
"No clue," his wife answered.
About thirty seconds later—
Tiny footsteps.
Shuffle shuffle shuffle.
Their son returned...
Carrying a banana.
A whole banana.
Held with both hands as he'd just harvested it himself.
"Dada."
Jake blinked.
"...Is that for me?"
Tiny nod.
"EAT."
Jake laughed.
"Oh, buddy, thank you!"
The toddler shoved the banana into Jake's chest.
"Yum."
Jake looked at his wife.
She shrugged.
"I have no idea."
Jake accepted the banana.
"Thanks, little man."
Crisis averted.
Or so Jake thought.
Five minutes later—
"Dada."
Jake looked up again.
Now the toddler had returned...
With crackers.
Several crackers.
Not in the box.
Just...
Loose.
Clutched dramatically against his shirt.
One immediately fell.
Then another.
He ignored both casualties.
"Dada."
He shoved the remaining crackers toward Jake.
"Yum."
Jake burst out laughing.
"Oh! More food?"
Tiny, frantic nodding.
"Yum!"
His wife started giggling.
"I think he thinks you're hungry."
Jake accepted one cracker.
"Thank you."
The toddler visibly relaxed.
For approximately twelve seconds.
Then Jake looked back at his phone.
"I wonder if I should crop—"
"DADA!"
Jake jumped.
His son looked scandalized.
Phone down.
Food first.
Obviously.
He pushed another cracker directly toward Jake's mouth.
"Yum."
Jake obediently took a bite.
"There."
Tiny sigh.
Much better.
His wife was openly laughing now.
"I don't know what's happening, but don't stop."
Neither of them noticed the toddler quietly wandering off again.
Bad move.
Because this time...
He came back carrying...
An apple.
One almost bigger than his own head.
"DADA."
Thunk.
Apple landed in Jake's lap.
Jake stared.
"...Buddy."
Tiny finger pointed accusingly.
"Eat."
"I physically cannot eat all of this."
More pointing.
"EAT."
His wife had tears in her eyes.
"I can't breathe."
Jake finally looked suspicious.
"Why are you trying so hard to feed me?"
The toddler looked at him like he'd asked why the sky existed.
"Peepull eat."
"...Yes?"
"Dada."
"...Yes?"
"Peepull eat Dada."
Jake blinked.
His wife stopped laughing.
For exactly one second.
Then realization hit.
She doubled over.
"Oh my gosh."
Jake looked between them.
"What?"
She could barely talk.
"What... did... you... say... earlier?"
Jake frowned.
"I said this picture is cute."
"No..."
"I like the caption."
"No..."
Then—
It hit him.
Jake slowly lowered his phone.
"I said..."
He looked at his son.
"...People are going to eat this up."
Tiny nod.
Exactly.
Finally.
Dada understood.
The toddler climbed onto the couch as quickly as his little legs allowed.
He cupped Jake's cheeks with both tiny hands.
"Dada no."
Jake nearly melted.
"What?"
"No eat."
His tiny voice became dramatically whispery.
"Hide."
Jake had to bite his lip.
"Oh..."
The baby genuinely believed strangers were coming...
To eat his father.
His wife collapsed against the kitchen counter, laughing so hard she had to grab the counter for support.
Jake scooped their son into his lap.
"Oh, sweetie."
The toddler wrapped both arms around Jake's neck immediately.
Maximum protection mode.
"No peepull."
Jake kissed his hair.
"They're not actually going to eat Dada."
Tiny skeptical stare.
Jake nodded.
"I promise."
The toddler wasn't convinced.
He looked toward the front door.
Then the windows.
Then back at Jake.
"Dada hide."
His wife wiped tears from her face.
"I think he has a plan."
Apparently, he did.
Because he climbed off Jake again.
Grabbed the living room blanket.
Dragged it across the floor with incredible effort.
Then threw it—
Well.
Attempted to throw it.
Mostly dropped it—
Over Jake's legs.
"There."
Jake smiled.
"I'm hidden?"
Tiny nod.
"Safe."
His wife completely lost it again.
"Oh my goodness."
The toddler wasn't done.
He disappeared once more.
Jake sighed dramatically.
"Should we stop him?"
"No."
"I kind of want to see where this goes."
Another minute passed.
Tiny footsteps returned.
This time...
He had his stuffed dinosaur.
His bunny.
A toy truck.
One sock.
A spoon.
And somehow...
The TV remote.
He carefully piled everything onto Jake's lap.
"Dada."
Jake looked at the mountain of treasures.
"...Yes?"
"Hide."
Jake nodded solemnly.
"I see."
The toddler added one final item.
His favourite blanket.
Perfect.
Now Dada was completely disguised.
No one could identify him underneath...
A bunny.
One sock.
A truck.
And emotional support dinosaur.
His wife took approximately fifty photos.
Jake whispered,
"I've become furniture."
She laughed.
"I've never loved him more."
The toddler finally climbed into Jake's lap again.
Satisfied.
He leaned against Jake's chest.
"Phew."
Jake smiled.
"So I'm safe now?"
Tiny nod.
"No yum-yum."
"No one's eating me."
"No."
Jake kissed his forehead.
"They never were."
The toddler considered that.
"...Pwomiss?"
"Promise."
He seemed to think very hard.
Then looked at the phone.
"... mean."
Jake laughed softly.
"The phone wasn't being mean."
"It says eat."
"No."
Jake gently held up the picture.
"See?"
The toddler looked suspiciously at the smiling photo.
Mama.
Dada.
Baby.
Stroller.
Pancakes.
Nothing dangerous.
Jake explained as simply as he could.
"When people say they'll 'eat something up,' they mean they'll really like it."
The toddler blinked.
"...?"
"Like."
"No chew Dada?"
Jake laughed.
"No chewing, Dada."
"No bite?"
"No biting."
"No porky?"
"No forky."
"No cash-up?"
Jake looked at his wife.
"Apparently, I'm served with condiments."
She grinned.
"Good to know."
The toddler slowly relaxed.
"...Okie."
Then his little stomach growled.
Loudly.
Jake looked down.
"Oh."
Tiny sheepish smile.
"...I eat?"
His wife snorted.
"So after all that..."
"...He's hungry."
Jake laughed.
"I think so."
Within minutes, they were sitting around the kitchen island.
Tiny grilled cheese squares.
Blueberries.
Yogurt.
Banana slices.
The toddler happily stuffed food into his own mouth now that the immediate threat of Daddy Consumption had passed.
Every few bites...
He'd look up.
"Dada?"
Jake smiled.
"I'm still here."
Tiny grin.
"No yum."
"Nope."
Five minutes later—
"Dada?"
"Yeah?"
He held up a blueberry.
"Dada bite?"
Jake leaned forward dramatically.
Nom.
The toddler giggled so hard he nearly fell to the side.
Again.
"Dada."
Another blueberry.
Another bite.
Soon it became a game.
Blueberry.
Giggle.
Cheese cube.
Giggle.
Tiny cracker.
Giggle.
His wife watched the two of them with the softest smile.
"You know..."
Jake looked over.
"Hm?"
"I don't think anyone is ever going to love you more than that little boy."
Jake looked down.
His son was leaning against him now, cheeks full of grilled cheese, one tiny hand absentmindedly resting on Jake's arm as if making certain he hadn't disappeared.
Jake's heart squeezed.
"I think you're right."
The toddler looked up.
"Dada?"
"Yeah?"
"Wuv you."
Jake completely froze.
Those words were still new.
Still slightly wobbly.
Still missing a few sounds.
But unmistakable.
Jake's eyes immediately softened.
"Oh, buddy."
He kissed the top of his head.
"I love you too."
The toddler now smiled with complete confidence.
No monsters.
No scary people.
No mysterious internet strangers waiting with forks.
Just Mama.
Just Dada.
Just brunch photos.
And one very important lesson.
Sometimes grown-ups said incredibly weird things.
So someone had to make sure Dada remembered to eat.
𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 . . ❛ keeping your arrangement with your brother’s best friend under wraps seems easy, but the lines soon blur between your online anonymous confidante and the boy you've always had a soft spot for ❜
↪synopsis: you develop a crush on jay the moment your eyes land on him and you immediately decide this is a problem because he's too pretty. unfortunately, chaewon tells you that he has been in a long-term relationship for years. which means your crush is doomed before it even starts. still, having a tiny harmless crush on someone unavailable has never killed anybody...right? are you doomed? yes, no, maybe?
↪ pairing: park jongseong x fem!reader | ↪ genre: university au, strangers to friends to lovers, slowburn, slight angst | ↪ type: SMAU | ↪ status: ongoing | ↪warning: slow-burn, jay is quiet and reserved, a bit of toxic friendship dynamic.
⊱ ۫ ׅ white trash!han solo x gn!reader — HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAPA HARRISON <3 had to come out of retirement to post something for his birthday yaaa. han of course. i miss my dirty pervy man and i know he misses me too. no smut in this one #sorry. tip jar. m.list
you move about the kitchenette in you and han's shared trailer, the smell of chocolate catching the breeze drifting in through the window. neither of you really celebrate the other's birthday. it's just a thing that happens, a day that goes by. but this year, you've wanted to do something special for him.
he's always at work, always working hard. definitely not flirting with the woman whose car he's been working on for far too long. why not show him how much you appreciate him?
you hear him before you see him — the sound of his truck pulling up, gravel crunching beneath the tires. then, heavy boots making their way up the path and into your home.
"hey, sweetheart. baking somethin'?"
han comes up to you from behind, hands finding your hips, pulling you back against him in the cramped space between the stove and the fridge. you give an affirmative hmm in response to his question, focused on stirring the frosting in the bowl in front of you. "yeah. making you a cake."
he grins, leaning down and pressing a sloppy, enthusiastic kiss to your cheek. "yeah? gonna make it all pretty for me? frosting and sprinkles?" he asks, making you giggle. "i mean, i'll try to make it pretty." you begin to stuff the frosting into a ziploc bag. "you're... how old? thirty-something?"
he scoffs. "thirty-something. i'm thirty-six, sweetheart. figured you would keep up by now." he watches curiously as you set the cooled cake in front of you and begin to pipe the frosting onto it. "go 'way. lemme finish this. thought you'd be home late." you murmur, hunched over the stove.
"alright, alright. i'll leave you alone." he chuckles, grabbing himself a beer. by the time he's settled in, lounging on the couch, remote in hand as he flips through some infomercials, you're coming over to him, singing a very off-key version of the happy birthday song. a big, stupid grin plasters itself onto his handsome face. "for me?" he asks with playful disbelief. you nod eagerly, taking a seat on his thighs, presenting the messily frosted cake to him.
han wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. "happy birthday to me, yeah? 've got the sweetest thing on my lap, and a sweet cake too. i'm the luckiest man in the town, mm?"
♱ @addictedtohobi ⋆ @grymghoul ⋆ @brooklynb8by ⋆ @ashley-slashley ⋆ @darthrenswiftie ⋆ @judasprieist ⋆ @schizo-toddhoward ♱ @enchant5d ⋆ @piastricentric ⋆ @ilovekmchenzie ⋆ @offthethirlwall ⋆ @soleil825 ⋆ @loliskywalker ⋆ @skywalkoverme ⋆ @itsrazzledazzletime34 ♱ @starlmbed ⋆ @theladykassia ⋆ @cocobear18 ⋆ @anisangeldust ⋆ @literally-izzyy ⋆ @hellokittyyloverrrr ⋆ @anon-188 ⋆ @hearts4sammonroe ⋆ @madsluvsdilfs ⋆ @lxstv4mpiree ⋆ @helpmeobi ♱ @cherriies-snake ⋆ @espinathena-17 ⋆ @fallout-girl219 ⋆ @urmomsgirlfriend1 ⋆ @hayden-christensen-verse ⋆ @dreamygirli3 ⋆ @awhhayden — let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist for han solo!
Pairing : puma hybrid ni-ki x human reader
Genre : fantasy AU, hybrids, fluff, soulmate bond?, protective ni-ki
Synopsis : In the Y/L/N clan, coming of age is celebrated by choosing a hybrid as a mate. Y/N, the clan leader's daughter, chose Ni-ki as her companion. While the puma hybrid was initially wary, the protective and attractive feelings he developed towards her made everything more difficult.
In the Y/L/N clan, coming of age was celebrated by obtaining a hybrid companion. Their leader, Seo-jun, had eight beautiful daughters. Six from his first union and two from his second. The six eldest already had their hybrids, having reached adulthood a few years ago. Only the two youngest remained, the false twins.
Y/N and Nabi were as different as day and night, as sun and moon. Their mother had died at their birth, and they had lived since childhood with their father, their stepmother, and their half-sisters. Y/N considered them her mother and sisters, making no distinction, unlike Nabi, who played the saint in their father's presence but was detestable in his absence.
Their coming of age was approaching, and thus the decision of their companion as well. Nabi, for some obscure reason, had always been jealous of Y/N and didn't let a single day go by without trying to make her life a living hell.
That's why Y/N knew her sister was up to something when she and her father went to the hybrid breeding grounds, which were sometimes not entirely legal. It wasn't forbidden for young girls to come in advance to see which hybrids to choose, and she suspected Nabi had already set foot there.
"Choose well, my daughters," their father declared. "The hybrid will be your companion for life, and going back will be impossible."
"I'll choose a good hybrid, Father!" Nabi smiled. She linked her arm with Y/N's like a good sister and pulled her along, away from their father.
Y/N let her gaze slide over the various cages where hybrids of all kinds were locked up. Felines, feathered, or scaled animals. The clan allowed women to bond with hybrids to give them a better life. They had been great advocates for the hybrid cause for generations.
"So, who are you going to choose, Y/N-nie?" Nabi purred. "A wolf or a bear? Something powerful, right? We must give a good image of the clan."
Her sister didn't answer, letting Nabi drag her to a cage large enough to hold two humans. A snake man stood inside, the lower part of his body completely made of dark green scales. His eyes lit up when he saw the two young girls, thinking he had a chance to be chosen.
"What about that one, sister? A python is a good choice, isn't it?"
"Choose me, mistress! I would be a good companion for you!" He grabbed her hand through the bars to place a kiss on it. Y/N simply stared at him without a word, turning her head toward her sister as she spoke.
"He's very handsome, and he seems strong and powerful. He'll make a good companion, and your children will be cute, I'm sure!" Nabi exclaimed. "Choose him, Y/N-nie!"
But Y/N wasn't fooled, she could see perfectly how the hybrid was looking at her sister. Perhaps their plan was for her to choose him, and then he would betray her for Nabi. Her twin should have planned better if she wanted to once again make her life a living hell.
She freed herself from her grip, giving them both a cold look. "If you like him so much, you can choose him, Nabi. I won't take a reptile as a companion."
Her sister blushed with fury as she turned away, approaching a cage whose hybrid had caught her interest. The young man was sitting against the bars at the back of the cage, perfectly human. He must have had excellent self-control over his transformation to remain human despite his injuries.
"I'll take this one."
Nabi burst out laughing, doubled over, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "Him? That poor hybrid? He looks like a duck! Sister, I didn't think you had a thing for webbed feet! You're going to shame the clan with a hybrid like that!"
"Nabi!" The young girl jumped and turned to find their father with guards right behind her. She put on an embarrassed pout, as if playing the victim.
"Father! I was just saying…"
"You've said enough! You don't have to insult your sister over her choice of hybrid. Just choose your own companion." She blushed with shame, throwing a dark look at her sister before choosing the python, who was probably part of her plan.
Y/N opened the cage door with the key she had been given and stepped inside. The young man looked up at her, partially hidden by his ash-brown hair. "I choose you. Come with me."
She reached out her hand toward him, and he watched her for a moment before raising his arm, sliding his hand into hers. His rough palm contrasted with her soft skin, and Y/N pulled him to his feet, putting an arm around his shoulders to help him walk.
Their father smiled, proud of his daughters, then paid the necessary sum for the hybrids before they headed toward the clan's estate. To accommodate all their hybrids, Chief Seo-jun had settled their clan on a large estate containing a forest, meadows, and a vast lake nestled in the heart of the woods.
The rest of the clan eagerly awaited their return, coming to meet them when they arrived, hoping to catch a glimpse of their new members. With the humans plus the hybrids, they were about a hundred.
"There you are!" smiled the chief's eldest daughter. "Girls, you've finally chosen your companions!"
Y/N smiled at her half-sister and deposited her hybrid on the porch steps of the large house reserved for the family. Under the sun's rays, she could finally see him better. He towered over her by at least two heads and had a slender body shaped by the trials he had endured. His tongue passed over his full lips, where an open cut remained, and his ashy strands fell over his dark eyes.
She crouched before him and inspected the various wounds he bore, especially on his torso and arms. The young girl pressed a hand over his heart, the hybrid stiffened under her touch. "Easy, I'm just going to heal you."
Her hand glowed with a soft golden light as the pain gradually disappeared from his entire body. Y/N healed every one of his wounds, old and new, the cuts vanishing and the scars becoming fine traces on his skin. The young man sighed, finally freed from the pain he had endured for so long.
"Thank you," he murmured in a hoarse voice. Their eyes met, and Y/N's cheeks warmed gently as she smiled at him.
"Hey! Come heal my hybrid too!" Nabi ordered, snapping her fingers to call her twin. "He needs healing, and now!"
Y/N stood up but immediately brought a hand to her head, seized by dizziness, and swayed back toward her hybrid. The young man was on his feet in no time, no longer feeling any pain or soreness in his body, and caught her in his arms before she collapsed.
"Are you okay?" he asked in her ear. She nodded weakly, holding onto his torn shirt.
"Can't you see she's already used a lot of energy to heal her companion?" their stepmother said beside their father. "Take your hybrid to see the regular nurses, and he'll heal just as well."
"It's not the same! He won't be healed instantly!" The woman ignored her and approached her stepdaughter. The hybrid recoiled slightly at her approach, and the woman smiled, seeing him already so protective of Y/N.
"Hi, sweetie, I'm Sienna, Seo-jun's wife. Can you take Y/N to her room? She's just exhausted after using her powers. You can go up to the second floor, her room is the third door on the right."
The young man nodded and bent down slightly to lift Y/N in his arms, cradling her against his chest. He glanced at Nabi, who was fuming with her reptile hybrid on her arm, then turned on his heel.
He followed Sienna's directions to reach Y/N's room. The space was spacious, much larger than any cage he could imagine. He crossed the room, trying not to dirty the floor with his boots, and laid the young girl on the wide bed.
As soon as she was lying on the mattress, Y/N sat up with a start, making him jump. "Thank you for carrying me up here," she smiled, rolling onto her side.
"I thought you were exhausted?"
"Nah, I just didn't want to use my powers to heal my sister's hybrid," she said with a wave of her hand. "Nabi is… detestable." He had indeed noticed. "You can come lie down, you know?" The hybrid looked down at his clothes, and Y/N followed his gaze before snapping her fingers. "You need a good shower, come on!"
Y/N got off her bed and grabbed his hand in hers to lead him to the bathroom adjoining her room. She took out a clean towel from a cupboard and placed it on the sink. "You can take a shower, I'll go get you some new clothes while you're at it."
"What do I do with my old things?"
"I'll burn them."
He gave a slight smirk before undressing, Y/N turning her back out of respect. Once she heard the water running in the shower, she picked up the clothes on the floor and left the bathroom. She happily threw those things away to go get new ones.
In the shower, Ni-ki stared at the marbled tiles, letting the hot water run over his body. It had been so long since he was in that cage that he had forgotten the taste of freedom. He never would have thought anyone would want him as their companion.
No matter his condition, he had never revealed his hybrid type. He rarely transformed so as not to reveal his nature. So that a chief's daughter would want him? It seemed unreal to him. But as soon as Y/N had taken his hand in hers, he knew he would do anything for her, that he could give his life for her. She had saved him from that hell, and he would spend his life thanking her.
When he came out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, another man's scent was in the room. He saw Y/N talking with a young man with cat-tiger ears, his tail waving softly behind him. The sound of his footsteps drew their attention, and Y/N let her eyes slide over his body, still glistening with a few drops of water. The hybrid beside her cleared his throat, snapping her out of her contemplation.
"Do I need to leave?" he teased.
"No. Yes. Shut up," she retorted. He held back a laugh, raising his hands. "This is Jungwon, he's the companion of one of my sisters. He's also the one who makes sure new hybrids acclimatize well, so you'll see him often. Thanks for the clothes, you can go," Y/N insisted, pushing him toward the door.
"You're sure? But we were having so much fun," he smiled, grabbing the door frame to annoy her.
"I'm sure! Get out! Unnie, your stray cat won't leave my room!" she shouted.
"Jungwon, come here right now!" his girlfriend called.
"Yes, ma'am!" He disappeared at lightning speed, and Y/N was finally able to close her door with a sigh.
She turned to her hybrid, who had followed the scene with amusement, his arms crossed over his chest. Y/N pointed to the clothes on the bed, then turned away while he changed. The view of her rug became quite interesting until she felt a warm breath on her neck.
The young girl slowly turned around, looking up to find the hybrid standing before her. "You haven't told me your name…"
"Ni-ki."
"I'm Y/N."
"I know, mistress."
"Don't call me that," she said, walking around him. "I'm not your mistress, I'm your companion." She sat on her bed, smoothing the panels of her dress. "You're not a slave, you're a member of the Y/L/N clan now. You're free."
He approached her, watching her in silence before falling to his knees at her feet, his forehead pressed against her thighs. Y/N blushed, sliding a hesitant hand through his still-damp hair. "Take your time revealing what you are to me, I can wait." Ni-ki looked up at her, a purr barely passing his lips.
That evening, they dined in her room to get to know each other a little better, and then exhaustion overtook them. Y/N had insisted he could sleep with her in her bed, but he didn't want to disturb her and took the sofa.
The room was plunged into darkness except for the sun rays filtering through the windows. Ni-ki wasn't sleeping, one arm crossed under his neck as he stared into the darkness. He still couldn't believe that this would now be his life and that the hell was over.
He turned his head when he heard movement from the bed. Y/N was tossing and turning in the sheets, her sleep restless. Ni-ki pushed aside his blanket, stood up, and walked toward the bed. A thin layer of sweat covered the young girl's forehead, which he wiped away with his hand.
He lifted the sheet to lie down beside her, hesitating for a moment before pulling her toward him. Her body fit perfectly against his, as if they were made to be together. Ni-ki put an arm around her waist and nestled his face in the crook of her neck, taking a deep breath.
Y/N's heartbeat slowed, and she relaxed in his arms. Ni-ki soon fell asleep, lulled by his companion's peaceful breathing.
The next morning, Y/N was woken by a warm weight pressed against her back. She let her eyes adjust to the light before looking over her shoulder to see Ni-ki, his cheek pressed against the pillow, his face relaxed in sleep.
A smile stretched her lips, and she placed a kiss on his cheek before silently getting out of bed to go to the bathroom. Ni-ki rolled onto the mattress, burying his nose in Y/N's pillow, breathing in her sweet scent. He reached out, hoping to pull Y/N back toward him, but only found her empty spot.
His eyes suddenly opened, and he sat up, looking for the young girl. He kicked the sheets aside and jumped out of bed, searching the room before heading to the bathroom. The door opened in front of him, and Y/N bumped into Ni-ki's chest.
"Ni-ki? Are you okay?" she asked, stepping back.
"Yeah," he sighed, relieved to see her in front of him. "You weren't in bed when I woke up."
Y/N smiled. "Were you worried about me?" The hybrid's cheeks flushed slightly, and he turned away, mumbling. They dressed before going down to the dining room, where her family was having breakfast.
"Good morning, my darlings!" Sienna smiled. "How was your first night?"
"Excellent, Ni-ki was afraid I'd disappear this morning," Y/N joked, sitting in an empty chair. Her companion gave her a side-eye, which made her smile.
"Well, we also slept very well!" Nabi exclaimed, taking her hybrid's hand. "Jaeg-hyun is adorable, isn't he, my love?"
"Yes, mistress!" Nabi smiled, proud and haughty, then glanced at her twin, who was encouraging Ni-ki to eat so he could regain his strength.
"So, Y/N, are you happy with your little duck hybrid?"
Ni-ki stiffened beside her, and Y/N gave her sister a cold look. "No matter what hybrid Ni-ki is, I'll be fulfilled having him by my side. His nature isn't something that concerns me, unlike others."
"Are you implying that I chose Jaeg-hyun just because he's a powerful hybrid?" Nabi feigned offense. "Father, Y/N is insulting me!"
The man didn't look up from his newspaper as he replied. "Nabi, don't bother your sister and her companion. Ni-ki isn't obligated to reveal his hybrid form to us. And I'll have you know that Jaeg-hyun hasn't yet proven himself powerful. You know perfectly well he would need to prove himself for that."
Y/N shot a victorious look at her sister, who fumed on the spot, squeezing Jaeg-hyun's hand. One of the clan members stood behind Y/N, whispering something in her ear, and she thanked him before leaning toward Ni-ki.
"I need to go heal a sick rabbit, you can stay with Jungwon. He'll give you a tour."
"Can't I come with you?"
"You'll be bored, but I promise I won't be long." She stood up and placed a kiss on the top of his head before following the man outside.
Ni-ki pouted but finished his breakfast and followed Jungwon through the estate. The hybrid was shocked to see that it was a real village, with family houses and even small shops. He didn't know how other clans were, but Seo-jun treated his clan like family.
"How long have you been here?" Ni-ki asked.
"A little over six years. The other companions of Seo-jun's daughters and I arrived around the same time. I'll introduce you!" Jungwon cut the tour short to take him to a picnic table set up near the lake, where a group of boys was laughing. They were all hybrids and didn't hide their ears or tails. "Hyungs! I'd like you to meet Ni-ki, Y/N's companion! He just arrived, so no funny business." He gave a knowing look to Jake and Jay, who whistled innocently.
"Are you acclimating to your new life?" Sunghoon asked.
"I think so. It's still new, I suppose."
"You'll get used to it quickly," Sunoo assured with a smile. "Especially once your bond is complete, you'll be one."
Ni-ki nodded as they all turned their heads toward an owl hybrid girl running toward them, out of breath. "Ni-ki! Lord!"
"Uh, yes?"
"It's Y/N! She's in danger!" The hybrid was on his feet in no time and ran in the direction the girl had come from. He could hear shouting in the distance, and he redoubled his efforts to come to Y/N's aid.
Rage overwhelmed him when he saw Jaeg-hyun leaning over Y/N, gripping her wrists firmly enough to immobilize her. His instinct took over everything else, and soon he went from two legs to four, the feline cutting through the air to pounce on the reptile.
The hybrid was pinned to the ground by the puma, who roared in his face. Jaeg-hyun took his python form and tried to wrap himself around his body, but Ni-ki leaped backward to avoid him. Y/N, who had regained her senses after Jaeg-hyun's assault, stared at Ni-ki with wide eyes.
The large puma stood a few meters away, protecting her with his entire stature. Seeing Ni-ki baring his fangs in an attack stance, she snapped out of her stupor and rushed toward her companion.
"Ni-ki!" She wrapped her arms around his thick neck, pulling him toward her to turn him away from the python. "Stop! You can't kill him!"
He growled but couldn't struggle without hurting Y/N, so he calmed down in her arms. The shouts and fighting had drawn Seo-jun and Sienna out of the house. "What's going on?" His gaze fell on Ni-ki, then on Jaeg-hyun, and on the marks on his daughter's wrists.
"Father! It was Ni-ki who attacked Jaeg-hyun first!" Nabi shouted, appearing out of nowhere.
"But he must have had a reason, right?" Sienna retorted.
"You, shut up! This is a family matter!"
"Nabi, that's enough!" their father asserted. "I want explanations! We don't fight in the clan! That's the main rule!"
Ni-ki's ears flattened against his head, thinking he had broken one of the most important rules and might be banished, sent back to the hell he had been pulled from. But Y/N buried her face in his thick fur, and his body relaxed, knowing she was on his side.
A woman stepped forward, the one whose rabbit hybrid daughter was injured and whom Y/N had healed. She inclined her head toward the chief. "Sir, it was Jaeg-hyun who attacked Y/N."
"Liar!" Nabi screamed.
"Silence! Continue."
"Lady Y/N came to heal my daughter a little earlier, she was about to leave when Jaeg-hyun arrived and started asking her over and over why she hadn't chosen him as her companion. He grabbed her arms and tried to drag her away with him, but luckily, Lord Ni-ki arrived and freed her from his grip. Lady Y/N stopped the fight before anyone got hurt."
"Is this true?"
"No, she's lying!" Nabi insisted. "Y/N planned all of this, she wants to trap me, as usual! Jaeg-hyun wouldn't hurt anyone! It's that wild beast that's a monster!" She pointed at Ni-ki, and Y/N pulled away from her companion to approach her sister. Nabi let out a cry as she collapsed to the ground when Y/N slapped her.
"You can insult me all you want, but never insult my companion. Is that clear? I know you wanted me to choose Jaeg-hyun so you could take him back later and leave me alone, you've always wanted to make me pay for whatever you were jealous of. But you will never touch Ni-ki! You're lucky I don't kill you both!"
Nabi got up and ran to kneel at their father's feet. "Father! You see! Y/N wants to hurt me! Jaeg-hyun had nothing to do with it!"
"Nabi… You disappoint me. You are my daughter, you are supposed to honor our clan." Raising his hands, he asked, "Who saw Jaeg-hyun lay a hand on Y/N?"
Slowly, hands went up as Nabi screamed it was a setup and that Jaeg-hyun was innocent. Seo-jun ordered a week of confinement for the reptile as punishment.
Y/N returned to Ni-ki, who kept his head down, not wanting to meet her gaze. She took his head in her hands, running her fingers through his fur. "Ni-ki, look at me. Ki'."
He purred and looked up at her. "You broke no rules, you protected me." She pressed her forehead against his. "You are my companion, my hybrid, and I won't let anyone hurt you."
Ni-ki whined and snuggled into her arms, purring, his paws on her thighs. "Ni-ki, boy," Seo-jun called him. "Come with me."
The hybrid shot a worried look at Y/N, who placed a kiss on the top of his head. He pulled away from her and trotted over to the chief, taking human form before him. His puma ears were perked on his head, and his tail wagged anxiously.
Seo-jun placed a hand on his shoulder and led him away, his daughters' hybrids following close behind. Y/N sighed, hoping her father wouldn't be too harsh, and returned to finish her tasks.
The clan chief led Ni-ki into his office, inviting him to sit on one of the sofas as the boys dispersed around the room. "Am I going to be in trouble?" the young man asked, anxious.
"Should you be?"
"I just wanted to protect Y/N…"
"Then, no, you did what was right." Ni-ki gave him a surprised look, and the man chuckled. "Ni-ki, you protected your companion from another hybrid who wished her harm, punishing you would be unfair."
Seo-jun sighed, pouring himself a glass of whiskey, gesturing to the other hybrids. "All my sons-in-law have already defended my daughters at the risk of their lives, you know." Ni-ki glanced at the guys, who smiled. "It's also your role to protect and defend your human companion."
"What's going to happen to Jaeg-hyun?"
"He'll serve his week of detention, and then I'll decide based on his behavior. I've always known Y/N and Nabi didn't get along, but I thought it would resolve with time." The man sighed, running a hand through his beard. "Regardless, Y/N's safety is what matters most. That's all that counts."
"Why?" Seo-jun smiled and stood up, crossing the room to sit beside the young man, who sat up attentively.
"Do you know what Y/N is? You saw that she can heal the worst wounds, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Y/N is a healer."
"A healer?"
"Every clan has one. The gift of healing is passed down to a woman in the clan who is there to protect and heal the clan. When that woman dies, the gift is given to a newly born girl, and this gift is passed down through generations."
"Is this gift always in your lineage?"
"Not necessarily. The last healer was my nursemaid," the man chuckled. "When she passed away, Y/N inherited the gift after her." Ni-ki nodded and watched the man lean toward him.
"You should know that healers have the most important place in the clan because they are the ones who protect us from external dangers. We are the only clan that binds young humans to hybrids, because we seek to create a better world where humans and hybrids would live in peace. Other clans also welcome hybrids, but they don't have the same freedom, you see."
"Yeah. So Y/N is kind of like the second leader of the clan? If she's the healer."
"Exactly," Seo-jun smiled. "And it's your duty, as her companion, to always protect her wherever she goes and whatever happens. You are her companion, her bodyguard, and the one who must ensure she thrives. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. Now, go back to Y/N, I'm sure she must be worried about what I might do to you."
They chuckled at seeing Ni-ki's ears perk up on his head at the mention of the young girl, and the puma thanked him before leaving the room. Seo-jun leaned back on the sofa, taking a sip of whiskey.
"When are you going to tell him that healers are also the ones who lead the clan once they're bonded with their companion?" Heeseung said. "And that, therefore, Ni-ki would be the new chief alongside Y/N."
"Later," Seo-jun chuckled with a smirk. "We can't scare the poor boy as soon as he arrives." The hybrids laughed, eager to see Ni-ki's face when he found out.
Ni-ki didn't waste any time looking for Y/N. Transformed like this, his senses were heightened, and he could follow the young girl's scent straight to her room. He opened the door, finding Y/N sitting on her bed, mending one of her dresses.
He closed the door with a kick, advancing into the room to jump onto the bed once transformed. The puma climbed onto Y/N's lap despite his size, pushing the fabric aside so she would give him her full attention.
"What are you doing?" she laughed. He purred, nuzzling his head into her neck, his fine whiskers brushing her skin.
Y/N chuckled and pushed her sewing aside, letting herself fall onto the mattress so Ni-ki could stretch out beside her. He curled up in her arms, resting his head on the top of her chest, closing his eyes. The young girl smiled, running her fingers through his fur to stroke him.
"My little puma," she murmured against him. Ni-ki purred, his tail wrapping around her ankle to always maintain contact with her, licking the top of her neck with a purr.
