music blasted through the bustling streets of Taipei. crowds cluttered the tight alleyways. every corner filled with groups of messy, drunk college students. rows of bars and clubs falling in a perfect parallel heaven, just what you needed for the night.
you tagged along with a few friends for the night —nothing outrageous, no intention of picking up on a “one-night thing”—phone wasn’t accepting any new numbers, just the same group chat that pinged 400 times a day.
you threw on a lazy, tight tank top and a loose pair of baggy jeans, the kind that barely sit around your hips, the tank top leaving a peak of visible midriff skin. your bag rested over your shoulder, pressed uncomfortably deep into the skin, keychains jingling behind you with every step, announcing your arrival.
you wandered around the streets aimlessly for what felt like eternity. your eyes blurred the directions until all that was left was your intuition. feet stumbling around until you finally led you to an oddly quiet bar, no large groups of people covering the dance floor, unlike the packed clubs where music trickled through the thin walls. the music was low, not a slow tempo, but a volume that was far more hushed compared to neighboring areas.
the lights emitted a serious red, cramming every inch of the dance floor, just hardly hitting the tables—where your sights met your friends' silhouettes.
your feet brought you first, body moving just behind the hasty pace you prance at, bag charms chiming— the melody catching up to your friends’ familiar ears, their heads turn— all but one.
nicholas’s back faces you, a broad length that engulfed most of your vision. his hands planted on opposing ends of the table, slumped over the pile of empty shot glasses, napkins, and plates.
your chest hit his back, arms wrapping around his wide abdomen, fingers fisting into the delicate black fabric of his shirt. he reeked of alcohol, a bitter mix of everything you could think of— no clear notes of what wasn’t drunken, it clung to him like an intoxicating fragrance. he flinch forward, legs unsteady, his lips froze, parted, mid-sentence. letting your arms slowly untangle free around him. you peaked over his slouched shoulders. his hiccups hit against you, a thick waft of bitter-sweet soju followed his breath. his hair was messy, sunglasses covered his weary eyes, t-shirt was slightly stained and wrinkled. he turned to you, hindered and sluggish, lazy moves with his unsteady state. the table turned to you, pausing their conversations. their eyes all gave a knowing look, telling a collective story… or warning. the group seemed mostly sober— an occasional shot or two shared between, but nobody was as clearly wasted as nicholas. he was a light weight— surely he wasn't too deep into the night, but the effect were catching up faster than he could run.
you tried to comfort him, take him out of the bar— but he refused. he clung to you like a signature scent. resting his throbbing, dizzy head against your shoulder. his words slurred, mumbling against your ear. you nod along, trying to juggle every ongoing conversation, along with the whiny, clingy kitten hanging onto your side. “why aren’t you listening to me~?” he paw at your tank top— tugging the fabric, fingers holding the small drift of bare skin. his pout carries the tone, nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck. with every word, he stutters deeper into your plush skin. hands ghost your waist, moving to pull the sunglasses off— as if they worked overtime to block out the absent sun of midnight, tightening them back into his hair, pinning his short black hair.
he leaned down on his chair, face lit by the dim lights, legs spread ever so slightly, boxers peaking from his shirt that raised with every lengthy stretch. soft whimpers escaped his dried lips involuntarily. he nudged you again, burying his cheek against your shoulder. “come on, don’t ignore me~….” he whined, big glossy eyes staring up at you, sharp, yet carryinga weak, admiring gaze. his lips pout narrowly, cheeks rinsed a deep pink, circulating across his face— seeping like ink into his neck. a silver chrome hearts necklace drooping on top of his shirt, catching the deep red lighting. the top of his hair tickling your neck— your heart pounds through your chest, deafening you just enough where every conversation mixed into a single head throb. loud enough to where you swore someone could hear it, swore somebody could see the way your hands shook, the way your body stuttered with every move. hesitant, nervous, reaching for items to busy your brain from his intensely close presence. feeling the heat of him radiate onto you, warming your cold arms. “yixiang— stoppp your practically drooling all over me.” you nudge his shoulder, scarcely jerking him back until the ghost of him still hugs you. feeling the heavy heart pounding, weight lifted off of you, letting your dizzied head spin one last time. he looked back at you, a small bit of damage covered his face— his sensitive form melting your love-drunk heart. his once devilish, flirty smile now replaced by a small, gentle pout.
the night carried on, laughing, shouting, and small friendly bickering between the group. all but for nicholas, he sat in his chair, arms crossed, falling into the deep cushion and hardwood with every passing second. his cheeks slowly lowered the intensity of their color, now only coated by a small, gentle pinkish-red that scatter from his cheeks over his nose. he huffed every occasional comment, scoffing at the stupid jokes being exchanged. all until he tugged onto your side one last time.
you stood above him, head already thrown back, about to down the putrid, small glass of liquor. your hair tickling your neck, tank top sticking to your skin— the sudden gesture broke your behavior, freezing, feeling his hands wrap against your waist in a familiar way— too handsy for your friendship. he stared up at you, hands shifting down to your hips— eyes pleading, twinkling beneath you. your eyes meet— no, they lock. fixed on his sharp eyes, the way they ease when looking at you.
the countless times he stared at you with nothing but pure affection, all while you were too blind to notice. lost in the gut wrenching feeling that hit with every thought of him. too scared to face your own burning bad desires.
his eyes darkening, carrying a subtle hint of light that you couldn’t distinguish. his eyes dart between you and the small glass, shirt barely hitting his lower stomach, legs bouncing anxiously. his hair was slightly messy, only pinned by sunglasses to hide just how much of a drunk mess he was. he hiccuped words, barely letting comments go without slurring them together.
he gulped, watching his adam’s apple bob before his lips parted, a thick, smushed sentence of mandarin and english, he fell forward onto you, head sink against your abdomen. you felt the cold frames press to your bare skin, his fingers toy with your tank top, then he lifted his head, slow and steady, thoughts reconnected to make one simple sentence. “can you pour that for me…” his eyes shot to your glass, hands tightening around you, fingers dinging into your skin.
and so you did.
you bent to him, his eyes stared up at you, never once cowering from your sight. he unhurriedly inched off the chair, falling barely to his knees before you. you stare down at him, the weak yet pathetic way he seated before you. his earring snags the dim lights, glowing just barely. sunglasses pushed back his silky black hair, his cheeks' shade grew more harsh, a deep, almost reddened hue. he tilted his head back, eyes wet, a strong, sparked gaze. the over head light reflected in his black orbs, and a thin layer of sweat blanketed his neck. his lips parted, and in an instant, it all happened.
your hand guiding his chin up ever so lightly, a gentle hold on his soft skin. you shove the cruel glass to his dusky rose lips, waiting for his small nod of approval before tilting it back, his head falling back with the glass. the thin liquid pouring down his lips to his chin, layering to his throat. leaving a slick trail over his pale skin. he watches you, a deep thirst lingering before the bitter alcohol. the way he became so small under you, following your every move like an unbreakable order. his lips pressed tightly, the liquid dribbling down as he hesitantly swallowed, his brows furrowing, glossy eyes breaking connection with you. your soft hand gently smacking his cheek. he squeezes his eyes gently, lips slick, a whimper ripping from his throat. his head hurried down to his chest, until it met with you again— a shaky and weak “mm… thank you~” followed his deep, raspy voice.
it continued for the night, he begged you to keep feeding him the shots, kneeling before you like a statue. even if he was about to black out, he swore it was his last.
sticking onto you, whining in your ear, to even gently pressing his lips to your neck— anything to get your attention. his behaved lips faltered, just for a second, sucking on your skin. other hand pressing you deeper into him. all while the thick, heavy scent of alcohol sat with you.
hii! can you 9 from the list with &TEAM Maki please? 🫶🏻
prompt #9 "can you braid my hair again? i liked it last time."
notes: for my dear maki stans in this app, enjoy this while i try to start a series for him🫶
• you can find my prompt list here
pairing: best friend!maki x fem!reader
tags/warnings: just lots of fluff and tension!!
wc: 3k
"ughhh this idiot... just confess already!"
what was supposed to be a relaxing movie night was being anything but peaceful. you lied on your stomach over a messy mountain of blankets that you didn't bother to tidy up in the morning, laptop balanced way too close to the edge of the bed and more than three different packages of snacks scattered around you.
"you like her. she likes you. just tell her and end this unnecessary suffering!" you muffled a scream in your pillow when the guy in the screen took a step back instead.
"genre: rom-com" someone had written in the summary. and there you were, losing your little emotional stability over a fictional couple.
"did you know that talking by yourself is one of the main symptoms of schizophrenia?"
the voice caught you so off guard that you nearly sent your laptop flying off the bed. thankfully, you reacted fast enough and stumbled forward before gravity could finish its job. "maki!!"
your roommate stood on the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and that stupid, smug smile plastered on his face. he was wearing some comfy grey pants and a simple white thank top that let his biceps show in an almost perfect sculptural way. of course he had to laugh at your tragedy while looking extra hot as well.
"did you know that scaring the shit out of your best friend can cause her a heart attack!?" you glared at him, a hand pressed against your chest.
"you'll survive." he finally took a step in, heading straight for the plate of gummy bears you had next to you. "how sweet of you to have my favorites in here."
"maki!" even if you tried to snatch the plate out of his hold, he was already swallowing the gummies like a whale. "idiot." your eyes narrowed. "get out of my room."
"this is also my room." he casually threw himself on your bed, falling almost on top of you.
"but i'm in my alone time!"
"and you were screaming like you wanted some company." he smiled at you, dimple included. you couldn't hide the effect that simple gesture had in the pitch of your stomach.
"what do you want? you wouldn't come here if you didn't want anything."
"how low you think of me..." he clutched his chest dramatically, before sitting up, eyes shining mischievously. "i actually do want something."
you sighed. those words never meant something good. "what is it?"
maki sat closer, enough to make you focus on his big puppy eyes. oh oh... he was using the secret weapon. he must want a really big favor from you- "can you braid my hair again? i liked it last time."
you raised an eyebrow in surprise. "that's it?"
"what do you mean that's it?"
"i don't know." you pointed at his face. "you gave me the puppy eyes. i thought you wanted me to plant a bomb for you."
"i don't have puppy eyes!" he frowned at you, but the slight pink creeping up his neck gave him away. "uhh... are you gonna do ir or not?"
you remembered the last time you did his hair for him. it was just a random afternoon that you ended up sprawled on the couch, scrolling on your phone with nothing better to do. maki sat on the floor, aggressively smashing buttons as he played some videogame on the tv.
eventually, your attention turned to the way he kept shaking his head from side to side every few seconds. his hair had gotten way too long, and the strands kept getting in his eyes every time he looked down at the controller. at one point, his annoyed huffing was louder than the videogame's sound effects.
without a word, you pushed him back until his body was right in between your legs. he didn't even react, too focused on the tv screen. you brushed his hair back in sections, your nails softly scrapping his scalp as you gathered all the annoying strands in your fist.
and maybe he didn't notice he did it either, but he leaned into your touch. his neck rested back comfortably against the couch, giving you better access to his head. his shoulders visibly relaxed and even the grip on his controller loosened.
then you finally tied his hair with one of the hair ties you always had around your wrist. the result was a cute little bun on top of his head, which made him look way too adorable for someone as big as him. a small smile made its way to his lips when he reached to touch it before returning to his game. "thank you."
and for the simple way he said it, you thought that was it. that he was simply thankful to you for getting the hair out of his face. what you didn't know is that he kept the bun on even when he went to sleep hours later, and then he pouted when he woke up and found out it had fallen off during the night.
now he was asking you to do it again. and he didn't want a simple bun. he wanted braids.
"here." he casually handed you a hair tie. you immediately recognized it as the same one you used the last time, but you decided not to say anything.
"fine. let's see what can i do." you got on your knees on the bed and moved to his head. his hair was now dyed in a soft pink tone and it was a bit longer than the last time, the front strands almost reaching the tip of his nose. you moved your fingers through it, wanting to untangle any knot before making the braid.
"ow." he hissed when you accidentally pulled a bit too hard.
you huffed back in response. "stay still."
"i'm staying still!"
"you're not!" you gathered some hair in your hand and parted it in three sections. as you started to make the braid, you quickly realized that the position you were in was too uncomfortable to be able to make it at least a little decent. every time you braided one section, the other one fell off. "ugh, this is harder than i thought..."
"wait." you watched him move. you thought he would get on the floor, but he got on the edge of the bed instead. "here." he casually patted his thighs for you to sit on.
you didn't think twice before sitting on his lap. physical affection had always been really common with him. falling asleep on each other's shoulder, playful smacks on your arm when he beat you in any game... you were both really touchy, and it never felt weird.
but it was the moment his hands came to rest on your waist that you froze. his thumbs rubbed slow circles on your sides, and it made your heart nearly jump out of your chest. it wasn’t the first time you felt his hands on you, but why was it affecting you so much now?
you forced yourself to look down at his hair again.
worst decision ever.
the new position made it so much easier to reach his hair, but it also gave you a better view of what you were actually sitting on. his shoulders were right in front of you, broad and barely covered by the thin shirt. the muscles in his arms flexed slightly as he grabbed your waist, his chest rising and falling steadily... why was the air suddenly so warm?
you swallowed hard before focusing back on your task. you parted his hair right in the middle, his dark roots peeking through the pink strands. it was silk and soft, and it still had a faint scent of shampoo on it that made you unconsciously lean closer.
"why were you screaming at the movie?" he suddenly asked, voice coming out low and slightly deeper than usual.
"oh, the boy was being an idiot. if he likes the girl that much, he should just confess."
maki waited a few seconds before answering. "maybe he thinks she doesn't like him back."
"bullshit. the whole movie is them basically staring at each other for two hours. it's so obvious." carefully, you finished the first braid and moved to the second hair section.
"and that means they're in love?"
"of course." you said confident. "now shut up, i'm concentrated."
maki went quiet. his hands tightened on your waist just a bit, enough to make your heart twist again. the constant movement of your fingers through his hair was relaxing him a bit too much, that he even forgot to answer back with a sarcastic comment. he had to physically fight the urge to lean his head on your chest.
instead, he discreetly looked up at you when you weren't paying attention. getting you to sit on his lap was the first mistake he made that night. the second was thinking he could survive it.
he was failing miserably.
the same way he failed when he slept with that stupid little bun on, because taking it off meant losing the feeling of your hands on his hair.
and the same way he was failing now, staring at you in pure awe. he stared at the small frown of concentration between your brows. at the way your tongue peeked out slightly when a rebel hair strand slipped from your fingers. at the way your body fitted just so naturally on his lap.
he was torturing himself, while you looked completely unaffected. or at least you were pretending to be. because he noticed the faint blush on your cheeks and the slight stiffness when he placed his hands on your waist. but maybe he was just imagining it.
"why are you staring?" your voice snapped him off his thoughts. he actually jumped a little, embarrassment creeping up to his cheeks. you had already finished the second braid, and he didn't even notice it.
he tried to sound casual when he answered. "you have a lot of moles." that wasn't the reason he was staring, but of course he noticed that as well. he noticed everything about you.
"what?"
"here." he poked your cheek. "and here." his finger lingered on your skin longer than necessary, before pulling it down. then his jaw tightened, like he instantly regretted that move.
you blinked at him, eyes widening in surprise. the spot he just touched on your cheek felt warm now. maki looked just as surprised as you, like he didn't know why he did that. “you have too.” you muttered, poking his cheek just like he did.
this time, you didn't miss the immediate shaky breath that left his lips. it was ridiculous. the two of you didn't know personal space around each other, and yet just a tiny poke on his cheek was enough to short circuit his brain.
“do i?” he whispered, eyes glued to yours like there was suddenly something preventing him from looking away.
you nodded. your finger traced the moles on his right cheek together, as if they were a star constellation. “they say moles appear in the places where you were kissed in your past life.”
“really?” when you nodded, his hand moved from your waist to your cheek. his palm was big enough to cover it entirely. the touch was gentle and careful, but it made you forget how to breathe for a moment. “then you must've been kissed a lot.”
maki tilted your head slightly to the side, revealing the smaller moles hidden on the side of your neck. your pulse jumped incredibly high, and you were sure he could feel it under his thumb.
the tension in the room was so tight that even the air felt heavier around you. the touch wasn't playful anymore. his voice didn't carry the usual teasing tone either. he was simply staring at you, like a person who just found something too precious and had no idea what to do with it. maki had never looked at you this way. or maybe he did, but you didn't pay enough attention.
“i finished the braids.” you drastically changed the subject after blushing like crazy at his words.
he let out a small chuckle before touching them briefly. the braids turned out quite short, like two little horns on each side of his head, but they actually suited him really well. “do they look cute?”
“you look cute.” the words left your mouth before you could stop them. the second they did, you wanted to throw yourself through the nearest window. your face burned like fire and yet, you couldn't look away from him.
maki's smile only got bigger. “thank you.” his hands moved to your lower back to pull you a bit closer. his eyes were back on your face, analyzing it closely.
and you did the same. your gaze focused on the tiny freckles scattered across his nose and how long his eyelashes were from up close. you had found yourself admiring his features many times before, when he fell asleep on your lap after an exhausting day. but now, it was like looking at him for the first time. you were noticing details you never saw before, and the most important one was in his eyes.
you had always brushed it off when your friends told you that maki looked at you differently. of course he did. he was more patient and softer with you, because you were his best friend, and he had always taken special care of you. that's what friends did.
“you're staring.” it was his voice what snapped you out of your daze this time.
“so are you.”
“yeah.” he laughed under his breath. “and according to your logic, what does that mean?”
you didn't even try to hide the way your eyes widened. you knew exactly what he was referring to. and judging by the way his smirk widened, he had asked just to hear you saying it again.
the stupid movie and your stupid comment.
“that means they're in love?”
“of course.”
“it means…” maki's eyes lit up hopefully. that stupid dimple showed up in his cheek when he smiled. you recognized that smile. it was the nervous one. the one that came with a little huff and a faint red tint on his cheekbones. he was waiting for your answer.
you bit your lip nervously, trying to find your words. “it means…” your mouth opened again, but you ended trailing off. for a minute, you could only stare at him. he was close. too damn close that you could even hear his heart beating like crazy. or was it yours?
the answer was simple, but it suddenly felt like the hardest combination of words you've ever known. you were thinking too much about the answer. about his hands on your waist. about everything.
your gaze dropped to the moles constellation on his cheek. that's when you stopped thinking and leaned in instead. a quick kiss pressed right above the little mole next to his lips. it barely lasted a second, but it was enough to make his whole body go completely still.
you locked eyes when you pulled back. neither of you moved. you were both too stunned to speak. then, right when he was about to open his mouth, reality hit you all at once. you let out a strangled scream and scrambled off his lap so fast that your coordination betrayed you, feet tangling in your own blanket mess before your butt ended up hitting the floor with a loud thud.
maki gasped loudly, covering his mouth in surprise. “oh my god! are you okay!?” he was already leaning down to help you, but another scream from you cut him off.
you dragged your butt back through the floor like a snake, wide eyes looking up at him like you were seeing a ghost. “good night!” you spit the words out and pushed yourself up to your feet, almost tripping for a second time before your hand finally reached the doorknob.
“what?” maki stood up in pure confusion. you didn't even look back. you didn't trust yourself to stay in the same room as him for one more second. you yanked the door so hard that it closed with a loud bang behind you.
he flinched, the air softly moving his bangs up. a heavy silence filled the room. then, a third high-pitched scream was heard from somewhere in the apartment, and he immediately bursted out laughing.
“good night?” he repeated to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. then his hand moved to his hair, his expression softening as his fingers traced the braids you had put so much care into. slowly, he lowered it to his cheek. the spot where your lips had touched it was still warm and tingling.
maki let out a shaky laugh, feet walking back until they gave up and his body fell on the bed. on your bed.
no matter how many times he exhaled, his heart refused to calm down. it was his turn to cover his face and let out a muffled scream against your blanket.
his head turned to the side, until his eyes stopped on your laptop. the screen was still on with the movie frozen mid-scene.
without thinking, he pressed play. the couple was staring at each other, the tension obvious even through the screen. as they stood closer, the music shifted to something low and intimate. the girl looked at his lips and the guy grabbed her hand.
maki stared at it, suddenly invested. they leaned closer to each other, and so did him towards the screen. their noses were touching, their lips just a few centimeters away. it was there. it was right there-
summary... when you performed the spell to get your familiar, you expected anything but the hybrid you got. now here you are, in college making frowned upon potions with your hybrid familiar. what could go wrong? maybe the fact that you're completely in love with your familiar...
pairing... blackcatfamiliar!nicholas x witch!reader
tags... idiots to lovers, fluff, angst/comfort, one asshole shop owner, reader is an idiot, overuse of the word kitten, alcohol consumption (nothing excessive) smut... dom!nicholas, sub!reader, oral (both), nipple play, dirty talk, hair pulling, spanking, unprotected sex
word count... 10.2k
notes... okay so this was on an old account of mine that i deactivated. idk if the fic is still lingering around but if you have read a jungwon version that seems familiar to this then that's why. likes and reblogs appreciated.
now playing... rhiannon by fleetwood mac
"where is it?"
you take a step back, looking over the shelves until you found the jar that you were looking for. once you found it, you grabbed it, reading the back to make sure it was what you were looking for because you may have bought the wrong thing once or twice, and the last thing you needed was to spend more money when you needed it.
it was perhaps a little frowned open what you did, selling potions while you were still in college. there weren't any rules against it, so no one really said anything. you weren't making nearly as much as you would've if you were out of school, but it was plenty enough for you and your familiar to get by.
"you finding everything okay, doll?"
your gaze snaps up from the jar, glancing at the sketchy shop owner who was staring at you from down the aisle. his name was kevin, and he was the bane of your existence. he wouldn't be a problem if the place didn't have a magic ban on it. at least you never came in here weaponless.
you open your mouth to answer but stop when you feel a black tail wrap around your waist. you look back to see your familiar, nicholas, staring at kevin with a sharp glare. his eyes turn feline before he lets out a loud hiss, successfully scaring away kevin who you can hear mumble that he'll be at the register when you were ready.
nicholas' eyes return to normal before it meets yours. "why can't we find another ingredient shop again?"
"because the closest one besides this one is an hour away." you answer, putting the jar in the basket he was holding. "besides, you know he's all talk."
"don't ever come here without me."
you roll your eyes, already quite familiar with his demands. you bite back your retort about how you were technically the one in charge, but you know that never goes anywhere, making it easier to just agree with him.
it was very rare for familiars to be hybrids. none of the people at your school had one, and none of your teachers believed you when you said your familiar was a hybrid. it wasn't until he showed up one day with a shit eating grin and proving all of them wrong that they believed you.
you didn't care if they believed you or not, but you also don't blame them for not believing you. you didn't even believe it yourself at first. all you knew was that you were supposed to perform the spell that gives you your familiar on your 16th birthday. you followed everything perfectly, having studied the spell for months, but instead of getting an animal like everyone else, you got a sassy 5'10" black cat hybrid with ears that almost blended in with his black hair.
you didn't mind though. it was nice going through life with an actual person instead of an animal. especially since your parents all but abandoned you as soon as you turned 18. nicholas was there, helping you pick up all of your broken pieces and then some. he was a good familiar and a good friend. a friend that loved to blur the lines of friendship and make you confused about your feelings for him, but a friend nonetheless.
"yes sir." you salute before moving to grab your last herb. you didn't make it very far because of his tail that was still wrapped around your waist, forcing you to look back at him.
"i mean it, kitten."
"i know you do." you tell him, frowning when it looked like he didn't believe you. it led you to grabbing his hand, linking his pinky with yours. "i promise i will not come into this store alone."
"good girl." he smiled, leaning down to kiss your temple before pulling away. "now where is the last thing, so we can get out of here."
you duck your head, feeling your face flush as you turn away from him. he follows you, keeping your tail around your wrist like he normally did. he's always been like this- touchy with you. you used to could be able to brush it off, but it started getting harder and harder to do. you didn't understand it, so you brought it up with your close friend and classmate, harua.
"oh that's easy. you like him."
you remember scoffing at his answer. "of course i like him. he's my familiar."
"no you idiot. i mean you like him more than that."
you originally refused the answer that harua gave you. it wasn't until you thought about it that you finally agreed with him. he gloated, but it didn't last long with you said you weren't going to do anything about it. you couldn't be with him.
nicholas was your familiar. you two were bound for life. what if you two got together and broke up? that would make things unnecessarily awkward. that's if he returned those feelings- which you didn't think he did. you would rather just suck it up and ignore them. harua didn't agree with any of what you said, and to this day is still trying to convince you to try.
nicholas let out a satisfied sigh once you gave him your last ingredient. he then held out his hand making you roll your eyes. his tail lets go of you when you start digging in your bag before pulling out your wallet. you hand it to him before following him to the register. his broad shoulders block you completely as he checks out. you notice him give kevin one last glare before he leads you out of the store.
"i would still prefer it if we found another shop." nicholas mention as you walked down the street to where your car was parked.
"i know. next time, we'll go to a different one. deal?" he smiled at your words, happy he was finally getting his way.
"deal, kitten."
the next time you had to go to grab some ingredients for a potion was two weeks after your deal with nicholas. unfortunately for you, you didn't have time to go to the one outside of town, leaving you to go to your usual one. you knew he was going to kill you when he found out, but at least you weren't technically breaking your promise because you weren't going alone.
"i feel like this is going to end bad." harua said as he got out of the car. you shrug your shoulders before starting to walk towards the shop.
"you're overthinking. this is the last time i'll step foot in here. i just need these ingredients today."
you had someone offer you double your original price if you could get this potion to them tomorrow, and you would be stupid if you didn't accept that. only issue is that nicholas wasn't around to accompany you.
"and why can't nicholas come?"
"i told you. an arcade opened up downtown, and him and maki have been waiting months for it to open. i'm not going to ruin that for him." you answer.
maki was a fellow golden retriever hybrid that belonged to a mutual friend of yours, euijoo. the two of them have been close since you two introduced them a little over a year ago.
"you know he wouldn't mind rescheduling." he told you as he opened the shop door for you.
"i know that." you sigh walking into the store, feeling relieved when you didn't see kevin. "but he deserves this. he shouldn't have to sacrifice the things he wants to do just because one asshole can't take a hint."
harua nodded in understanding before looking around. "you know that this is the only place in town that inhibits our powers? maybe you should listen to nicholas and go to the one i go to. i know the owner, fuma. he's pretty cool."
"nicholas and i were talking about it, but i just didn't have enough time to drive that far for this order." you tell him as the two of you start grabbing the jars you need. you were thankful he knew exactly what you needed for this potion, so the two of you could hurry and get out of there.
"i still don't know if you're going to have enough time. why did you accept this job anyway?"
"i need the money." you answer as you look to harua who raised his brows, knowing that you weren't telling him everything. "you know nicholas' birthday is coming up, and i wanted to get him something special."
"what are you going to get him?"
"he's been wanting a gaming set up, so he can play with maki and euijoo instead of having me drive him over there all the time. i didn't realize how expensive the idea was before coming up with it." you answer, looking back when you didn't get a response to see harua smiling. "what?"
"are you going to tell him you're in love with him while you're at it?" you open your mouth to scold him, but you heard someone clear their throat from behind you, stopping you before you could say anything.
"good afternoon, doll. how are you today?"
you met harua's gaze for a moment before turning to see kevin standing at the counter. "fine. you?"
"better since you're here." you roll your eyes at his answer before going back to getting the things you need.
"oh my god." harua whispered, sticking to your side. "you didn't say he was that creepy."
"yes i did." you couldn't help but laugh as harua wraps his arm around yours, gripping your wrist.
"he's glaring daggers at me. can we hurry?"
you nod your head, grabbing the last thing you need before you and harua walk over to the counter where kevin was. you handed him the basket, and he started ringing everything up. you were always behind nicholas for this part, so it felt weird watching him. especially when he couldn't even take his eyes off of you for more than two seconds.
"who's your friend?" the two of you look over at kevin when he motions to harua. you look over to harua with an apologetic expression- which he brushes off before smiling at him.
"i'm harua. yn's boyfriend." you eyes widened at his answer for a second before you recover. kevin pauses ringing you up as he looks at you.
"what happened to the cat?"
you finally meet his eyes- this time with a glare. "his name is nicholas, and he is none of you business."
kevin got the message, continuing to ring you up. you feel harua grab your hand, squeezing reassuringly which you return. once kevin had everything checked out, he handed you back your basket while he printed out the receipt. once it was printed, he held it up to you with what you thought was a disgusted look.
"so you're little cat doesn't mind you whoring yourself around?" you hear harua let out a gasp as you gawk at him. it took you a few seconds to respond to his insult, but once you did, you let out a scoff.
"so because i'm not interested you, i'm a whore?" you question, snatching the receipt out of his hand. "if that's the case, harua i guess you're dating a whore."
you quickly turn, not allowing him to respond before you storm out of the store. you hear harua running to catch up with you as you make your way back to your car. "are you okay?"
"peachy." you answer as the two of you got inside of the car. once you start the car, you let out a groan of frustration as you lay your head on the steering wheel. "we should've went to the other place."
"you're telling nicholas about that right?"
"no." you hear harua groan at your answer. "you know exactly what he's going to do, and i don't have bail money."
"you need to tell him. he has no right to say those things to you." you look over at him, knowing that he's right, but not having any clue on how to tell him. you knew he was going to be mad at you, and you hated when he was.
"i know." you sigh, running your hand over your face. "i will. just let me finish this order, and i will tell him."
"okay."
the next day, you had somehow successfully managed to complete the order when it was needed. you don't know how you did it. you had to stay up all night to complete it. thankfully nicholas decided to stay over at euijoo's, so he didn't wonder why you were staying up so late.
you still didn't know how you were going to tell him about yesterday. you thought of every possible way to tell him while you worked on the potion, but none of them seemed good enough. maybe it was just the lack of sleep keeping you from thinking properly.
you had just fallen asleep on the couch when the front door slammed shut. you nearly jump out of your skin at the sound, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes when you saw nicholas storm into the living room. in your half asleep state, you couldn't see the angry expression on his face as you greet him.
"hey nicho. how was-"
"don't hey nicho me." he interrupted, confusing you. "why did i just get a call from harua telling me the two of you went to kevin's shop yesterday?"
that question woke you up real quick. "look, i was going to tell you, but i fell asleep."
"you shouldn't have to tell me anything. you shouldn't have gone at all. you promised me you would go in there without me." you shrink under nicholas' glare.
"i said i wouldn't go alone, and i didn't."
"you know damn well that's not what i meant." you jump as nicholas snaps at you. "what if he tried something? you and harua are practically useless without your magic."
your face falls as his words hit you. "nicho-"
"do you have any idea how irresponsible and dangerous that was?" he questioned. "what was so important that you just had to go back there?"
at least harua didn't give that away- not like it mattered. you couldn't bring yourself to even look at him, too ashamed at yourself. your answer wouldn't matter anyway.
you hear nicholas scoff in anger. "of course you don't have an answer. i'm going to stay with euijoo and maki until you can answer me."
you wait until you hear the front door slam shut before the tears start to fall. you didn't know how you were going to get him to forgive you for this.
you spent the weekend in bed, completely distraught over your and nicholas' argument. you understood what you did was against your promise, so his anger was warranted. but that didn't stop his words from hurting you, bringing tears to your eyes every time you replayed the moment in your head.
you had tried to call him a couple times, but he never answered you. at first you thought it was because he was trying to calm himself down, so he wouldn't snap again. but then the doubts started to creep in. maybe he finally got tired of you just like your parents did. maybe he realized that he didn't need you as much as you needed him.
these thoughts kept plaguing your mind, even when you were in class. you couldn't even focus on what your teachers were saying, so you left class early and skipped your last class, finding it pointless when you weren't learning anything.
you found yourself tucked into the back of the library at an empty table, staring at your computer while you tried to catch up from your classes. you were in the middle of reading something when someone pulled out the chair in front of you. you glance up to see a guilty looking harua sit down in front of you.
you look away from him and back to your screen. you weren't mad at him because you knew the argument wasn't his fault- it was yours. you just wanted to be the one to tell nicholas. you didn't know if it would make a difference, or if he would be just as mad either way. it didn't matter though because what was done was done.
you look back over to harua when he slides something towards you. you glance at your favorite drink, a wave of nausea hitting you at the thought of eating or drinking anything. "i'm sorry. when i brought that up to nicholas, i thought you had already told him. i wouldn't have said anything if i knew."
"i know you wouldn't. i have no one to blame but myself."
"how did he react?" he asked. "he sounded upset over the phone."
you don't answer him for a moment, trying to compose yourself so you didn't cry in the middle of the library. "about as bad as you'd expect. he yelled at me before leaving. i haven't seen him in three days."
"he left?" he asked shocked.
"he asked me what was so important that i went there for. when i couldn't tell him, he said he was staying with euijoo and maki until i gave him an answer. he won't answer any of my calls or texts. thankfully euijoo has been keeping me updated on him."
"now i feel even worse." you shake your head at harua's words.
"don't. it's my fault."
"i still feel bad. no wonder you haven't drank this." sunoo motioned to the untouched drink in front of him that would be at least half empty by now. "are you eating? drinking?"
"yes." you lie.
all witches knew that once they found their familiar, they weren't supposed to be away from them for extended periods. the longer they were apart, the worse the witch felt. you haven't been able to eat or drink anything since nicholas left, throwing everything up every time you tried.
it felt like a piece of you was missing. you were doing everything in your power to not go marching over to euijoo's and seeing him. the only reason you weren't was you were still upset with him. that and you really didn't think he wanted to see you.
"you need to go and see him. i'll come with you." you shake your head, mumbling about how you didn't want to see him. "yn, you know it's only going to get worse."
"i deserve it." you tell him. "you didn't hear what he said, harua. i know he only said them because he was mad, but they still hurt. the last thing i want to do is see him, and i'm sure he feels the same."
"what are you going to do?"
you shrug, not knowing the answer yourself. "i'll figure something out, but for now, help me catch up from what i missed."
the two of you stayed in the library for a few hours before you went your separate ways, silently dreading going back to your empty apartment. you rubbed at your tired eyes as you stepped into your place, taking off your shoes when you noticed something- nicholas' shoes in his usual spot.
it was then you could feel his presence like you always could, making you nervous that he was here. you didn't want another argument between the two of you.
you throw your bag onto the floor before walking into the living room, and sure enough, nicholas was there sitting on the couch scrolling on his phone. you saw his black ear twitch at the sound of your footsteps before looking up at you.
"are you back?" you ask, fully expecting him to say no. instead he put his phone back in his pocket before motioning to the spot next to him. you walk over and sit on the opposite end of the couch, not know how close you should sit to him.
"you really hurt me." you find your eyes starting to sting as you listen to him. "i asked you not to do something, and you agreed not to just to turn around and do it."
your eyes trail down to your lap where your fingers were playing with your jewelry- a habit you did when you were nervous. "i'm really sorry. i never wanted to hurt you. i thought if harua came with me, it would've been okay."
"why didn't you just come to me?" you feel his eyes on you after he asks the question, but you didn't make any move to look at him.
"you had plans with maki and i-" you try to explain, but nicholas stops you.
"that's not an excuse."
"it is for me." you finally look up and meet his gaze. you could tell he was trying hard not to get angry, so you tried to pick your words carefully. "you had been looking forward to those plans for weeks. you had already done so much for me, and i just wanted you to be able to go out and have fun."
"i would've rescheduled." he told you. "you know i would have. we could've went to the other one, and none of this would have happened."
"i know you would've, but i didn't want you to." you pull away from his gaze, not wanting to look at him for your next admission. it was better for him to know everything, even if it upset him even more. "i also didn't have time to go to the other one."
"what do you mean?"
"i took an express order." you told him. the two of you talked about it a couple of times, and you both agreed that you wouldn't do it unless you both thought it necessary. "they wanted it by the next morning, so i didn't have time to drive all the way there and back."
you hear nicholas let out a sigh, and you already had a feeling you knew what his next question would be. "are you going to tell me what was so important that you did all of this for?"
"i'm shocked you haven't figured it out yet." you admit as you look over at him, watching as his brows furrow in confusion. "what's coming up next week, nicho?"
it takes him a second, but he finally figures it out. "kitten, i told you i didn't want anything for my birthday. you already spent enough with euijoo for the party next week."
"do you really think i'm not going to get the most important person to me a gift for their birthday? who do you think i am?"
"you're making it really hard to be upset with you." nicholas told you, still trying to keep his composure, but all it took was one smile from you to lose it. you felt yourself relax as he laughed. "why didn't you just say that two days ago?"
"you kind of didn't give me a chance to."
it was then he noticed how far away you were actually sitting from him. normally you would be sitting right next to him, legs thrown over his lap. he could see you biting your lip, trying not to cry again as you looked away from him.
you were about to excuse yourself, but as soon as you stood up, nicholas grabbed your waist, pulling you onto his lap. your legs straddled his as you wrap your arms around his neck, and you heard nicholas let out a small curse when you started crying.
"i'm sorry for what i said, kitten. i didn't mean any of it." he told you, rubbing his hand down your back as he comforted you. "i was just mad. you're not useless or irresponsible."
"i thought you were going to leave me."
nicholas pulled away from you, brushing away your tears before cupping your cheeks, giving you no other option but to look at him. "i wouldn't be able to function without you by my side. you're stuck with me for the rest of our lives."
"you promise?"
he nodded, kissing your temple before pulling you back into his arms. "i promise."
after you and nicholas made up, things between the two of you went back to normal. well, almost. you couldn't understand what felt different, but there was something you couldn't put your finger on.
you tried to explain it to harua, but for once he didn't have an answer either, just as stumped as you were. you chose to brush it off since it wasn't causing any harm. besides, today was nicholas' birthday, and you weren't going to do anything to mess it up.
maki has kept nicholas busy all day while you, euijoo, and harua set up everything. it took most of the day for you three to set everything up, and you were pretty sure your hands were going to be sore tomorrow from tying so many balloons. but it was worth it. euijoo's place looked great.
people had already started to show up when you and harua were finishing up setting up the food. euijoo turned on the music and dimmed the lights while you did one last look around to make sure everything was perfect.
you pulled out your phone to text nicholas to see when he would be here when something wrapped around your waist. you glance down, seeing the black tail that you know belonged to your familiar before turning around. he laughs, catching you when you jump into his arms.
"happy birthday, nicho!"
"thank you, kitten." he kissed your cheek before setting you down. "this place looks great. you did a good job."
"i helped too, you know." you turn when you hear harua's voice, pulling away from nicholas, so he could greet him.
the three of you stand there for a minute, talking about setting up when some other friends of his came to greet nicholas. you and harua shared a look before you both moved away, so he could hang out with his friends, though you stopped when nicholas' tail wrapped around your wrist.
"where are you going?"
"i'm going to get a drink." you answer. "i'll catch up with you. go have fun with your friends."
though you kind of regret that now. the party's been in swing for a few hours, and you all have just sang happy birthday to him. people were starting to get tipsy from alcohol. you learned quickly to never let euijoo mix drinks again when you couldn't even finish your first one it was so strong.
you were talking with two witches from your class, glancing back occasionally to check on nicholas. he was sitting on the couch on the other side of the room from you. you haven't been able to talk to him since earlier, and it seemed like every time you tried, he would get swamped with friends.
this time when you glanced back, you noticed that there was a new girl sitting next to him- another cat hybrid. you didn't recognize her as you looked her over. her brown hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and her dress was very short. you shrugged her off at first, thinking she was just a friend. but then she placed her hand on his thigh with a flirty smile, and nicholas didn't push her away. you felt your heart sink when he smiled back at her.
you look away from them, staring down at your drink while you tried to hide your jealousy. of course he wouldn't want a witch. why would he when he could have a pretty hybrid like the one right next to him? you felt yourself become sick at the thought of him being someone else's. you turn back around to look again when someone wrapped their arm around your shoulder.
"what's cooking, good looking?" you smile before looking up and meeting the eyes of maki.
"hey maki." you greet, turning to him fully. "you having fun?"
he pulled you closer to him, leaning down so you could hear him. "you and juju really know how to throw a party. you need to do mine next. i'm thinking a costume party where everyone dresses up like halloween."
"halloween in february. i dig it." you answer.
"i knew you'd get it. you should dress up as tinkerbell, and i'll be peter pan."
"only if nicholas could be your wendy." you joked, laughing when maki doubled over in laughter. clearly, he had a little too much to drink. once he recovered, he pulled you back underneath his arm, which wasn't anything new. "speaking of nicholas. who's that girl next to him?"
maki turned and looked, letting out a scoff before turning back to you. "that's sarah. she's been trying to get with nicholas for i don't know how long."
"he's never mentioned her to me." you hum, taking a sip of your drink and nearly spitting it out when maki gets close to your face again.
"probably because he hates her."
it was your turn to let out a scoff. you turned to see if they were still in the same position as before, and they were. "where do you see that? the two are currently cuddled up on the couch together."
"are you jealous?" you roll your eyes at his question. thankfully the lights were dim enough to hide your blush.
"no. they're just painting a different picture than what you're saying."
"don't worry, babe. you're secret's safe with me." maki smiles at you when you shove him. "not like it's much of a secret anyway. you two are so obvious about it."
"shut up." you glare. you didn't miss the fact that he said the two of you instead of just you. you just didn't want to believe him. especially not with the scene that was playing out behind you.
"wanna make him jealous?" he asks, confusing you.
"how would we do that?"
"do you trust me?" you shrug at his question.
"i probably shouldn't."
you look away for a moment, greeting a friend as they passed by you two. as soon as you turn your attention back to maki, you jump in shock when his lips meet yours. you don't even kiss him back. you just stand there when he's ripped away from you. your view of maki is blocked by nicholas.
"what the fuck maki?"
"come on man." you hear maki's whine. "we were having fun. weren't we yn?"
nicholas turned around, looking down at still very confused you. you could see his eyes flickering between his normal ones and his cat like ones- a clear sign he was mad. his hand suddenly grabbed your wrist before pulling you away.
"nicho? what are you doing?" you question as he pulls you towards the stairs. apparently, you weren't going fast enough because nicholas turned to you again. you let out a yell when he threw you over his shoulder before making his way upstairs. "nicholas, what the hell? put me down!"
he ignored you and kept walking until he reached the guest bedroom where he stays when he's here. you let out another yell when he throws you onto the bed. you bounce at the movement before you hear the door slam shut. you look over at nicholas like he had lost his mind.
"what the hell is wrong with you?"
"i should be asking you that." nicholas responded. "why the hell were you kissing maki?"
you let out a groan before standing up. "i didn't do anything, asshole. blame your best friend."
when he didn't respond causing you to look over at him. he still had the glare on his face as he walked towards you. "you shouldn't have kissed him. you're not his."
his words left you confused. you knew you weren't maki's, but did he mean that you were his? you couldn't tell how he had meant it. "i didn't kiss maki. he asked me if i trusted him, and when i stupidly said yes, he kissed me. i didn't kiss him back. i didn't even have a chance to push him away before you showed up."
nicholas looks at you for a moment, making sure you were telling the trutch before turning to leave. "where are you going?"
"to kill maki." you flicked your wrist when nicholas opened the door causing the door to slam shut. you didn't only shock nicholas, but also yourself with that move. you never used magic on him. he tried to open the door, but he knew it wouldn't budge until you opened it yourself. he turned to you with a look you haven't seen from him before. "open the door, kitten."
"no. you can't just throw me over your shoulder, tell me i'm not maki's, and then leave. what are you even going to do when you go back out there? yell at him before going back to sarah?" you let the words flow out of your mouth without even thinking about them. you weren't sure where this confidence was coming from. "maybe i should go back out there too. i could find maki, and we can finish what we started."
a low growl comes out of him as he storms back to you. his hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back to look into his now feline eyes. "you are mine. do you understand me? mine."
"words mean nothing if you don't prove them."
his hand tightens around your hair at your words before his lips slam into yours. the hand that isn't tangled in your hair grips your waist and pulls you closer to him. your hands move to grip his shirt as you kiss him back. his tongue slides past your lips before brushing against yours, causing a soft moan to escape. his grip on your waist tightens around your waist before he pulls away from you.
when he pulled back, he rested his head on yours. his eyes weren't feline anymore. the reality of what just happened hit you. your familiar kissed you. you kissed him back. and now that you have, you never wanted him to stop. his hand fell from your hair before brushing against your cheek.
"kitten. if you don't want this, you need to tell me to stop. we'll forget this ever happened." you blink at his words, thinking that maybe he was the one who wanted to stop until you saw how much he was holding back.
instead of answering him, you pull him back down to you, kissing him once again. nicholas got the message, pulling you flush against him as his hands slid down your body and under your shirt. you melt into him when you feel his warm hands tracing your body, slowly trailing towards your chest.
he pulled away from you for a second before his lips attached to your neck. you could feel his sharp teeth graze your skin, leaving red marks decorating your skin before he left a dark bruise on your neck. he kissed the now sensitive skin before pulling away from you.
"are you sure you want this, kitten?"
you instantly nodded your head. "i do. please, nicho."
whatever hesitation nicholas had disappeared the moment you begged for him. you could see the shift in him, and it turned you on even more. "then get on your knees, kitten."
you did as he said, sitting on your knees before looking up at him. he let out a groan before his hand brushed your cheek. "always my perfect girl. listening to everything i say. isn't that right?" you nod your head at his question. "here's what gonna happen kitten. you're going to be a good girl and suck my cock before i have fun with that pretty pussy okay?"
you let out a whine at his words, not used to your familiar talking to you so crude. he could tell you loved it though by the subtle shift in your thighs. once you nodded your head, you watched as his hands went to his jeans. he unbuttons his jeans before sliding them and his boxers down his hips. you eyes widen as he springs out, hard and flushed, begging for attention. you didn't make any move towards him, waiting until he motioned you forward did you move.
one had rested on his thigh while the other one wrapped around his length. you pump his length a few times, earning a groan from nicholas before you leaned forward. you licked the underside of his length before placing his head in your mouth and sucking. you watched as nicholas threw his head back as you started to move your head, using your hand for what you couldn't fit in your mouth.
"my sweet kitten- fuck." you nearly gagged when he thrusted into your mouth. his hand moved around to grip your hair again as he continued to move his hips. you blink back tears as hold onto his hips for stability. "i always wondered what this pretty mouth felt like."
you flush at his words, hollowing your cheeks as your tongue swirls around him. his grip tighten in your hair, a low groan falling from his lips. "you're doing so good for me, kitten."
you moan at his words, the vibration making nicholas' hips jerk. you could feel him twitching under your touch, and when you look up at him, you could tell he was barely haning on, his dark eyes meeting yours. "are you going to let me cum in this pretty mouth, kitten?"
all it takes was a nod of your head for him to finish with a loud groan causing you to gag when you felt his release hit the back of your throat. you pull away from him, coughing after you had swallowed. you were catching your breath when he bent down in front of you.
"open." you do as he says, sticking out your tongue to show him. "good kitten."
your arms wrap around his neck as his lips press against yours. you try to get up, but you feel yourself being lifted by nicholas before you could. your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you over to bed. you felt your back hit the bed as helaid you down, teeth biting your bottom lip before he pulls away.
his hands grip the bottom of your shirt, and you sit up enough for him to pull it over your head. his lips attach to your neck, biting and marking every place his lips touch. you arch into his touch when his hands squeeze your breasts.
"so responsive, kitten."
his hands squeeze your breast again before he moves to unhook your bra. he slides it down your arms, throwing it before moving down your body. you let out a moan when his lips attach to your nipple, sucking harshly.
"fuck, nicho."
he smirks against your breast, clearly loving the sounds that are coming out of you. he continues to bite and suck, leaving bruises all over your chest and stomach. he stops at the hem of your jeans and chuckles when you shift your hips.
"does my girl need some relief?"
"yes." you answer, jumping when he bits your thigh. "please nicho."
he kneels down between your legs, quickly unbuttoning your pants before pulling them down your legs. his lips ghost up your thigh as he makes his way to your heat. "god, kitten. you're never wearing clothes around me again."
nicholas lifts your legs, placing them over his shoulder as he lines his face with your heat. he tests the waters, sticking his tongue out, tasting you and groaning as he does so. after a small whine from you, he finally gives you the relief you want. his tongue darts out again, licking a long strip up your folds. you back arches when his tongue flicks your clit before attaching his lips to it.
"fuck." you roll your hips against his face causing a groan to come out of nicholas.
"i can't believe i waited so long to do this." he mumbles against you. "you taste so good, kitten."
he trails his fingers around your entrance, teasing you until you let out a begging whimper. you feel him smile as he slowly pushes his index finger inside of you, feeling you tighten around his finger as you adjust to him. your hands grip the sheets, a moan coming out of your mouth when he curls his finger.
"nicho." you cry out when he eases a second finger inside of you. his speed increased while his tongue continued to move in patterns on your clit. you were a moaning mess beneath him, gripping his hair in your hand while he brought you closer to your climax. "nicho, i- fuck."
you couldn't even fully warn him before you climaxed. nicholas tightened his grip on your waist, continuing his movements and not showing any signs of slowing down. you felt overly sensitive as you came down from your high, trying to pull away from him. he open his eyes before looking up at you.
"you can handle one more, right kitten?" you found yourself nodding at his question before you could even think. "one more before i fill you with my cock."
you whine at his words. you feel nicholas smirk against you before his lips reattaches to your clit. you moan out his name again, completely losing yourself in his touch. it didn't take long at all for your second climax to build back up.
"nicho, i'm-"
"i know, kitten." you hear him say. "you're going to be my perfect girl and cum all over my fingers again, aren't you?"
"yes." you moan out.
all it took was one more curl of his fingers before you climaxed again. he helped you through your high before pulling away from you. his lips ghost up your body before pressing against you lips. his tongue pushes through your lips, brushing against yours. he pulled away, giving you one last kiss before leaning up.
"roll over kitten." you do as he says and rolling over onto your stomach. nicholas grabs your waist, positioning you to where you were on your knees with your ass in the air. you look over your shoulder when you hear rustling. he discarded the rest of his clothes before looking at you. his hands run over your ass before kneading the flesh. "who does this ass belong to yn? does it belong to maki?"
you jump slightly when his hand lands on your cheek. "no."
"then who does it belong to?"
"you." he slaps your ass again at your answer.
"i didn't quite catch that kitten."
"you, nicho." you whine. he groans in satisfaction, running his hands over the spot he spanked.
"that's right. so what aren't we going to let maki do again?"
"kiss me." you answer, jumping when he spanked you. you look in confusion to see him clearly waiting for the right answer. "touch me?" he spanked you again. you let out a whine of frustration as he slid his dick through your folds. "what other answer is there?"
he leaned forward, sliding his dick through your folds slowly, chuckling when you let out a whine. you then felt another slap as he stilled. "still waiting on that answer kitten."
at this point, you were willing to never see maki again if it meant that he would stop teasing you. "anything. i won't even let him near me. just please fuck me."
you were reward when nicholas eased inside of you in one smooth thrust making your breath catch in your throat. you cry out at the feeling of him fully inside of you, not realizing how bad you wanted this. he lets out a small sound, leaning forward to kiss along your spine as you adjust to him.
"do you feel how well your pussy takes me, kitten? like she knew she is mine.
you whimper at his words, shifting your hips- silently begging him to move. he gets the message, tightly gripping your waist before he pulls almost completely out of you. he slams back into you full force, a choked moan coming out of you at his speed. if he didn't have such a good grip on you, you don't think you would be able to hold yourself up- even if you were pretty sure there were going to be bruises tomorrow.
"fuck nicho."
"does that feel good, kitten?"
you nod, face pressing into the bed as you moan his name. "s-so good."
"so fucking tight for me." he mumbles, moving to where he was hitting even deeper with every thrust. you gasp, squeezing around him when his fingers brush your clit. "so perfect, my little kitten, and all mine. isn't that right?"
"y-yes, nicho. yours."
"good girl." his fingers press harder on your clit, hips stuttering against yours. "now let me feel you come all over my, kitten."
you didn't even realize you were close until he say that- your orgasm shredding right through you at his words. your breath caught in your throat, body going tense at your third orgasm. he lets out a hiss as you squeeze around him, keeping you close to him as you feel him release inside of you. you let out a groan as he pulls out of you, helping you out of your position and laying you down.
"you did so good, kitten." his lips brush against your skin as he kisses your face, ending on your lips. "i didn't hurt you, did i?"
you shook your head, a small smile gracing your lips as you looked at him. "no, nicho. you didn't hurt me."
a yawn came out of your mouth, the exhaustion of your guys activities finally hitting you. nicholas leaned down, kissing your forehead.
"rest kitten. i'll take care of you."
you let out a soft groan, wiping the sleep from your eyes before blinking them open. you freeze, not recognizing the room you were in until it hit you.
you were in nicholas' room.
you never come in here. he's very particular about scents, so he doesn't let anyone else in here- not even you. but here you were, in his bed wearing his shirt.
you remember faintly nicholas cleaning you up after last night before the two of you left euijoo's house. you don't remember why though since the two of you were supposed to stay the night there, but you do remember nicholas hissing at maki as you left. apparently you fell asleep in the car, and he carried you up to his room.
you shift slightly, stopping when you feel an arm tighten around your waist. you turn to see nicholas tucked into your back- his breathing shallow as he sleeps next to you. he frowned when you shifted again causing his tail to wrap around your bare thigh.
you know neither maki or harua would let you live this down if they were right, but you feel like they were. there was no way he would've taken care of you while you were asleep. he would put you in his clothes which he's never done before and let you sleep in his bed. he wouldn't be wrapped around you like he didn't want you to leave. last night wasn't just about the sex.
but what if it was?
before you could go down that road, your bladder stopped you. you struggled, gently unwrapping his tail before sliding out from under his arm. you shifted to the end of the bed before sitting up, but before you could sit up, an arm wraps back around you, pulling you back to bed. you land back on the bed with a gasp before looking at nicholas who was now on top of you.
"where do you think you're going, kitten?"
you swallow, breath hitching when his nose brushes against yours. "i- um... bathroom."
"you sure about that?" he asks with a teasing smile at your stuttering. you say nothing but nod your head, watching as he moves to lay back on the bed. "use mine."
your eyes widen in shock, but you had to use the bathroom too bad to ask why. similar to his room, you never went into his bathroom. the first and last time you were in here was when you first moved in here. after you picked which room you wanted, nicholas picked the other one and asked you to not come in his room.
after you were done, you glance in the mirror as you wash your hands, expecting that you would look like a mess after last night. the smudged makeup you expected wasn't there, and your hair was freshly brushed and tangle free.
did nicholas do this?
you leave the bathroom somehow more confused that when you went in there. you look at the bed to see nicholas laying in bed with his back facing you. you thought he went back to sleep, so you went to leave the room when you heard him shift, rolling over before lifting up the blanket- silently calling you back to bed.
"did you take off my makeup?"
"yes. you hate sleeping in your makeup." he answered as you slipped back into bed. you lay on your back, looking up at the ceiling for a moment when you heard nicholas laugh. you look over to see him resting on his arm, looking down at you with an amused look. "what's wrong, kitten? you look nervous."
"i'm not nervous." you argue.
"then what are you?"
"confused." you answer, motioning around the room. "you've told me a hundred times to never come in your room, but here i am, in your room. in your bed after using your bathroom. not to mention i'm wearing your shirt."
nicholas shifts closer to you, fingers wrapping around your hand. "as my why i asked you to not come in here."
"why?" you ask, unsure if you wanted to hear the answer.
"i couldn't deal with your scent in here." he answered, watching as your brows furrow- sort of offended by that sentence. "i'm already tortured by your sweet scent everywhere else in this apartment. i needed somewhere safe, or i was going to do something crazy."
"crazy like?"
"last night." he said, looking up when you snatch your hand away from him. you look away but not quick enough for him to see you blink back tears as you try to get out of the bed.
"i knew it was just sex for you."
"hey." he grabbed your waist, stopping you from getting up. you struggled against him, trying to get his arm off you, but it was useless. you kept your back to him as he pulled you back to him. "it was not just sex for me."
"you just said it was crazy."
"i meant the part where i threw you over my should in the middle of a party. not the part where we had sex." he clarified making you look over at him. his hand left your waist when he knew you were going to try to leave and cup your cheek, wiping a few tears that had fallen away.
"so you don't regret it?"
"i would never regret that, kitten." he answered. "i wish our first time wouldn't have been in the middle of a party, but i don't regret it. nor would i change a thing. i meant everything that happened last night."
you nod your head, believing him. he smiled at you before leaning down and catching your lips with his. unlike last night, the kiss was soft and unrushed. you lift up your hand, brushing it along his fluffy cat ear. he pulls you closer to him before settling in between your legs. his tongue tangles with yours as his hands explored your body.
"you belong to me." nicholas whispers as he pulls away. his fingers grip your thigh, running over an old scar. "all your scars? mine." his hand trails further up your leg, a gasp coming out of your mouth when he cups your heat. "this pussy? mine." his hand continued to travel towards your chest, resting his hand in the center of your chest. "this heart? mine. just like mine belongs to you."
your eyes widened at his confession. "nicho-"
"i knew i was yours from the moment we met." he told you, brushing your hair behind your ears. "i'll never forget it. the way you looked at me with those wide eyes. i knew that i would do anything you asked me to just so i could stay by your side."
you felt like you were at a loss of words, hearing him say those things that you had always wanted him to say. your lips part to try to say something, but you stop when nicholas closes the distance between you. your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. he pulled away, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before the corner of your mouth and continuing down your jaw.
"the first thing i felt when i conjured you was fear." you mumble, smiling when he chuckles against your neck. "it wasn't because i was scared of you. i was scared of how you made me feel. i mean, what 16 year old girl falls in love with her hybrid familiar?"
you feel his lips stop kissing your neck when his words hit him. he pulls back, looking down at you. "please tell me you meant to say that."
"say what, nicho?" you ask, a teasing hint to your voice. a low whine slips past his lips at the teasing. "i wouldn't have said it if i didn't mean it."
"say it again."
"i love you, nicholas." as soon as the words leave your mouth, his lips pressed to yours.
"i love you." he mumbled against your lips as he pulled away. you let out a relieved breath that he felt the same. "i love you so much, kitten. seeing you with maki last night nearly killed me."
"so did me seeing you with sarah." you told him. you watched as his features turned to confusion.
"who's sarah?"
"the bitch you were with last night." you answered. "she was all over you."
you watch as nicholas smiled at you. you then realized the mistake of your words. "jealous, kitten?"
"i hate you." you grumble, upset you fell into his trap.
"no you don't." he smiled before kissing you. "you love me."
"i change my mind." you laugh as he gasps at you.
"take it back." you shake your head. you scream when his hands attack your sides. you try to move away from him, but his legs were trapping you.
"stop!"
"tell me you love me."
"i love you." his hands froze when the words left your lips. you gasp for air as he smiles down at you.
"sarah means nothing to me. i can't stand her." nicholas told you. "maki told me to let her flirt with me to see if you would get jealous, so i did. hated every second of it. then to top it off, when i looked at you, maki was kissing you."
"he asked me if i wanted to make you jealous." you tell him. "that's why he asked me to trust him. i really didn't think he would kiss me."
"idiot." nichiolas grumbled. you laugh at his pout, reaching up and kissing his pouting lips. he responded instantly, slightly groaning against your lips.
nicholas' hands traveled down your sides before slipping under your shirt. you sigh into the kiss as his hands explore your stomach before traveling to your chest. he squeezes your chest causing a moan to slip past your lips. you lift your hips, brushing your core against his already hard erection.
"you're not too sore, are you?" nicholas asked as he pulled away.
"no." you answered with a shake of your head. "please. i need you."
"fuck kitten." he groans before kissing you. his hands play with your nipples until you're moaning into his mouth. his lips leave yours before pulling up your shirt and attaching his lips to your breasts.
"nicho." you moan at the contact
his hand squeezes your other breast while his other travels to your underwear. he runs his finger along the lace of your underwear, smirking when you moan at the contact. "you're already soaked, kitten."
"please nicho."
his hand slips inside your underwear, smirking against your skin when he hears you beg him to keep going. you jerk in his arms when his fingers tease you before he eases one inside of you. he takes his time, allowing you to adjust before adding a second finger. you arch your chest into his mouth when he curls his fingers.
he speeds up, loving the moans that are coming out of your mouth for him. he looks up, seeing your eyes sealed shut as you lose yourself to the pleasure. he lifts away from your breast before moving back up your body. his lips press against yours, swallowing all of your sounds.
"god, you sound so pretty, kitten. i love how responsive you are for me." he praises. you squeeze around his fingers at the compliment. "does my girl like being praised?"
"nicho." you whine. "i- i'm close."
"i know, kitten." he curls his fingers again and again until you saw stars. you gripped onto his bare shoulder as he brought you to your climax. he kissed all over your face as you recovered. "you look so beautiful when you come, kitten."
you blush as you push him away. he laughs at your embarrassment before removing his fingers from your underwear. you watch him as he moves his hand to his mouth, sucking on his fingers that were just inside of you. he groans at the taste of you before pulling his fingers out of his mouth and replacing it with yours.
you kiss him back while your hands slip into his sweats. he jerks into your hand, moaning into your mouth when your hand wraps around him. you stroke him gently, feeling him relax at the feeling. soon, he pulls your hand away before stripping you out of your underwear. he slips his sweats down enough to get his dick out before looking at you.
"are you sure you're not too sore?" you shake your head at his question.
"i'm not." his hips roll against yours, rubbing his length through your folds. you moan as he does it again until you felt like you were going to explode. "nicho, please fuck me."
you heard him chuckle before easing into you. unlike last night, he takes his time, pausing when he feels you tighten around him. you grip onto his broad shoulders, loving the way that he fills you up. he fit against you perfectly when he was fully inside of you, forehead pressing against yours.
"i'm never going to get enough of you, kitten." nicholas says with a shallow roll of his hips, watching as you cling onto him. "not with the way this pretty pussy grips me. i can barely move."
he starts to move when you begged him too, slowly gaining speed until his hips snapped against yours. "fuck nicho... you feel so good."
he groans at your words, lips pressing to yours. you felt him shift above you before moving to wrap your legs around him. his hands were tight on your thighs, sure enough to leave even more bruising that you knew was already on your skin.
"my perfect little kitten." he let out a short grunt when he felt you squeeze around him- sounds escaping you with each thrust of his hips. "mine. only mine."
you yelp when his hand finds your clit, bringing you so close to the edge. "y-yours nicho."
"then let me feel you come all over me."
he felt you tremble beneath you as your orgasm hit you, legs tightening around him as you clenched around him. you could hear nicholas groan loudly, unable to hold himself back. his lips were on yours as he buried himself deep inside of you, hips jerking as he released inside of you.
his lips stay on yours as he collapses on top of you as the both of you recover from your highs. "you always do so good for me kitten. i'm never going to get tired of you."
"you promise?"
"i promise." you kiss him again at his promise. he kisses you back before slipping out of you. you groan into his mouth as he pulls away. "i'll be right back."
he gets off of you, fixing his sweats before disappearing into the bathroom. after a minute, he returns with a warm rag, cleaning you up before tucking you back in bed. he slides in beside you. you lift up your arm when he cuddles into you, resting his head on your chest as his legs tangle with yours. you stroke his hair. he relaxes into you, as you do him, but there was something missing.
"do the thing." you speak up.
"kitten-" nicholas groans, but you stop him.
"if you love me, you'll do it." you hear him let out a sigh of defeat. you smile when you hear the soft purring coming from him. you kiss his head. "i love you nicho."
written for the heart’s mailroom event ! ༊
𝓦𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐍⠀ ✶ ⠀ when park jongseong, campus heartthrob, resident rich kid, and future arranged marriage victim, offers you an absurd amount of money to be his fake girlfriend, saying yes should be easy. all you have to do is hold his hand, smile for his parents, survive the rumors, and pretend none of it is real. fake dating was never supposed to be difficult — so why does following the one rule feel impossible? don’t fall in love. simple enough, right?
𝟑𝟏𝟐𝟏𝟕 🗯️ ✽ ─── ⏾ 𝘂𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁 park jongseong⠀x ⠀ 𝓯 ! rea ´ ꒳ ` 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : fake dating ˒ university au ˒ slow burn ˒ mutual pining ˒ class differences ˒ friends-to-lovers ˒ emotional hurt and comfort ˒ a dash of angst somewhere ˒
𝔀𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : explicit sexual content ⋮ 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀, 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁 ✿ strong language ˒ emotional distress ˒ classism ˒ family conflict ˒ socioeconomic inequality ˒ mentions of financial struggles ˒ unprotected p in v ˒ first time sex ˒ dry humping ˒ fingering ˒ dirty talk ˒ creampie ˒
𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬⠀ ✶ ⠀ 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭
🗝️ 。 𝐞𝐥’𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 one of my favorite event works so far !!! yes, i do pour my heart out whenever it comes to a jay fic <//3 a month later and here we are ˙𐃷˙ clearly got lazy in a bunch of parts so oops, let’s ignore that
"Me? You? Us? Date? What the fuck are you on about?!"
Your voice rang out through the private library study space, bouncing off the cream-colored walls and the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that lined them.
The sound was sharp enough to make Jay flinch, just barely, a subtle jerk of his shoulders, but he didn't step back. He stood right where he was, planted across from you on the other side of the narrow study table, both his palms pressed flat against the polished wood surface, fingers splayed wide like he was bracing himself. Beside his right hand, just brushing against his pinky, sat a brown envelope, ordinary, unremarkable, the kind you'd use to mail documents or store receipts. Except it wasn't ordinary at all, and you both knew it.
You had already opened it. A few moments ago, when Jay had first slid it across the table toward you with a quiet, "Just look inside first," you'd given him a skeptical look, the same look you gave people who tried to cut the line at the campus café, and undone the metal clasp with one finger. The moment you peeled back the flap, your brain short-circuited. The envelope was filled with money. Not a few folded bills, not some chump-change twenties — filled, stuffed to the point where the paper bulged outward like it was struggling to contain what was inside. Bill after bill after bill, crisp and pressed together so tightly you could barely pry them apart with your fingertips. Your mouth had gone dry. You couldn't even count it properly mentally, not when your eyes were still trying to process the sheer volume of it. Four hundred dollars? Nine hundred? Maybe even a thousand? Every time you tried to land on a rough estimate, the number climbed higher, your mind fumbling with digits the way your hands fumbled with the bills. It was the first time in your life you'd seen so much money in one sitting, let alone held it, let alone had it sitting in front of you on a scratched-up library table like it was nothing.
"Please, Y/N—I swear it'll just be a quick one-time thing. You have to help me out," Jay said, and the desperation in his tone was so raw, so unguarded, that it almost caught you off guard. His voice dropped on the last sentence, going low and almost brittle, like the words themselves were fragile and he was afraid of crushing them. His eyes, dark brown, normally so composed and easy, were wide and searching, locked on yours with an intensity that made the air between you feel heavier.
You already knew it was absolute bullshit. The whole setup, the way he'd walked over to your usual study spot in the library's east wing where you always sat, third floor, back corner, the table beside the window that overlooked the quad, and hovered awkwardly by the empty chair across from you until you looked up from your notes. The way he'd said he had an important question to ask about a subject both of you shared, some elective you'd both wound up in because it fit your schedules. You'd told him to just ask right then and there, leaning back in your chair with your arms crossed because something about the way he was shifting his weight from foot to foot told you this wasn't about academics at all. He insisted on taking you to one of the private study rooms, the kind that required cash to book, the kind with a door you could lock and walls thick enough that sound didn't travel. You said no. Flat out, no, you had studying to do, you didn't have time for whatever cryptic thing he needed to say. He insisted again, his voice dropping lower, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in that restless way people do when they're wound tight. You said no a second time. He insisted a third, and by then a few passersby had slowed their pace, eyes sliding over to the two of you with that particular brand of campus curiosity, the kind that would be a rumor by dinner. You noticed the girl with the ponytail lingering near the shelf a few feet away, pretending to browse a book she was holding upside down. You noticed the guy at the next table suddenly very interested in his phone, which was facedown on the desk. You exhaled through your nose, muttered a curse under your breath, grabbed your bag, and followed Jay down the hall because the last thing you needed was an audience.
Yup, Jay — as in the Park Jongseong. People referred to him as Jay, and you never really knew the full reason as to why, but apparently it was his English name, one he'd had since childhood, and he preferred to be called that around university. He'd introduced himself that way on the first day of freshman orientation, and obviously, the student body didn't hesitate to comply. Jay was and still is the sheer epitome of the typical picture-perfect guy, the kind that seemed like he was drafted in a lab by someone trying to engineer the ideal male specimen. He was intelligent, effortlessly so, the kind of smart that didn't need to announce itself because it showed in the way he spoke, the way he could break down a complex concept in class without breaking a sweat, the way professors seemed to light up whenever he raised his hand. He came from an incredibly wealthy background — old money, the kind that didn't need to be flashy because it simply was, the kind that came with family estates and business empires and the quiet assurance that you'd never have to worry about a single thing in your life. He was the president of the music club, the lead guitarist of the university's band, and as if all of that wasn't enough, the campus heartthrob, a title he hadn't asked for but couldn't seem to shake off.
Every single girl was head over heels for him. That wasn't an exaggeration, it was a documented, observable, almost scientific phenomenon. You could swear you'd overheard your block mate laugh about how during one Valentine's Day, he was hiding in the music room for a whole day because people wouldn't stop chasing after him, shoving gifts and confessions and handwritten letters through the door crack until the floor looked like a paper avalanche. Another girl in your dorm had a Pinterest board dedicated to him, screenshots from his Instagram, candid photos people had taken during his performances, even a blurry shot of him eating at the cafeteria that she treated like some kind of holy relic. It was unhinged. It was also, admittedly, understandable.
Which is why it came to you as a surprise — no, not a surprise, a shock, a full-body, brain-stalling, what-the-fuck-is-happening shock — that he'd dragged your ass to a secluded, cash-only private study room on one breezy Tuesday afternoon with an envelope filled to the brim with cash, set it on the table between you, and asked if you could fake-date him.
You? Jay? Date? It had never crossed your mind. Not once. Not even in some passing, idle thought, the kind your brain produces at two in the morning when you're half-asleep and thinking about nothing in particular. Sure, he's attractive, anyone with functioning eyes could see that, the sharp jawline, the dark hair that always looked effortlessly styled even when he'd just woken up, the way his whole face seemed to carry this natural, easy confidence like he'd never had to second-guess a single thing about himself. But he was way out of your league, and more than that, you both never really batted an eye at each other. You existed in the same spaces, the same lecture halls, the same campus walkways, the same cafeteria, but you moved in entirely different orbits. Just so happened that both of you had taken up the same course, and even then, your interactions had been limited to the occasional "can I borrow a pen" or "did you catch what the professor said about the deadline." Nothing more. Nothing less. Two people who happened to share a lecture room and nothing else.
"Come on, cut me some slack. The girl your parents are arranging for you to marry can't be that bad," you had said, leaning back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to sound casual even though your heart was still doing something strange and irregular from the sheer absurdity of this conversation.
"She is!"
"Show me a picture."
Jay let out an exhale, long, heavy, the kind that seemed to carry the weight of several sleepless nights, before fishing his phone from the pocket of his jacket. He unlocked it, his thumb moving quickly across the screen, scrolling through what looked like his mom's messages, then his DMs, his brow furrowed in concentration as he searched for a specific photo. You watched his face as he scrolled, the tightness in his jaw, the slight downward pull of his lips, and for a moment, the campus heartthrob facade fell away entirely, and he just looked like a guy who was stressed out of his mind. Then he found it, turned the phone toward you, and held it there.
You looked. You leaned in. Your eyes traveled across the screen, the girl in the photo was striking, genuinely stunning, the kind of beautiful that made you do a double-take. She had this effortless elegance about her, dressed in something that probably cost more than your entire semester's textbook budget, standing in what appeared to be the foyer of a home that looked like it belonged in an architecture magazine. Flawless. Immaculate. The type of person who looked like she'd never had a bad day in her life.
"Ooooh, she's bad as hell," you smiled — and you meant it, because damn, she really was, and you weren't about to pretend otherwise just to make Jay feel better about his predicament.
A beat. Jay looked at you dead in the eyes, his expression utterly flat, a picture of pure, unamused disbelief. And you just smiled back at him, wide, toothy, completely genuine, the kind of smile that said I know this isn't helping but I'm being honest here.
"Alright, that's enough! That's not the point, my point is I don't want to get married—"
"Then just tell your parents you're not yet ready, as simple as that." You cut him off, waving your hand like you were swatting away a fly. "Sit them down, look them in the eye, say 'hey, I'm twenty-something, I'm not doing this right now,' and call it a day."
"Fuck, I've tried and tried and tried, but they won't budge on their decision." Jay's voice cracked on the last word, just barely, a hairline fracture in his composure that he quickly sealed shut by pressing his lips together and looking away for a second. When he looked back, his eyes were harder, more urgent. "I'm way too young to be marrying at this age. Sure, some people our age are married, but I'm not them and they're not me! I have things I want to do, things I actually want, and being tied down to someone I didn't even choose isn't one of them." His hands curled into fists on the table, knuckles going pale. "Please, Y/N, just—this one big favor. This and nothing more, I'm begging."
He was begging. Park Jongseong, the guy who had the entire campus at his feet, was standing across from you in a dimly lit study room practically pleading with you like his life depended on it. And the worst part, the part that made your chest tighten slightly, the part that made your arms uncross and fall to your sides, was that it was real. You could see it in every line of his body, hear it in every syllable he pushed out. He wasn't being dramatic. He wasn't putting on a show. He was genuinely, desperately, sincerely asking you for help, and the vulnerability of it was staggering.
You had to admit, with his level of desperation, you were starting to feel real bad. You'd never seen someone be this desperate — not around you, not in your presence, not directed at you. Even your ex hadn't been this desperate for you, and they'd had actual reasons to be. This was the campus heartthrob, a guy who could snap his fingers and have a line of volunteers stretching from the library to the campus gates, and here he was, choosing you, asking you, practically on his knees in front of you. It didn't make sense. None of this made sense.
"I'm sorry you have to go through this, but no is no. That's final on my end." You said it as firmly as you could, chin lifted, voice steady. You meant it, or at least, you wanted to mean it, you were trying to mean it, because the logical part of your brain was screaming at you that this was insane, that fake-dating Jay was a terrible idea, that nothing good could come from entangling yourself in the mess of someone else's life, no matter how much money was in that envelope.
"Oh my god, please, I'll do anything, I'll even add more money to the—"
Money? Money.
Yup, as in the brown envelope filled with money. The envelope that was still sitting on the table between you, its mouth open, its contents spilling slightly outward, bills catching the overhead light. The first time you'd seen it, when Jay had first pushed it toward you, you thought he was going to bribe his way through you to get a yes, just straight-up purchase your agreement like you were a transaction, like your consent was a commodity he could afford. The thought had made your stomach turn. But then he'd clarified, hastily, almost tripping over his own words in his rush to explain, he'd just taken some money out of his card, he said, and to see it as a thank-you if ever. A gesture. No strings. No pressure. Just — here, this is what I can offer, if you're willing.
What an arrogant bitch, using daddy's money to get what he wanted. The thought surfaced sharp and bitter, and you let it sit there for a second, let yourself feel the sting of it, the unfairness, the casual way he could just produce this kind of cash like it was pocket change, like it was nothing, like it was the equivalent of buying someone a coffee. Though, you knew, and this was the part that made the thought dissolve as quickly as it had come — you knew you couldn't resist that much money. You couldn't. You were physically, financially, realistically incapable of turning away from what that envelope represented.
Truth is, in this prestigious university filled with students who spent their weekends drinking on yachts and flying home for holidays like commuting was a personality trait, you're the elephant in the room. The odd one out. The one who didn't belong, not because you weren't smart enough, not because you hadn't earned your place, but because you existed in a world that operated on an entirely different currency than the one everyone else was spending. You came from a less fortunate background compared to everyone here, and that was putting it gently. Your hometown was the kind of place people drove through without stopping, the kind of place where the biggest employer was the gas station on the highway and the most exciting thing that happened all year was the county fair. For your whole life, all you could do was study. That was it. That was the one lane you had, the one road available to you, and you ran it like your life depended on it — because it did. Get amazing marks, get recognized enough to be able to get somewhere nice in life, somewhere better, somewhere that didn't feel like a dead end with a nice view of nothing. All that effort paid off in the end, because here you were — admitted to this prestigious university, the kind with the manicured lawns, the stone buildings, and the reputation that opened doors before you even knocked, far from home, with a full 100% scholarship. Every penny covered. Tuition, housing, the works.
You didn't even know this was possible. When the acceptance letter came, when you'd read the words “full scholarship” and felt the ground tilt beneath you, you'd sat on the floor of your bedroom for ten minutes just breathing, because your brain couldn't process anything beyond the fact that something had finally, finally gone right. You were beyond thankful. You still were. Every single day you woke up in that dorm room, you felt it, the gratitude, the disbelief, the quiet, stubborn resolve to not waste a single second of this opportunity.
But gratitude didn't pay for groceries. And a full scholarship didn't cover the things that fell through the cracks, the meals you skipped because the dining hall was closed and the nearest affordable option was a twenty-minute walk off campus, the school supplies that weren't included in the textbook package, the toiletries and the laundry detergent and the occasional cup of coffee that kept you awake during exam week. So now, with Jay offering you an insane amount of money, more than your parents could scrape up for months of careful, pinching saving, more than you'd earn in an entire semester of your part-time job, just to be his fake girlfriend? You couldn't possibly resist. You were already somewhat struggling to keep up, the kind of struggling that was invisible to everyone around you because you'd gotten so good at making it look effortless. You worked part-time as a lab instructor in another department of the university — setting up equipment, walking students through procedures, cleaning up after sessions — and while the pay was something, it wasn't enough to breathe easy. You saved up quite frequently, hoarding every extra cent like a dragon guarding its treasure, to the point where you'd forget to eat at times because the cafeteria line was long and the off-campus options cost money and you'd already convinced yourself that skipping one meal wasn't that big of a deal. You were literally living in the damn trenches, grinding yourself down to the bone in an environment where the person sitting next to you in lecture was complaining about their dad's yacht needing repairs.
He was still yapping about whatever, something about how his parents were persistent, how the arrangement had been in the works for months, how he'd tried every angle he could think of and this was the only option left, when you'd finally snapped back to reality, the sound of his voice dissolving into white noise as your brain latched onto the single, crystalline truth sitting in front of you: that envelope, that money, that lifeline.
"Deal." You said it with your face blank. No smile, no hesitation, no dramatic pause. Just the word, clean and final, dropped onto the table between you like a card laid face-up.
You saw Jay's face change instantly — like a switch had been flipped, like sunlight breaking through clouds. His eyes went wide, his mouth fell open, and then the most genuine smile you'd ever seen on another human being spread across his face, so bright and so unguarded that it almost looked out of place on someone you'd only ever seen looking composed and cool and collected.
"Oh my god really? Thank you, thank you so much, oh my god—" The words tumbled out of him in a rush, his voice climbing higher with each one, his hands coming off the table to gesture wildly in the air like he didn't know what to do with them. He looked, for a moment, like a kid who'd just been told he could have dessert before dinner, pure, unfiltered relief flooding every feature, softening every sharp edge you'd ever associated with him.
"Yeah, yeah, calm down before I change my mind." You retorted, but you were clearly amused at his enthusiasm, the corner of your mouth twitching despite your best effort to keep your expression neutral. There was something almost endearing about watching Jay, the campus heartthrob, the cool guy, the one everyone wanted, practically vibrate with gratitude right in front of you. It was humanizing in a way you hadn't expected.
"Yes, ma'am." He said it with a nod, still grinning, and there was something in the way he said it, the slight dip of his head, the warmth in his voice, that made your chest do that strange, irregular thing again.
So then there you and Jay were, officially "boyfriend and girlfriend." Just like that, in a dimly lit private study room that smelled like old paper and lemon-scented wood cleaner, with a brown envelope full of cash sitting between you and the campus heartthrob beaming at you like you'd just handed him the world. You never knew up until when the act would last, though — just be convincing for as long as possible, up to the point when Jay says it's over, he's free, and both of you could just go back to the way things were. Two people who happened to share a classroom and nothing else, the way it was always meant to be.
At least, that was the plan.
The first week of "dating" was surprisingly easy.
Though, at that point of the week, nothing significant had happened yet. You guys were still somewhat awkward about the whole ordeal, like two people who'd signed a contract to perform in a play but hadn't yet rehearsed their scenes. No crazy public interactions, no dramatic cafeteria entrances, no hand-holding across the courtyard for all to see. You guys never even texted, not really, not in the way actual couples texted, with that constant low hum of conversation that never really stopped. Maybe you'd send Jay a horrendous reel about some funny skit, the kind that made you snort quietly to yourself in your dorm room at midnight, and caption it with something like "this is how i saw you in that study space" and he'd either just react with a haha emoji or reply with a laugh or be sassy in return, firing back with a reel of his own that somehow managed to be even more unhinged than yours. Sometimes he'd message you about an assignment assigned to a shared class, dry, practical stuff, "did prof say apa or mla" or "is the thing due friday or saturday,” the kind of texts that could've been sent to anyone, that carried no weight, that left no residue once they were answered. Just that, nothing more. Simple day-to-day interactions, the bare minimum of communication required to maintain the illusion that two people were in any kind of relationship at all. Honestly, you guys only interacted when you'd remember, perhaps like once every two days, maybe even less, the rhythm of it irregular and loose, like a heartbeat that kept skipping. Ya'll didn't even acknowledge each other in public. Not a wave, not a nod, not so much as a glance across a lecture hall. You'd walk past each other between classes with the same neutral, unseeing expression you'd give a stranger on the sidewalk, and it was fine, it was easier that way, simpler, less to explain, less to perform. The fake in fake-dating had never felt so appropriate.
The second week was when things had gotten a bit strange.
It was a regular Thursday afternoon, the kind of Thursday that felt like it had been stretching on for about six business days already, the kind where the week's exhaustion had settled into your bones like damp cold and you could practically feel your brain running on fumes. You were in the lab, packing up your things because your shift had finally finished — the last student had left twenty minutes ago, the equipment was wiped down and stored, the logbook was updated, and the only thing left to do was zip your bag and drag yourself back to the dorm for whatever sad dinner awaited. You were slipping your charger into the front pocket of your bag when your phone lit up on the counter, the screen glowing with a message notification.
Jongseong [6:13 PM]: hi! :) are you free right now?
Yeah, your contact name for him was Jongseong. Not Jay. Not "bf 💕" or whatever the hell a real girlfriend would save her boyfriend's name as. Jongseong. His Korean name, the one he didn't go by, the one most people on campus didn't even know. He didn't know you'd saved him that way, and he definitely didn't need to know. It just served as a little reminder, a quiet, private, almost superstitious reminder, that this whole thing was meant to be some stupid thing, some arrangement, some transaction dressed up in the costume of a relationship. You didn't know how exactly it'd help, calling him by a name he didn't use, keeping that tiny sliver of distance preserved in your phone's contacts list, but that's what you told yourself, and that was enough.
You stared at the message for a bit, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. What the hell could he possibly want now? You thought, your brow furrowing slightly. It had been days since your last actual exchange, a reel about a cat falling off a counter, three days ago, to which he'd responded with a skull emoji. And now, out of nowhere, on a random Thursday evening, a cheerful "hi! :)" and a question about your availability like you were being summoned for a meeting. You typed back a while later, after you'd zipped your bag and slung it onto your shoulder.
You [6:15 PM]: why? i'm at the lab rn
He saw the text almost immediately, the read receipt appeared within seconds, which told you he'd been staring at his phone waiting for your reply, which was somehow both endearing and mildly concerning.
Jongseong [6:15 PM]: oooh okay
Jongseong [6:15 PM]: do you wanna head out to this
Jongseong [6:15 PM]: new retro themed diner that opened up? 😅 it's a bit far from the university though, but i can drive you back and forth
Diner? Eat out? Goodness, you couldn't even afford to buy dinner on some days, and he was asking you to go to some trendy new spot that probably charged eighteen dollars for a milkshake and had a waitlist longer than the financial aid office. The thought alone made your wallet ache in sympathy.
I mean, you did have money, the one Jay had given you in that envelope, the one that was currently tucked inside the zippered pocket of your bag, still as full as the day he'd handed it to you. But you couldn't bring yourself to spend it yet. Not even for something this small, not even for a meal that your growling stomach was practically begging for. You had more priorities, bigger ones, heavier ones, the kind that didn't go away just because you were hungry. Sending some money back to your parents, for one, you'd already calculated how much you could afford to send without destabilizing your own fragile ecosystem, and the number was pitifully small but it was something, it was the least you could do when your mom and dad were back home stretching every paycheck until it tore. Your needs, too, the things that kept you functional, the toothpaste and the laundry soap and the replacement headphones because your current pair was held together with electrical tape and prayer. All the works. Every dollar in that envelope was already earmarked for something, already spoken for in the mental ledger you maintained with the obsessive precision of an accountant during tax season.
You [6:16 PM]: dude
You [6:16 PM]: i'd love to but i have no money
Jongseong [6:16 PM]: the envelope?
You [6:17 PM]: can't bring myself to spend it yet jay 🥲 i have lots of things i need to prioritize rather than some dinner
Jongseong [6:17 PM]: i understand
Jongseong [6:17 PM]: dinner's on me ☺️ i'll pick you up from the lab in a bit
Jongseong [6:17 PM]: just gonna grab my keys
Oh my god, this guy. You stared at your phone screen, your mouth slightly open, that familiar mixture of disbelief and reluctant warmth spreading through your chest. He'd just — announced it. Like it was obvious, like it was already decided, like your financial situation was a minor obstacle he could simply breeze past with the casual ease of someone who'd never had to think about the price of anything in his entire life. And the smiley face. The little ☺️ at the end of the message, so completely without guile, like he genuinely didn't see the big deal about paying for your dinner. You didn't know whether to be grateful or annoyed, so you settled for a weird combination of both that manifested as you pressing your palm against your forehead and exhaling slowly.
You [6:17 PM]: wait wait ok but what are we even gonna do at the diner
Jongseong [6:17 PM]: eat?
You [6:17 PM]: yeah what else 🫠 no way you're just doing this without some explanation
Jongseong [6:17 PM]: i'm just being a nice boyfriend, no?
Jongseong [6:17 PM]: but yes lol i have something i want to talk to you about
Something he wanted to talk about. That was vaguely ominous, or maybe it wasn't, maybe it was exactly what he said it was, a conversation, a discussion, something practical and straightforward. But the phrase "something I want to talk to you about" had a certain weight to it, the way phrases that start with "we need to talk" or "can I tell you something" always carried more gravity than their individual words suggested.
You [6:17 PM]: can't we just… do this over the phone?
He didn't answer. You stood there for a minute, your phone held loosely in your hand, waiting for the three dots to appear, waiting for the typing indicator, waiting for anything. None. The screen stayed still, the conversation hanging on your last message like an unanswered question mark. So you just continued on with your business, packing the rest of your things, double-checking that nothing was still plugged into the electrical sockets, a habit you'd developed after nearly starting a small fire during your first week on the job, closing the lights off in some areas. Then your phone vibrated in your hand, a sharp little pulse against your palm.
Jongseong [6:23 PM]: look at the door
You did. And there he was.
The lab doors were those awkward ones, the ones with a rectangular window set into the middle of the door, like a porthole, the glass slightly frosted but not enough to obscure whoever was standing on the other side. And Jay was right there, visible through that window, his face backlit by the hallway's amber light. He was tapping on the glass with his knuckles, waving at you with his other hand, and wearing this boyish smile, this wide, slightly crooked, utterly disarming smile, that made him look about five years younger and infinitely less like the campus heartthrob and more like some eager puppy that had shown up at your door expecting a walk.
You let out an exhausted exhale, the one that came from deep in your lungs and carried with it every ounce of resistance you'd been trying to maintain. And you flipped him off, just raised your middle finger casually, without heat, the way you'd flip off a friend who was being annoying but not annoying enough to actually be mad at. He just smiled wider, his eyes crinkling at the corners, clearly unfazed, then reached for the door handle, pushed it open, and walked in.
"Still busy?" he asked, his voice easy, light, like he hadn't just driven across campus to show up unannounced at your workplace like some kind of determined golden retriever.
"No, I'm done with everything already. Just—checking up on some things." You said, gesturing vaguely around the lab, your tone carrying that tired-but-not-unfriendly edge that had become your default around him.
"I'll help you," he muttered, already moving past you into the lab, his eyes scanning the room with a quick efficiency that surprised you. "It's getting dark already. We should get going before some ghost clings onto my girlfriend."
The word "girlfriend" hit you like a small, unexpected electric shock, a quick jolt that started in your stomach and radiated outward, making your fingers tingle and your breath catch for just a fraction of a second. A knot twisted in your stomach, tight and warm and deeply confusing, the kind of physical reaction you had zero authority over and absolutely no interest in analyzing. It was the first time he'd said it out loud, at least to your face, in a context that wasn't part of some rehearsed pitch, just dropped it into conversation like it was natural. You didn't even have the time to argue with him, to protest, to say don't call me that, it's weird, because he'd already started venturing through the lab, checking the sinks, unplugging a device you'd missed, verifying that the gas valves were shut off, his movements quick and competent and entirely too helpful for someone who'd probably never set foot in a science lab before today. You had just watched him, watched the way he moved through the space with an easy confidence, the way his sleeves were pushed up to his forearms revealing the subtle curve of muscle and the glint of a watch that probably cost more than your entire semester's living expenses, the way he double-checked things without being asked, the way he just helped, simply and without fanfare. When he was finally done, he walked back over to you, reached out, and pulled you gently by your wrist — not grabbing, not yanking, just a warm, steady pressure around your wrist that guided you forward, his fingers fitting loosely around the bone like a bracelet. With his other hand, he scooped your shoulder bag off the table where it had been sitting, slinging it over his own shoulder without a word, and then he looked at you.
"Ready? Didn't leave anything?" he asked gently, and the softness in his voice. the genuine, unhurried concern in it, made something in your chest shift, a tiny tectonic movement, barely perceptible but undeniable.
You looked at the table, then around you at the dim lab, then at him — at his face, at the way the hallway light caught the slope of his nose and the dark of his eyes, at the way he was standing there with your bag on his shoulder. "Nope, didn't leave anything." You said, and your voice came out quieter than you intended.
A smile tugged at his lips, small, warm, barely there but unmistakable, before he walked you out of the lab, his hand dropping from your wrist but the ghost of his touch lingering on your skin like a fading warmth you couldn't quite shake.
The diner was incredibly cute, wait, cute wouldn't even be able to do it justice. It was charming in the way that places only existed in movies or in the carefully curated feeds of lifestyle influencers, the kind of spot that seemed almost aggressively aesthetic, like it had been designed in a boardroom by someone with a Pinterest board titled "i miss being a kid" and an unlimited budget. Red vinyl booths with chrome trim, black-and-white checkered floors, vintage neon signs spelling out words like "EATS" and "SHAKES" in glowing pink cursive along the walls, a jukebox in the corner that actually played real records, its arm moving mechanically from song to song while a warm, crackling version of some fifties doo-wop track drifted through the speakers. There were framed posters of old films, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Rebel Without a Cause, Grease, and the air smelled like frying batter, vanilla, and that particular, indescribable scent of a place that took its desserts seriously. It looked exactly like how those influencers would post about, all warm lighting and curated messiness, exactly like how the social media pages would market it, except somehow better.
He chose to sit beside you. Which was — okay, crazy, genuinely unhinged behavior, because you guys were seated at a dining booth. The classic kind, the one with two seats facing each other, a table in the middle, the configuration designed so that two people could sit across from each other and have a face-to-face conversation like normal human beings. But no. Jay wanted to sit beside you. On the same side of the booth. Like an actual couple. Like people who wanted to share the same view, the same space, the same pocket of air. You didn't argue, you couldn't, actually, because by the time your brain had processed the audacity of his choice, he'd already slid into the seat next to yours, settling in with an easy sigh and draping one arm along the back of the booth behind you, not quite touching your shoulders but close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his arm like a space heater you hadn't asked for. The proximity was ridiculous. Your knees were inches from his. You could smell his cologne, something clean and faintly expensive, the kind of scent that probably had a French name and a price tag with too many zeros. You stared straight ahead at the empty seat across from you, hyperaware of every inch of space between your body and his, which wasn't very many inches at all.
He had told you, repeatedly on the drive over, in between navigating the streets and fiddling with the radio and making small talk about the weird billboard they'd passed, that he'd be the one paying, so don't hesitate to order anything you wanted to eat. He'd said it casually, like he was reminding you about the weather, like dropping forty or fifty or a hundred dollars on dinner was the equivalent of swiping a metro card. But that was hard on its own, wasn't it? You were used to the idea that whenever someone chipped in some of their money to buy you stuff, a meal, a drink, a ticket, you'd purposely pick one of the cheapest options so it wouldn't break a hole in their wallet. It was instinct, deeply ingrained, the kind of reflex you'd developed over years of being the person who couldn't afford to be treated and didn't want to be a burden. You'd scan the menu from the bottom up, looking for the lowest number, and you'd convince yourself that the cheapest thing was the thing you wanted anyway. But Jay wasn't having it. He insisted you get something that you actually wanted to try and eat, anything, desserts and drinks too, and he clearly wasn't in the mood to tolerate your bullshit.
"Jay, wait, I'm deadass. This one is pretty okay for me already—" You pointed at one of the cheaper items on the menu, a simple chicken sandwich that was reasonably priced and wouldn't make you feel like you were eating someone's weekly grocery budget.
"Pretty okay? Not the one that's 'I'd love this?' Come on, don't worry about the money please, don't worry about my money, just pick something you want to eat—" His voice was earnest, almost pleading, and he leaned slightly closer, his shoulder brushing yours, the contact light and brief but enough to make your breath hiccup.
"That is okay!"
"Okay doesn't necessarily mean that's what you want!" He shot back, and there was a frustrated edge to his tone — not anger, not even close, but something softer, something that sounded like he genuinely cared about whether you were settling for something instead of choosing something, as if the distinction between okay and I want this mattered to him more than the money it cost.
You both had spent about five minutes going back and forth over the menu, a delicate, ridiculous tug-of-war that probably looked insane from the outside. The waiter sitting by the table even seemed amused, their pen hovering over their notepad, watching the two of you bicker like an old married couple over whether you were allowed to order the thing you actually wanted. You eventually just gave up, the exhaustion of arguing with someone who had infinite money and infinite stubbornness was too much for your tired, post-shift brain, and settled for this incredibly gigantic cheeseburger with wedges on the side and a vanilla milkshake because Jay had insisted, pointing at it on the menu and telling the waiter before you could protest one last time. You couldn't even catch wind of what he'd ordered for himself, he'd rattled it off so quickly and smoothly that by the time you registered he'd stopped talking, the waiter was already walking away with a knowing smile.
When all you guys had to do was wait for your order, you leaned back in the booth, as much as the vinyl seat would allow, which wasn't much, not when Jay's arm was still draped along the back of it behind you, and started to speak.
"So, what thing did you want to talk to me about?" You said, turning your head toward him, and the motion brought your face closer to his than you'd anticipated, close enough that you could see the faint freckle below his left eye, close enough that you could count his eyelashes if you were the kind of person who counted things like that, which you absolutely were not.
"Oh my god, right. So, I kind of—I wanted to talk about the boundaries we should establish for this whole fake relationship thing." He said, and his tone shifted, still casual, still easy, but there was a note of seriousness underneath it.
Boundaries? For this fake relationship? You thought it was pretty self-explanatory already — the basic don't-fall-in-love type shit, the obvious don't-catch-feelings clause that went without saying, the unspoken agreement that this was a transaction and not a romance. But he wanted more depth, more clarity, more than the envelope and the unspoken assumptions that had carried you through the first week.
You both then spent a long time talking about the do's and don'ts. Even after your food had arrived, the cheeseburger towering on the plate like a small architectural marvel, the wedges golden and steaming, the milkshake thick and cold in its metal cup with the extra in the mixing tin beside it, both of you were still at it, the conversation flowing around bites and sips and the occasional pause to chew.
"No weird couple shit." You insisted, pointing a wedge at him for emphasis, a golden spear of potato that served as your gavel.
"What do you mean no weird couple shit? It has to be convincing!" He argued, leaning forward, his eyebrows raised in that way that said he thought you were being ridiculous, and the motion brought his shoulder pressing lightly against yours again, the warmth of it seeping through the fabric of your jacket.
"Yeah—but there are certain things we can do to make it convincing that doesn't involve doing weird stuff!" You shot back, and you could hear how unconvincing your own argument sounded, the vagueness of "weird stuff" hanging in the air between you like a question mark.
He raised his brow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in that particular way that meant he was about to challenge you and he was already enjoying it. "Define weird for me then."
You did. No matching anything, no matching outfits, no matching phone cases, no matching profile pictures like those couples who treated their social media accounts as a joint enterprise. No pet names — absolutely no "babe" or "baby" or "honey" or any of those saccharine, tooth-rotting terms of endearment that real couples used like breathing. No holding hands unnecessarily, no leaning into each other for photos, no excessive physical contact beyond what was strictly required to sell the illusion. The works. You laid it all out like a lawyer presenting terms, and that only earned you another argument from Jay, who countered every single point with the kind of rhetorical precision that made you suspect he'd been on the debate team in high school. No matching? Then how would people know we're together? No pet names? What do you want me to call you in public, "my esteemed colleague"? No hand-holding? Then what do we do when someone's watching, stand six feet apart like we're at a COVID checkpoint?
You must admit, arguing with Jay was funny. Not frustrating-funny, not the kind of funny that makes you want to throw something. Actually, genuinely funny, the kind that makes your cheeks hurt from trying not to smile. He simply wouldn't back down on his argument, even if you'd already found five different loopholes in his logic, he'd manage to find another loophole to swing past through, pivoting and redirecting with the nimbleness of someone who was used to getting his way but was having too much fun trying to get it to just give up. His eyes would light up when he thought he'd cornered you, and then they'd narrow playfully when you'd slip out of his trap, and the whole thing felt less like a negotiation and more like a game, a game where nobody was keeping score and the point wasn't winning but just the pleasure of playing. You don't even remember where the debate had ended, it just started with you taking a potato wedge, he took a bite from his eggs and bacon, and eventually you both just started eating, the arguments dissolving into the rhythm of the meal, forks and voices rising and falling in alternating turns until the conversation had drifted so far from its original shore that you couldn't even see the starting point anymore. It strayed off somewhere, from favorite childhood memories (his involved a summer in his grandparents' countryside home, catching dragonflies by the creek; yours involved the single year your town had a carnival and you'd won a goldfish that lived for three miraculous days) to a professor Jay absolutely despised (a man whose grading system seemed to operate on spite and a coin flip) to a weird urban legend that had been circulating in the university since its foundation (something about a ghost in the old humanities building who only appeared during finals week, which, honestly, made sense because who wouldn't be haunted by the ghost of failed exams). And through all of it, you were aware, vaguely, persistently, like a low hum in the background, of how close he was. The heat of his arm behind you. The way his knee would occasionally brush against yours under the table and neither of you moved away. The way he'd turn toward you when he laughed and his shoulder would press into yours and it felt like something you didn't have a name for, something you weren't supposed to be cataloguing.
You thought you were done. Both of you were done, your plates were empty, the milkshake was nothing but residue and melting ice, the conversation had reached that natural lull that signaled it was time to go, time to head back to the dorms, time to put this strange, unexpectedly pleasant evening to bed. You were reaching for your bag when an unusually large banana split arrived at the table, a towering monument of ice cream and fruit and whipped cream and chocolate sauce, served in one of those long, boat-shaped glass dishes that seemed designed to be shared. It came with two spoons, placed neatly on either side, a quiet invitation. Jay took one spoon for himself, offered the other one to you, handle-first, and told you to eat.
You opened your mouth to talk more, to say you were full, to say you couldn't possibly, to deploy any of the dozen polite refusals you kept on standby for moments like this. He said he couldn't finish it alone, which was probably true, the thing was obscene, a three-scoop sundae with enough toppings to feed a small party, and you argued you were full, which was also true, your stomach was at capacity and your cheeseburger was sitting like a contented stone in your abdomen. And he just — shut you up. Reached over, took the spoon right out of your hand, your fingers stuttering on the cold metal as he plucked it away, took a scoop of the vanilla ice cream drizzled with chocolate syrup and rainbow sprinkles, and shoved it in your mouth. Just like that. No warning, no ceremony, just the cold press of metal against your lips and then the sweetness flooding your tongue, vanilla and chocolate and the crunch of sprinkles, so sudden and so unexpected that you made a small sound of surprise, something between a yelp and a laugh, and your eyes went wide and Jay was grinning at you, grinning like he'd just won a prize, grinning like this was the most fun he'd had all week, and you couldn't be mad, you couldn't even pretend to be mad, because the ice cream was good and his smile was ridiculous and somehow, impossibly, this was your life now.
You both bickered even more after that, but this time, laughing and giggling, the kind of laughing that's hard to do with a mouth full of ice cream, the kind that makes you snort and almost choke and reach for a napkin while the other person just laughs harder at your suffering. The banana split was a mess within minutes, the neat architecture of scoops and toppings collapsing into a delicious, chaotic swirl as you both dug in from opposite ends, occasionally fighting over the same cherry, occasionally stealing the best bite from the other's side of the dish with zero remorse. The head chef, all the way from the kitchen, poked his head through the service window and was smiling at you both, this warm, knowing smile, the kind that said he'd seen a thousand couples share a banana split and knew exactly what he was looking at, even if you didn't.
Yet.
By the sixth week, that's when things got absolutely insane.
For the third week, you'd walk with Jay from one class to the other, not deliberately, not in some rehearsed couple-y way, just naturally, the way two people do when their schedules happen to overlap and the route to the next building is the same. Except it wasn't just the same route, because you'd find yourself slightly altering your path to match his, and he'd slow his pace without mentioning it, and somewhere between the science building and the humanities wing, your strides had synchronized without either of you acknowledging it. Totally not disappearing from your friends and the next time they'd see you was with Jay, walking beside him, your shoulder almost level with his, laughing at something he'd said about the professor's tie, while your friends stared from across the courtyard like you'd grown a second head.
Of course, some people caught wind of it and you'd heard some allegations being thrown at the both of you, whispers in the hallways, the kind that traveled fast and loose through a campus where everyone's business was everyone's entertainment. But since walking with someone from the opposite gender is completely normal, a lot of people brushed it off as the two of you being friends. Study buddies. Classmates who happened to share the same route. Nothing to write home about.
For the fourth week, a group of guys from the basketball team saw you and Jay studying together in the library. Of course, Jay wanted to get to know you more — more to the point he'd at least have something to say about you if someone asked, something beyond "she's in my class" or "we share a course," something that sounded like what a real boyfriend would know. Your favorite coffee order. The class you hated most. The way you tapped your pen against your notebook when you were thinking. He'd ask questions casually, sprinkled between textbook chapters, and you'd answer just as casually, and somewhere in the middle of explaining why you couldn't stand the smell of peppermint, you'd realize you'd been talking for an hour and neither of you had turned a page. You let him in, gradually, and he let you in too, small facts at first, then bigger ones, the kind of disclosures that built a portrait of a person stroke by stroke. Occasionally, he'd drag you back into the secluded study spaces if you mentioned, in passing, that the library was too noisy, "come on, I know a spot," he'd say, and you'd follow him down the familiar hallway to the same cash-only rooms where this whole thing started, except now the door stayed unlocked, the envelope nowhere in sight, and it just felt like two people who wanted to hear each other without the static of the world layered on top. The basketball guys obviously didn't care — one of them nodded at Jay on the way out, that was the extent of it. But the people at the tables nearby did, their heads turning as you disappeared behind a closed door. Both of you didn't really care.
For the fifth week, a professor that absolutely adored you both for being incredibly attentive in her class, she'd called you two her "favorite students" more than once, half-joking and half-completely serious, passed by the both of you when she was going to another professor's office to leave something, and both of you were heading back to the main space. As always, Jay picked you up from the lab, he was carrying your bag slung over one shoulder and a couple binders you'd also brought to the lab because you didn't have the time to run back to the dorms and leave them since your class from before had ended a little bit later. So you'd shown up to the lab with your bag, your binders, and your slightly breathless "I'm here, sorry," and Jay had shown up at 6:15 like clockwork and taken all of it from you without asking, the bag and the binders tucked against him like they weighed nothing, leaving you empty-handed and oddly weightless as you walked beside him through the corridor.
She saw you both, both of you saw her, both of you joyfully greeted her, a warm, simultaneous "hi, Professor!" that came out so in unison it was almost comedic, and she greeted you both back, her eyes flicking from you to Jay to your bag on his shoulder to the easy, close way you were walking, and she plastered a knowing smile on her lips, deliberate and impossibly smug, and said "both of you look good together" then walked off, her heels clicking down the hallway like a punctuation mark.
You laughed afterwards, short and bright and slightly too quick, because what else could you do? The knot in your stomach had pulled tighter and you didn't know what to do with that either.
By the sixth week, you were just eating lunch with your friends at the cafeteria. Yes, the public cafeteria filled with a bunch of people from different courses and different years, all mushed into one sprawling, echoing space — the kind of scene that felt like it belonged in a movie's wide shot, hundreds of bodies and trays and conversations layered into a wall of ambient noise. It wasn't cramped, it was huge even, but it was awkward with the amount of people present in the room, every table occupied, every seat filled, the kind of crowded that made you feel visible whether you wanted to be or not.
You were eating with your friends, mid-bite into your rice, explaining to them for the ninth time the step-by-step procedure for this one assignment, "no, you add the reagent after, not before, I swear I've said this eight times already,” when a hand just lightly tapped your shoulder. Just a tap, brief and warm, the kind of touch that was gentle enough to be a question rather than a demand.
You looked back, and oh my god, it was Jay. He was standing behind you with a bouquet of flowers, your favorite flowers rather — yellow and white lilies, the ones you'd mentioned once, just once, in passing, during one of those library study sessions weeks ago, a throwaway line about how your grandmother used to grow them in her garden and you'd always thought they were the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. And he'd actually remembered, because here they were — yellow and white lilies, absolutely gorgeous, wrapped in craft paper and tied with a simple twine bow, the petals soft and slightly open. The whole function stopped what they were doing. You heard a fork drop in the distance, the clatter of metal on tile sharp and cartoonish. You heard a camera click from somewhere to your left. You heard the hushed murmurs of those nearby, a wave of whispers rippling outward from your table like the surface of a pond after a stone.
"What the hell is this?" you asked, but your voice came out steadier than your heart, which was doing backflips, literal backflips, acrobatics you didn't know it was capable of. This was the first time you'd ever received a bouquet of flowers from anyone, not from your ex, not from a friend, not from no one, let alone from the campus heartthrob himself, standing behind you in a crowded cafeteria on a regular weekday like this was something people just did.
"Who else would it be for aside from my absolutely lovely and gorgeous girlfriend?" he said, smiling, not smirking, not performing, just smiling, warm and bright and so unreasonably genuine that it made something behind your ribs stutter.
Fuck, even about a month later and the word "girlfriend" still made a knot in your stomach tighten, still sent that same small electric pulse through your system, still made you feel like the ground had shifted a fraction of an inch under your feet. He said it loud enough for everybody to hear it, loud enough for the tables nearby, for the camera that had clicked, for every pair of ears in this room that had been waiting for confirmation of whatever rumor they'd been spinning for weeks.
You accepted the bouquet, your fingers closing around the craft paper, the stems cool and slightly damp against your palm, and said thank you, and your voice was softer than you meant it to be, softer than the moment called for, because the lilies smelled like your grandmother's garden and you weren't prepared for that particular wave of nostalgia to crash into you in the middle of the cafeteria. He crouched down to meet you at eye-level, his face close to yours, close enough that you could see the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, and he whispered something to you, "you're doing great, by the way,” so quiet that only you could hear it, his breath warm against your ear, and then he pressed a feather-light kiss to your cheek. Just a brush, just a ghost of contact, his lips landing somewhere below your cheekbone and above your jaw, barely a second of touch, but it burned, a warm bloom spreading from the point of contact across your face, down your neck, and into your chest like a drop of red food coloring in a glass of water. You could feel yourself getting red, could feel the heat climbing your skin. After the whole ordeal, he just simply walked away — straightened up, gave you one last look, that same easy smile, and walked back toward the exit like he hadn't just detonated a small bomb in the middle of the lunch rush. You turned back to your friends like it was nothing, setting the bouquet down beside you on the bench, the lilies resting against your thigh.
Your friends were in absolute disbelief.
"Girl, what the fuck?! You have to fill us in! How did you pull the Park Jongseong?!" a friend asked, leaning across the table, her eyes wide, her voice climbing into a register that was part shriek and part interrogation.
"Even better, how did he pull you," another squealed in excitement, grabbing your arm, bouncing in her seat, the kind of giddy that was infectious even when you were trying very hard to be stoic.
None of them knew you were getting paid to do this though.
That same evening, in your dorm, the lights off except for the small lamp on your desk, you snapped a photo of the flowers, you'd found a cup large enough to hold them, filled it with water from the hallway fountain, and set them on your desk like a tiny, temporary garden. The photo came out warm, the lamplight catching the curve of the white petals, the yellow centers glowing like small suns. You sent it to Jay.
You [10:04 PM]: one image attached
You [10:04 PM]: thank you so much for the flowers wtf 🥹 i've never received a bouquet from anyone before
You [10:04 PM]: lilies are my absolute favorite oh my goodness
He replied almost instantly — the read receipt and the response arriving so close together it was like he'd been waiting.
Jongseong [10:04 PM]: you're always welcome ☺️
Jongseong [10:04 PM]: no thank you for the kiss?
Right, the kiss. The feather-light, cheek-grazing, face-reddening, cafeteria-witnessed kiss. The most physical you'd both agreed to was holding hands, or at least around that point, the boundary lines drawn during that diner conversation, the ones you'd insisted on, the ones he'd argued about, the ones you'd both silently been adjusting week by week without ever formally revising the contract. The kiss was uncalled for. The kiss was not part of the agreement.
You [10:04 PM]: dude hell no, we did not agree to that point 😹
Three dots. Appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again, like he was typing and deleting and typing and deleting, wrestling with the response like it was a decision that mattered.
Jongseong [10:05 PM]: mmmm
Jongseong [10:05 PM]: sure, but it did make us look convincing, right?
It definitely did. The whispers after he left, the stares, the camera click — convincing didn't even begin to cover it. The whole cafeteria had swallowed it whole, no questions asked.
Damn you, Park Jongseong.
The cafeteria occurrence didn't need a whole day for the entire university to figure it out.
By that evening, it was everywhere, the campus confessions page, the group chats, the study group threads, the comment sections of Jay's Instagram posts from three months ago that had nothing to do with you but suddenly had people tagging your handle underneath them. Literally everybody figured it out, and a lot of people were enthusiastic about the whole thing, the kind of enthusiastic that manifested as heart emojis in your DMs, strangers smiling at you in the hallway, and your lab students suddenly treating you with a reverence that had nothing to do with your teaching ability and everything to do with who you were allegedly sleeping with.
But of course, there were some who were incredibly salty about it. A few bad words directed to you here and there, muttered under breaths as you passed, the kind of venom that was just quiet enough to be deniable if you confronted it. Salty social media notes that were so painfully directed to you that it was almost comedic, the kind of anonymous posts that said things like "some people will do anything for attention" and "weird how the most popular guy on campus suddenly has a girlfriend nobody's ever heard of,” vague enough to maintain plausible deniability, specific enough that you could feel the crosshairs on your back. The whole package. But you couldn't care less. Imagine going crazy over a man who's "taken" but he's technically single? The irony wasn't lost on you. You were being paid to hold his hand, and people were tearing themselves apart over it. The absurdity of it was almost enough to make you laugh out loud in the middle of the hallway, but you didn't, because you had a reputation to maintain — however fabricated it was.
The word spread like wildfire, until it eventually reached Jay's parents. Yeah, he told you that personally, called you on a Wednesday night, his voice tense but not panicked, more like someone bracing for impact rather than already in the crash. Jay's parents were powerful people, powerful as in they had every single kind of connection to the school — administrators, board members, donors whose names were etched into the marble plaques on the walls of the newest buildings. The kind of people who could make a phone call and change a curriculum, who could lean on a dean's decision with nothing more than a raised eyebrow at a dinner function.
His mom had heard through the wife of a trustee, who'd heard through her daughter, who'd heard through the campus grapevine, which meant the news had traveled from students to parents in less than forty-eight hours. Jay had told them it was true, that he was seeing someone, that it was you, that it was serious. And they'd wanted to meet you. He'd managed to delay it somehow, told you not to worry about it yet, that he'd figure out the timing. You'd nodded, said okay, and pushed it to the back of your mind where it sat like a box you didn't want to open.
Those seconds turned into minutes, then minutes into days, then days to weeks, then weeks into months.
Then somewhere in the blur of all that time, somewhere between the walking, the studying, the cafeteria lunches, the quiet drives, and the late-night texts, you fell in love with him. Shit, you didn't even notice it happening. That was the thing. It wasn't a moment, wasn't a lightning strike, wasn't a cinematic realization set to swelling strings. It was slow, quiet, and insidious, the way morning light creeps across a room until you suddenly realize you can see everything clearly. It happened in the margins. In the spaces between the fake and the real, in the moments that weren't part of the performance, in the details that no contract could account for. By the time you recognized it for what it was, by the time you could put a name to the warmth that had taken up permanent residence in your chest, it was already too late, and you'd been living with it for so long that it felt less like a revelation and more like an admission of something you'd always known.
It was in the polaroid. The one in Jay's car. You'd noticed it one evening when he was driving you back from the diner, the second time you'd gone, or maybe the third, the visits had started blurring together into a single, warm continuum. The car had stopped at a red light, and you'd glanced at the dashboard, and there it was, tucked into the corner of the visor, held in place by the clip, a small polaroid photo of the two of you. You and Jay. In the photo, you were laughing, mouth open, eyes crinkled, mid-sentence or mid-laugh, caught in that unguarded space between expressions where you looked the most like yourself. And Jay was looking at you. Not at the camera, not smiling for the lens — looking at you, his head slightly tilted, a soft, almost wondering expression on his face, the kind of look that made your breath catch even through the distortion of polaroid film and faded light. When the hell did he even take this? No, when has someone taken this? You didn't remember a camera, didn't remember posing, didn't remember anything except the warmth of whatever moment it had captured.
"Is that us?" you'd asked, reaching for it.
Jay's hand had come up quickly, not roughly, but quickly, and gently guided your hand away, his fingers wrapping loosely around your wrist for just a second. "Don't touch, the lighting's perfect right there."
"You have a photo of us in your car," you said, and you were teasing but your voice came out strange, softer than you intended, with a wobble you couldn't quite control.
"Of course I do. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't?" He'd said it lightly, easily, his eyes on the road, eventually the light turned green, and he drove off, the polaroid stayed where it was, and you spent the rest of the ride staring at it from the corner of your eye, this small, square proof that somewhere along the way, a moment between you had been important enough to preserve.
It was in the condominium. The first time Jay had suggested you study at his place instead of the library, you'd hesitated. His place, as in the off-campus condominium his parents had bought for him, the one you'd heard about in passing from people who talked about Jay's lifestyle the way people talked about celebrity real estate. But the dorms were unbearable that week — to your right, the person in the next room wouldn't stop watching anime at full volume, the theme songs bleeding through the wall in an endless, tinny loop of Japanese pop that drilled into your skull every time you tried to focus on a paragraph. To your left, someone was constantly jamming — guitar riffs, the same four chords over and over, the kind of repetitive, enthusiastic mediocrity that made you want to open your window and throw your textbook into the quad. You'd mentioned it to Jay offhandedly, just venting, the way you'd mention bad weather, "I can't focus, my neighbors are insane,” and he'd said, simply, "Come to mine. It's quiet." You'd said no, that's too much, and he'd said, "It's literally just a place to study, Y/N, I'm not inviting you to a masquerade ball," you'd laughed despite yourself, and an hour later you were standing in the lobby of his condominium complex, looking around like you'd walked into the wrong building.
Because it looked and felt exactly like a hotel. The lobby had high ceilings and polished marble floors and a front desk with someone who actually greeted you by name. The elevator had more buttons than your dorm had floors, and the hallway to his unit was lined with expensive wood paneling and soft ambient lighting and the kind of silence that felt like a luxury. His unit itself was definitely something. It was everything you weren't used to. Hardwood floors that gleamed. Floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city skyline. A kitchen with marble countertops and appliances that looked like they'd never been touched. Bookshelves made of dark, rich wood, actual wood, the kind that smelled like forests and money, stocked with novels, vinyl records, and a small collection of framed photos you didn't let yourself look at too closely. It was warm though, not sterile, not showroom-perfect, but lived-in in a way that surprised you. A throw blanket draped over the couch. A mug left on the counter from that morning's coffee. Sheet music scattered across the dining table, handwritten, his handwriting, notes and chords in pencil and pen. It smelled exactly like him, that same woody, clean cologne from the diner, but also coffee, detergent, and something underneath that was just so him, a scent you'd started associating with safety without realizing when.
You studied at his dining table. He studied on the couch. For the first hour, you worked in comfortable silence, the only sound was the scratch of your pen and the soft turn of his pages. Then he'd get up to refill his water, pause by your chair, lean down to read over your shoulder, and make some comment about your handwriting, "is that an 'a' or a tiny drawing of a fish?" and you'd swat at him and he'd dodge, grinning, and retreat back to the couch. This became the routine. You'd show up with your bag and your binders, he'd already have a drink waiting for you on the table, iced tea, the way you liked it, no sugar, extra ice, a detail he'd clocked without being told, and you'd study, and you'd bicker, and sometimes you'd order food and eat cross-legged on his living room floor with the TV on low, and sometimes he'd play something on his guitar. You'd listen from the table with your chin in your hand, your pen still, and your heart doing that thing it did whenever music came out of his hands, like the sound was traveling directly from the strings to your chest without bothering to go through your ears first.
It was in the jacket. During Jay's shows with his band, the university events, the seasonal showcases, the occasional gig at a bar off-campus that served overpriced drinks and undercooked nachos, you started showing up. Not every time, not at first, but enough that the people in the crowd began to recognize you as that girl, the one standing near the side of the stage with her hands in her pockets, watching the lead guitarist with an expression she couldn't quite control. And you wore his jacket. It started because the venue was cold, that was the practical reason, the one you told yourself, the bar had aggressive air conditioning and you'd worn a thin shirt and Jay had shrugged off his jacket without asking and draped it over your shoulders mid-conversation, the leather still warm from his body, the lining soft against the back of your neck. But then you kept wearing it. To every show. It was oversized on you, the sleeves falling past your wrists, the collar swallowing your shoulders, and it smelled like him. When you wrapped yourself in it, standing in the crowd with the bass vibrating through your ribs and the stage lights washing everything in amber and blue, you felt like you were wearing an embrace. Every single time he'd find you in the crowd mid-song, his eyes scanning the faces until they landed on yours, and he'd smile. Not the performance smile, not the heartthrob smile, not the smile he used for the audience. A different one, just for you.
It was in the food. Jay showing up to your dorm with takeout bags in his hands became so regular that your roommate stopped asking questions and started just setting an extra place at the desk. He'd knock, two quick taps, your rhythm, and you'd open the door, and he'd hold up the bag like a trophy and say something like "you skipped lunch again, didn't you" or "don't argue, I already bought it" or, once, memorably, "I got the spicy one because you lied last time about being able to handle mild." He'd sit on your bed, your narrow, creaky dorm bed that was approximately one-third the size of his king at the condo, and you'd sit cross-legged across from him, and you'd eat and talk and laugh. He'd tell you about band practice or something his mom texted or a song he was trying to learn, and you'd tell him about your shift or a grade you were stressed about or the weird noise the pipes in the hallway were making at 2 AM, then the food would get cold because you'd forget to eat while you were talking, and then he'd notice and say "eat your food" and you'd say "you eat your food" and he'd pick up a piece of whatever and hold it in front of your mouth until you took it, you'd both laugh, then the knot in your stomach would tighten, and you'd think: this isn't fake. This can't be fake. Nothing about this feels fake.
And it was in the words. Those two damn words. Whenever you were in public, walking across campus, leaving a building, saying goodbye at the car, parting ways at the cafeteria, Jay would look at you with that easy, warm expression and say, "Love you." Not "I love you." Just "love you." Two words, dropped casually, breezily, like they weighed nothing. But there was never an "I." Never the subject, never the declaration, never the full sentence that would turn it from a fragment into a statement. Just "love you,” light, effortless, and always accompanied by a smile or a wave or the brush of his hand against yours, and every time he said it, you felt the words land somewhere deep in your chest and settle there — warm, confusing, and impossible to parse. You told yourself it was part of the act. Convincing. Consistent. A boyfriend thing to say. But the absence of the "I" nagged at you, not because you needed it, but because its absence felt deliberate, like he was holding something back. "Love you" was a door he could walk through and close behind him and "I love you" was a door that didn't have a handle on the other side. You didn't ask about it. You were afraid of the answer. You were more afraid that there was no answer at all, that it was just habit, just performance, just two words that meant exactly as much as the envelope of cash they were attached to.
Months. Eleven months. You'd been fake-dating Jay for almost a year, and somewhere along the way, the fake had started flaking off like old paint, and what was underneath was something you didn't have the courage to name, something that felt too big for the arrangement you'd made, something that made you lie awake at night staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars your roommate had stuck on the ceiling freshman year and thinking fuck, fuck, fuck in a quiet, desperate loop. Because you knew that this had an expiration date, that one day Jay would sit you down and say it's over, he was free, his parents had backed off, and both of you could go back to the way things were. Two people who happened to share a classroom and nothing else. And you'd say yes, of course, sure, sounds good, and you'd smile.
You'd take whatever was left of the envelope money and you'd go back to your life and he'd go back to his. The polaroid would stay in his car, the jacket would go back in his closet, the lilies would wilt on your desk, the word "girlfriend" would stop making your stomach twist, and you'd be fine. You'd be fine. You'd absolutely, definitely, completely be fine.
You were at the convenience store near campus — the one that stayed open past midnight, sold rice balls and instant ramen, and the kind of cheap coffee that tasted a lot like regret but kept you awake during exam week. It was a Thursday, or maybe a Friday, the days had started running together, your brain fuzzy from a long shift at the lab and a longer afternoon of studying and the kind of bone-deep tiredness that made the lights of the store feel both too bright and strangely soothing. You were standing in the snack aisle, holding two different brands of shrimp chips and trying to decide which one was less of a mistake, when your phone buzzed in your pocket.
You pulled it out. The screen glowed.
Jongseong [11:47 PM]: come home with me next weekend
Jongseong [11:47 PM]: i'll introduce you to my parents :)
You stared at the screen. The shrimp chips hung limp in your other hand. The words on your phone sat there, stark and undeniable, and the knot in your stomach, the one that had been tightening for eleven months, the one you'd been pretending wasn't there, the one that felt exactly like love, pulled so tight you thought it might snap.
Jongseong [11:47 PM]: sound good?
You didn't type back. Not yet.
Shit, you were so, so damn screwed.
The drive was forty-five minutes of your heart attempting to exit your body through your throat. Jay's car hummed along the highway, city lights smearing past the windows, and you sat in the passenger seat with your hands folded in your lap and your pulse visible in your wrists.
You'd spent the entire morning getting ready, not for them, you told yourself, for you, because if you were going to walk into the Park family estate, you were going to walk in looking the part. Black kitten heels that clicked when you walked. A black satin maxi skirt that moved like water around your ankles. A white turtleneck top, it was baggy, the sleeves wide and draped, ending just below the elbow, the kind of silhouette that managed to look effortless and intentional at the same time. Gold jewelry, because your grandmother always said gold warmed the skin and you believed her. A gold bangle on your right wrist that caught the light every time you moved. Your favorite necklace, a gold chain with a heart locket, and inside that locket, a photograph of your grandmother, the one who'd gifted it to you when you were fourteen, her smile small, proud, and permanent behind the glass, and beside her photo, an empty space where a second picture could go, a blank rectangle of possibility you'd never filled. Gold teardrop earrings that swayed when you turned your head. Your hair was done out, wavy at the ends, falling over your shoulders the way you'd spent forty minutes and two YouTube tutorials perfecting.
When Jay had arrived at your dorm to pick you up, he'd knocked his usual two taps, and you'd opened the door, and he'd — stopped. His hand was still raised from the knock, his mouth slightly open, his eyes traveling from your hair to your earrings to the locket resting against your collarbone to the drape of the top to the sweep of the skirt to the kitten heels, and then back up again, slowly, the way someone reads a letter they weren't expecting. He didn't say anything. He just looked at you, and the silence stretched, and it wasn't the comfortable kind, it was the kind that had weight, the kind that pressed against your skin and made you acutely, almost painfully aware of every inch of yourself.
"Jay?" you said. "Do I have something on my face? Is my foundation cakey? Did I smudge my—" You touched your cheek, your hand moving instinctively, your confidence deflating by the second under the intensity of his stare.
He blinked. Then he swallowed. Then he said, quietly, almost to himself, "You look—" and stopped again, the word lodged somewhere in his throat, and he exhaled a small breath and ran his hand through his hair and tried again, his voice steadier but still carrying that undercurrent of something stunned and unguarded: "You look really beautiful, Y/N."
The knot in your stomach, yup, the same damn one you'd been ignoring for months, pulled tight enough to hurt.
Now you were here, walking through the front door of the Park family home, and the word home didn't even begin to cover it. The foyer was the size of your entire dorm floor. Dark hardwood, polished to a mirror shine. A double staircase curving upward. A chandelier that probably cost more than your parents' house. Fresh flowers on a console table, lilies, white ones, and you tried not to read into it but your hand drifted to your locket anyway. The house smelled like gardenias, furniture polish, and the kind of quiet that only enormous, expensive spaces could produce.
Dinner was served in a dining room that could have seated twenty and was currently set for four. Candles. Crystal glasses. Plates that probably had a heritage. You sat across from Mrs. Park and beside Jay, and the food was extraordinary and your appetite was nonexistent, but you ate, because that was what you did — you ate what was in front of you and you were grateful for it, because once upon a time there hadn't always been something on the plate.
"So, Y/N," Mr. Park began, his voice deep and measured, carrying the practiced warmth of a man who was accustomed to making people feel comfortable before he decided whether they deserved to stay that way. "Jongseong tells us you're on a full scholarship. That's quite impressive."
"Thank you, sir! It took a lot of work, but I'm grateful every day for the opportunity." You kept your voice steady, your posture straighter than it had ever been, your hands folded in your lap under the table where they wouldn't give you away.
"And what are you studying?"
You told him. He nodded. The conversation moved through the expected checkpoints, your coursework, your lab work, your plans after graduation, and you answered each question cleanly, precisely, the way you answered exam prompts, and Jay beside you was a quiet, steady presence, his hand occasionally brushing your knee under the table in a gesture that was either reassurance or reflex or both.
"She's the top of her class, actually," Jay said, and there was pride in his voice, real pride, not performance, the kind that couldn't be faked, or at least the kind that you chose to believe couldn't be. "She works as a lab instructor on top of her full course load. She's—she's really remarkable."
Mrs. Park smiled. It was a beautiful smile, technically. All the right muscles, all the right timing. But it didn't reach her eyes, which remained cool and assessing, two dark stones set in an otherwise immaculate face. "How lovely," she said. "You must be very dedicated."
"I try to be," you said.
"And your family—where are they based?" Mrs. Park asked, and the question landed softly, the way sharp things do when they're wrapped in silk.
You told her. The small town. The modest background. The distance. You didn't apologize for it, you wouldn't, but you felt the temperature of the room shift, felt it the way you feel a window crack open in winter: a thin, precise draft that changes everything without disturbing a single thing.
"How quaint," Mrs. Park said, and lifted her wine glass to her lips.
The rest of dinner passed in a rhythm that felt like walking across a frozen lake, each step measured, each sound checked for the groan of something giving way beneath you. Mr. Park asked about your interests, your hobbies, your opinions on a recent news story, and you answered, and he nodded. He seemed pleased, genuinely, which was more than you could say for the woman sitting across from you, whose silence had developed its own vocabulary. Every time you spoke, her gaze would drift, just slightly, to the locket at your collarbone, or the modest cut of your top, or the way you held your fork, cataloguing, calculating, placing each observation into a mental file labeled Not Enough.
After dinner, Mr. Park retreated to his study with a cordial "it was wonderful to meet you, Y/N," and Jay went to use the restroom, and Mrs. Park excused herself with a gracious smile and a hand on your shoulder that lingered one beat too long, and you were left standing in the hallway with the echo of crystal and the ghost of gardenias, unsure of what to do with your hands or your body or the evening that still stretched ahead of you.
So you wandered. Not with intention, just with the aimless, curious impulse of someone who'd never been in a house this size and couldn't quite fathom its dimensions. You found the kitchen. Or rather, the kitchen found you, you turned a corner and there it was, vast, gleaming, and staffed by two women in uniform who were clearing the dinner dishes with the quiet efficiency of people who had done this a thousand times and would do it a thousand more.
"Can I help?" you asked, and they looked at you the way you'd been looked at all evening, with surprise, though this time it was a different kind.
"Oh, no, miss, we've got it," the older one said, her hands already moving, stacking plates.
"Please, I insist. I'm not a guest who sits around," you said, and you were already reaching for a dish towel, and something in your voice or your hands or the way you said guest, like it was a costume you were wearing rather than a role you inhabited, made them pause, and then relent, and then smile, and before long you were standing beside them at the counter, wiping down plates and making small talk about the weather, the commute, and how long they'd worked here. It was easy, the easiest you'd felt all night, because you knew this rhythm, this work, this language of hands, tasks, and the quiet solidarity of people who kept things running while other people sat at tables and made decisions about their lives.
You helped sweep the kitchen floor, the broom familiar in your hands, the motion automatic — you'd done this before, after all. Not in a house like this, but in houses, other people's houses, back when you were young and your mom would clean for families in the next town over. You'd go with her on weekends because she couldn't afford a sitter, and you'd help because that was what you did, because your hands were small but they could hold a rag, because every extra pair of hands meant finishing earlier and going home sooner, and because the women who employed your mother sometimes slipped you a few bills at the end of the day. You'd hand them over and your mom would kiss your forehead and say “that's my girl.” The money would then disappear into the jar on top of the refrigerator that was saving for something you never quite reached.
"You're very kind," the younger maid said, watching you work. "Most of Mr. and Mrs. Park's guests don't—they don't really notice us."
"I notice you," you said simply, because you did, because you always had, because you'd been on the other side of that not-noticed wall your whole life and you'd promised yourself that if you ever ended up on this side, you wouldn't be the person who walked past.
After a while, you needed paper towels, you'd spilled a bit of water on the counter and the dish towel was already damp. The younger maid pointed you toward the supply closet down the hall, and you walked, your heels quiet on the hardwood, the hallway long and lit by sconces that cast amber pools on the walls, and you were rounding the corner when you heard your name.
Not your first name. Your full name. Spoken by a voice that was smooth, unhurried, and utterly without malice — which made the words it was producing all the more devastating.
"She's a sweet girl," Mrs. Park was saying, and her voice carried through the gap of a door that wasn't fully closed, a sliver of warm light falling across the hallway floor. "She's pretty, she's smart, she's polite. But she's poor, Jongseong, and we do not want that reputation clinging onto our family."
Your hand stopped on the wall. Your heels stopped on the floor. Your lungs stopped in your chest.
"I don't want other people figuring out that my son married a peasant."
Peasant. The word hit you like a slap — not sharp, not sudden, but deep, a bruise that formed instantly and throbbed with a pain that radiated outward into your jaw, your shoulders, your fingertips. Peasant. As if your grandmother's hands that raised you were dirt. As if your mother's back that bent over other people's floors was a stain. As if the scholarship you'd bled for was a charity case instead of a testimony. Peasant. You pressed your back against the hallway wall and the locket was cool against your collarbone, your grandmother's face was pressed against the glass inside it. You wanted to scream but your throat was made of stone.
"Mom, that's—" Jay's voice, strained, tight, a wire pulled to its limit.
"Jongseong, honey." Mrs. Park again, and her tone shifted — still smooth, still gentle, but with an edge underneath, the edge of someone who believed with absolute certainty that they were doing you a favor by telling you the truth. "I know what's best for you, and Y/N isn't what's best for you."
"Isn't it better that she comes from less?" Jay said, and you could hear him struggling, hear the syllables catching and tumbling, hear the way he was reaching for arguments and coming up with handfuls of air. "She's hard-working, she's independent, she's earned everything she has—like, she didn't just inherit it, she built it. Built it. Isn't that—isn't that worth something?"
"Of course it's worth something, dear. Worth something to her," Mrs. Park said, and the distinction was precisely devastating. "Worth something to the life she comes from. But this family has a legacy, and that legacy requires a partner who can stand beside you at a charity gala and talk to the governor's wife about the yacht club without looking out of place. It requires someone who understands the world you're going to inherit."
"I understand the world I'm going to inherit," Jay said, but his voice was smaller now, less certain, and you realized with a slow, sickening clarity what was happening, he wasn't failing to defend you. He was drowning in something else entirely, something that was rising in him at the same time his mother was tearing you apart, and the two forces were colliding inside his chest and neither one was winning and you could hear it, you could hear the exact moment when the boy who'd handed you an envelope full of cash, begged you to save him realized that you'd saved him in a way money couldn't buy, and he couldn't speak because love, real, involuntary, and irreversible love, doesn't come with talking points.
"Your father agrees with me," Mrs. Park continued, and you heard Mr. Park's voice then, low and conciliatory, the voice of a man who'd already made his decision and was now merely softening its edges: "Jongseong, your mother and I only want what's best for you. You're the sole heir to the company. Everything we've built—the business, the reputation, the standing—all of it goes to you. And the person standing beside you determines how the world sees that legacy. It isn't about Y/N as a person, okay? It's about suitability."
Sole heir. The words registered somewhere beneath the devastation, filed away in the part of your brain that was still functioning, but they landed on numb ground. Of course he was. Of course the only son of this house, this dynasty, this gleaming empire of hardwood and chandeliers. Of course he was the one who'd carry it all. And of course they wanted someone suitable. Someone who knew what a yacht club was. Someone who didn't learn which fork to use by watching other people eat. Someone who wasn't you.
"Y/N is suitable," Jay said, and his voice cracked on the word suitable, cracked the way his voice had cracked in that study room ages ago when he'd said I'm begging, except this time the desperation wasn't about freedom from an arrangement. It was about you, specifically you, and the crack in his voice said everything his sentences couldn't: he loved you, that he'd been too late realizing it, that the realization was so big and so sudden and so consuming that it had stolen the language right out of his mouth, and his mother was still talking and he couldn't find the words to stop her because every word he reached for felt too small for what he was trying to say.
"Jongseong." Mrs. Park's voice again, patient, immovable, the voice of a woman who had been winning arguments in this house since before her son was born. "I'm not saying she's a bad person. I'm saying she's not our person. There's a difference, and you know it. You've known it your whole life."
Silence. The worst kind — the kind that isn't absence of sound but absence of response, the kind that means someone has opened their mouth and found nothing there, the kind that means the person you needed to fight for you is fighting something inside themselves instead and losing.
You pressed your palm flat against the hallway wall. The wallpaper was silk, you noticed. Actual silk. You noticed because noticing small, irrelevant things is what the body does when the large, relevant things are too heavy to carry. Your grandmother's face was warm against your collarbone. The empty space in the locket beside her was cold.
"Y/N, dear? The paper towels?" A voice from behind you, gentle, concerned, the younger maid, standing at the end of the hallway with a questioning tilt of her head, her eyes scanning your face and finding something there that made her expression shift from curiosity to caution. "Are you okay?"
You straightened. You smoothed the front of your skirt. You touched the locket once, quick, reflexive, like pressing a hand to a wound, and you smiled. A small smile. A functional one. The kind that holds a person together long enough to get to the bathroom where they can fall apart in private.
"Yup, coming!" you said, and your voice didn't crack, not even once, and that was the bravest thing you'd ever done.
An hour later, you still felt so sick to your stomach that you were genuinely surprised you hadn't thrown up.
The nausea sat low and persistent, a churning, acidic thing that had nothing to do with the food and everything to do with the word peasant reverberating through your skull on an endless loop, each repetition carving it a little deeper, making it a little more permanent, turning it from something someone had said into something you might always hear. Both of you had left the Park residence about ten minutes ago, you in the passenger seat, Jay behind the wheel, the glow of the dashboard illuminating his jaw, his hands, the side profile you'd memorized without meaning to. And his mother — his mother had the audacity, the sheer, staggering audacity, to pull you into a hug before you left. Right there in the foyer, in front of the gardenias and the chandelier, she'd wrapped her arms around you and pressed her cheek to yours and said, "It was so lovely to meet you, dear," and her perfume was expensive and her embrace was warm and every cell in your body was screaming you called me a peasant, you called me a peasant, you called me a peasant while your arms hung at your sides and your mouth said, "Thank you for having me, Mrs. Park," and you smiled, and she smiled, and the hug lasted exactly the right number of seconds for a woman who meant absolutely none of it. Absolutely disgusting.
You were upset for the whole ride, and you knew it was visible, you could feel it in the weight of your own silence, in the way your answers came out a half-beat too slow, in the faint, persistent tremor in your hands that you hid by keeping them folded in your lap. You were still talking to Jay, still responding to his questions, still maintaining the basic architecture of a conversation, but there was a layer of sadness underneath everything, thin and translucent but unmistakable, the way frost on a window doesn't block the view but changes the color of everything behind it. He'd asked if you had fun. You said yes. He'd asked if you thought dinner went well. You said it went fine. He'd asked if his mom was nice to you. You said she was very hospitable. Each answer was technically true and emotionally hollow, and the hollowness rang like a bell in the space between you.
Of course, Jay noticed. He noticed within the first three minutes, because Jay noticed everything about you, had been noticing for months, cataloguing your habits and your silences and the specific way your voice changed when you were trying very hard not to feel something, and this voice — this flat, careful, polite voice — was the one you used when you were hurting and refusing to admit it. He tried pushing you to answer why you were upset. Gently at first, "Hey, are you okay? You seem quiet,” and then with more intention, "Seriously, Y/N, talk to me. What's wrong?" and you wouldn't budge. You shook your head, you said nothing, you said you were just tired, you said it'd been a long evening, you said you were fine, and every "I'm fine" was a door you were closing in his face. He kept knocking, you kept closing, and the rhythm of it was making the air in the car thicker, heavier, and harder to breathe.
A few pushes later, rain started pouring. Somewhat heavy rain, the kind that arrived all at once, as if someone had turned a faucet, the sky splitting open and dumping sheets of water across the windshield so thick that the world outside became a blur of headlights, dark asphalt, and the ghostly shapes of trees bending under the weight of it. Predictable, you thought. You'd checked your weather app earlier, back at the dorms when you were still getting ready, and it had said it was going to rain around this hour. You'd even packed a small umbrella in your bag. Funny how the universe couldn't even be original about the timing. Eventually, that was all the conversation in the car was about while it was raining, Jay kept pushing and you just wouldn't give, the back-and-forth wearing down into something jagged and raw, his persistence meeting your silence like water against stone except the stone was starting to crack and the water kept coming and neither of you knew how to stop.
"Y/N, come on, you've been off since we left, just tell me—"
"I'm fine, Jay."
"You're not fine, you haven't been fine all night—"
"I said I'm fine."
"Would you stop saying that? You're clearly not—"
"There's nothing to talk about."
And then, finally the thread snapped. Jay's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, his jaw clenched, and something broke loose in his chest, something that had been building for miles, and the words came out sharp, frustrated, and louder than he meant them to be, loud enough to cut through the rain drumming against the roof of the car, loud enough to make you flinch:
"Fuck, Y/N, you're acting like we're an actual couple!"
The car went quiet. Even the rain seemed to recede for a second, pulling back just enough to let the silence rush in and fill the space where the sound had been. Then your eyes burned. Just like that, without warning, without permission, the heat surged upward from somewhere deep in your chest, hit the backs of your eyes, your vision blurred, and the dashboard lights smeared into streaks of amber and white, and you couldn't even hold it anymore, couldn't keep the door closed, couldn't pretend the frost on the window wasn't there, and the tears came. Not the quiet, dignified kind. The kind that take everything with them. Your mascara and your eyeliner, the eyeliner you'd spent twenty minutes perfecting, the mascara that was supposed to be waterproof but clearly had not been road-tested against the specific devastation of hearing the boy you love tell you that your feelings were out of bounds, streamed down your cheeks in dark, inky rivers, tracing lines along your jaw, dripping off your chin onto the satin skirt you'd chosen so carefully, and you couldn't stop it, you couldn't even slow it down, you could only sit there in the passenger seat and sob silently, your shoulders barely moving, your mouth pressed shut, the only sound the wet, ragged catch of your breath trying to hold itself together and failing.
Jay just thought you'd gone radio silent, another refusal, another door, another round of the same fight. He glanced over once, briefly, saw you facing the window, and returned his eyes to the road, his jaw still tight, his hands still gripping the wheel, the frustration still hot in his veins. Then he glanced at the rearview mirror. And he saw you. Not the back of your head, your face, reflected in the glass, and the reflection showed mascara-streaked cheeks and red-rimmed eyes and a mouth trembling with the effort of not making a sound, and you were sobbing, silently, completely, the kind of crying that meant the person had decided long ago that their pain wasn't worth hearing and was holding it underwater with both hands. His heart broke. It broke the way glass breaks, suddenly, completely, into a thousand pieces that couldn't be reassembled, that could only be swept up and carried. He pulled over. No warning, no signal, just the car jerking to the right, the tires splashing through the puddle at the edge of the road, the vehicle settling onto the gravel shoulder of some neighborhood street, the houses dark, the streetlights haloed in rain, the world reduced to the sound of water and the ghost of your breathing.
"Y/N—" he started, and he reached over, his hand extending across the center console toward your shoulder, toward your arm, toward any part of you he could hold, because he couldn't think straight while driving and he couldn't think straight now and the only thing his body knew how to do was reach for you. But the moment his fingertips brushed the fabric of your sleeve, you moved, you unbuckled your seatbelt with a sharp click, yanked the door handle, and you were out, the door swinging open and the rain pouring in and you stepping out of the car and into the downpour like it was the only direction left.
You ran. Not far, not fast, your kitten heels slipped on the wet asphalt and you kicked them off without breaking stride, bare feet slapping against the puddles, the rain hitting your shoulders, your hair, your face, mixing with the tears until you couldn't tell which was falling from the sky and which was falling from you. You didn't know where you were going — just away, just forward, just anywhere that wasn't the passenger seat of that car where you'd heard those words.
You're acting like we're an actual couple.
Jay followed. He was out of the car before the door had fully closed behind you, his own door left open, the interior light on, and he was running, actually running, his shoes hitting the pavement, his shirt already soaked through, the rain flattening his hair against his forehead, and he was following you because one time, months ago, when you'd stepped out of your dorm without an umbrella on a cloudy day, your roommate had absentmindedly told him, told Jay, who'd been waiting in the hallway with takeout, that you were prone to sickness. Like, one raindrop and it was absolutely over. One drop and you were congested for a week. One chill and you were bedridden for three days. She'd said it casually, dismissively, the way people mention things that are just facts of life, and Jay had filed it away in the same mental cabinet where he stored your coffee order and your favorite flower and the sound of your laugh, and now you were standing in a downpour in with nothing but your dogs out and he was not about to let you catch your death on some stranger's sidewalk.
"Y/N, stop—please, just stop—"
You didn't stop. You walked faster, arms wrapped around yourself, the rain hammering your back, your skirt heavy with water and clinging to your legs, the gold earrings cold against your neck, the locket pressed to your chest like a shield that wasn't working. He caught up to you anyway, longer legs, less stubbornness, more desperation, and fell into step beside you, and you kept walking, and he kept pace, and the two of you moved down the wet sidewalk like two people who'd lost the map and couldn't agree on which way was home.
"Y/N—"
"I'm fine, Jay."
"You're not fine, you're standing in the rain without shoes—"
"I said I'm fine!"
And then you stopped. Not because you wanted to — because your legs gave out, not from weakness but from the sheer, crushing exhaustion of holding months of love inside a body that wasn't built to contain it. You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, rain streaming down your face, your bare feet in a puddle, your mascara ruined and your hair ruined and your heart absolutely, irreparably ruined, and you turned to face him, and the dam broke.
"I feel so stupid," you said, and your voice cracked on stupid, cracked wide open, the word splitting into fragments that the rain carried away. "I feel so—god, I'm so stupid, Jay, because I—I heard what your mother and father said about me. I heard it. I was looking for paper towels and the door was open and I—I heard everything." A sob tore through your chest and you pressed your hand over your mouth and it did nothing, the sound still came, muffled and wet and broken. "They called me a peasant. Your mother called me a—she said peasant, Jay, and your dad—suitability, he said it's about—about suitability, and I—"
You were breaking down. Visibly, audibly, completely. The stoic, composed girl who'd walked into the Park residence was gone, and what was left was someone younger, someone rawer, someone who'd been holding herself together with thread, spit, and willpower, had finally run out of all three. Your sentences were stuttering, fragmenting, words tumbling over each other like people trying to escape a burning room.
"And I know—I know this is just—I know we're just—I know it's fake, I know that, I was the one who said no, I was the one who—who said no falling in love shit, I was the one who said no weird couple stuff, I drew the lines, I made the rules, and—" Your breath hitched, a sharp, involuntary gasp that bent you slightly forward, and the rain ran down your face, your shoulders shook, you were crying so hard you could barely form words but you kept going because it was all coming out now, all of it, everything you'd swallowed, buried, and denied for months, and it was messy, ugly, and exactly what the truth always sounds like when it finally gets permission to speak. "But fuck you, Jay! Bullshit—I actually love you. I love you so much it hurts, and I—I don't even recall when it started feeling less like some mutual agreement and more like—more like—"
You couldn't finish. The sob swallowed the rest of the sentence and you stood there, drenched and trembling, your hands balled into fists at your sides, your mascara in ruins, your grandmother's locket pressed cold and heavy against your sternum, and you'd said it, you'd finally said it, and the relief and the terror of it were indistinguishable, two rivers merging into the same flood.
Jay stared at you. Through the rain, through the dark, through the curtain of water that blurred the edges of everything, he stared at you, and the expression on his face was something you'd never seen before, not shock, not pity, not the practiced composure of the campus heartthrob, but something stripped and raw, a boy standing in the rain watching the girl he loved say the words he hadn't been able to find in his parents' study, the words that had been sitting in his throat for weeks, months, maybe since that first evening in the diner when she'd smiled at him with ice cream on her lips and he'd thought oh no.
He stepped closer. One step. Two. Three. Close enough that you could see the rain caught in his eyelashes, close enough that you could see his chest rising and falling with breaths that were faster than they should've been, close enough that you could see his hands shaking. He reached out and pulled you into a hug from behind, his arms wrapping around your shoulders, his chest pressing against your back, his chin dropping to the top of your wet, wavy hair, and the embrace was so sudden, so warm, and so tight that it knocked the remaining breath out of your lungs and a fresh sob out of your throat. You could feel his heart through his soaked shirt, hammering against your spine, and it was racing, racing the way yours was, the same tempo, the same desperation, two drums beating in the same storm.
Then he turned you. Gently, his hands on your shoulders, guiding you until you were facing him, and the rain was between you, on you, and everywhere. Your eyes were red, your face was a mess, and he looked at you the way he'd looked at you in that polaroid in his car, not at the camera, not at the performance, at you, just you, and there was nothing guarded in it, nothing held back, nothing fake.
"And even after all that," he said, his voice low and rough and thick with something that sounded like it had been drowning for months and had finally broken the surface, "you still feel like you're the one who broke the agreement?"
And then he kissed you.
Not a feather-light press. Not a convincing-for-the-crowd peck. Not a contractual obligation on a cafeteria cheek. He kissed you in the rain, on a sidewalk in a neighborhood neither of you knew, with your mascara running, his shirt soaked, your bare feet in a puddle, and his hands cupping your face like you were something precious and terrifyingly impossible to let go of. It was long — longer than any kiss you'd imagined, longer than any kiss in any movie, long enough that the rain had time to trace paths down both your faces and pool where your lips met, and the cold became irrelevant because his mouth was warm and his hands were warm and the whole world was cold and wet and none of it mattered, none of it existed. Nothing existed except the pressure of his lips, the steadiness of his grip, and the way your hands found the front of his shirt and held on the way you'd been wanting to hold on for months, fingers twisting into the wet fabric, pulling him closer, closer, because if this was the only real thing then you were going to make it as real as possible, you were going to press every ounce of everything you'd been carrying into the space between your mouths and hope it was enough.
When you broke apart, slowly, reluctantly, the way people separate when the air they share is more necessary than the air around them, he didn't go far. His forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and uneven on your rain-cold skin, his thumbs brushing the remnants of mascara from your cheeks with a gentleness that made your chest ache in a completely different way than it had been aching all night. Then he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead — a seal, a promise, a full stop on a sentence that had been running for months. Then he took your hand, raised it to his lips, and pressed a soft kiss to your palm, the kind of kiss that wasn't about passion but about tenderness, about treating a part of you that had swept floors, held rags, carried groceries, and typed lab reports as though it was worthy of being kissed.
"Let's head back now to the car," he said quietly, his voice still rough, still raw, but steadier now, anchored.
You looked down at yourself, drenched, barefoot, skirt heavy with water, hair plastered to your neck, and then at him, equally soaked, shirt clinging, shoes squelching, the both of you looking like you'd climbed out of a lake, and you let out a small, watery, almost-laugh. "We're both soaking wet, Jay."
He looked at you, and the corner of his mouth lifted, that same easy, warm, real smile, the one that was only yours, and he said, "It's okay. You're acting like I can't handle some wet ass car seat. It's all good."
You laughed. An actual laugh, small, broken, wet, and still trembling with the aftershocks of everything, but real, and he smiled wider, and he kept your hand in his as he walked you back to the car through the rain, and the car seat did get wet, but it didn't matter at all.
Jay drove you back to his condominium unit. He didn't ask, he just told you. The car was still humming with the aftershocks of everything that had just happened on that sidewalk, the rain still hammering the windshield, your bare feet still cold and your skirt still heavy and the taste of him still faint and electric on your lips, when he glanced at you and said, simply, "You're staying at mine tonight." Not a question. Not an offer. A statement, delivered with the same quiet certainty he used when he told you to order what you actually wanted at the diner, the same certainty he used when he picked up your bag without asking, the same certainty that had been steadily, silently eroding every wall you'd built since the day you'd said deal in that study room.
"Jay, I—"
"You're wet. You're barefoot. Your roommate went home for the weekend, right?" He already knew the answer, you'd mentioned it earlier in the week, in passing, one of those small facts that Jay collected and stored and retrieved at exactly the moment they became relevant. "I'm not letting you walk back to an empty dorm soaking wet in the rain. You'll get sick. End of discussion."
You wanted to argue. Some part of you, the stubborn, self-sufficient part that had raised itself on the principle that you didn't need anyone to take care of you, wanted to say I'm fine, I can handle it, I've handled worse. But that part was small and tired and waterlogged, and the part of you that had just said I love you out loud for the first time was larger and louder and didn't have the energy to pretend anymore. So you nodded, a small, quiet nod, and you pulled your knees up onto the seat, looking out the window and you let him drive you home.
His home. The word didn't feel as foreign as it should have.
The journey up to his unit was funny, in the way that things are funny when they're happening to you and you're too exhausted to feel embarrassed about them yet. The lobby of his condominium was quiet at this hour, late enough that the ambient music had been turned down to a whisper and the marble floors reflected only the warm glow of the recessed lighting and the silence had that particular, hushed quality of spaces that were usually full but were currently holding their breath. You walked in behind Jay, your bare feet leaving wet prints on the polished floor, your ruined satin skirt dripping a small trail behind you like a sad, glamorous snail, your mascara still smeared under your eyes in a way that made you look vaguely like a raccoon who'd had a very bad night. Jay was no better, his shirt was plastered to his torso, his hair was flattened against his forehead in dark, wet spikes, and his shoes made a squelching sound with every step that echoed through the lobby like someone repeatedly stepping on a sponge.
The woman behind the front desk, the same one who'd greeted you with "Welcome back, Mr. Park, and guest" all those months ago, looked up as you both passed. Her eyes traveled from Jay's soaked shirt to your bare feet to the dark mascara tracks on your cheeks to the way Jay's hand was resting on the small of your back, and her expression underwent a very specific, very readable journey: first confusion, then assessment, then a slow, knowing crinkle at the corners of her eyes, and finally a smile, warm, private, the kind of smile people reserve for things they find genuinely endearing. She didn't say anything to you, but as you passed the desk, you heard her mutter under her breath, quiet enough that she probably thought you couldn't hear but you could, you absolutely could: "Lovebirds, how cute." And then a small, fond exhale, the way someone sighs at a movie scene that hits a little too close to home.
Jay didn't hear it. He was already guiding you toward the elevator, his hand still warm against your back even through the wet fabric. But you heard it, and something about it, the casual certainty of it, the way this stranger looked at the two of you, dripping, ruined, and walking through a lobby at midnight, and saw love before she saw mess, made your throat tighten in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.
You showered first. Jay handed you a towel and pointed you toward the bathroom and said "take your time, the water pressure's ridiculous" and you stood under the shower for longer than you needed to, letting the hot water undo what the cold rain had done, watching the mascara swirl down the drain in grey and black ribbons, pressing your forehead against the tile and breathing and breathing and breathing. When you turned the water off and reached for the towel, you realized the problem. Your undergarments. Your bra, your underwear, the ones you'd worn under, the ones you'd chosen specifically because they didn't show lines, were wet. Soaking, thoroughly, irreversibly wet, the rain having penetrated every layer you'd been wearing, and you hadn't brought a change of clothes because you'd come to Jay’s house to have dinner with his parents, not to sleep over, not to plan for a rain-soaked confession and a kiss on a stranger's sidewalk and a night that had gone so far off-script that the script was now a distant memory. You wrapped the towel around yourself and cracked the bathroom door open and called out, "Jay?"
He appeared a moment later, still damp, having changed into dry sweats and a t-shirt, his hair sticking up in that way it did when he'd toweled it off without looking in a mirror. "Yeah?"
"I, um. I don't have—my undergarments are wet. Everything's wet. I didn't exactly pack an overnight bag."
He stared at you for a second, then his face did something, a quick flicker of oh followed by that familiar, faint flush that crept along his cheekbones whenever the conversation veered into territory that reminded him you were, in fact, a person with a body, and that that body currently existed on the other side of a towel. He cleared his throat. "Right. Yeah. Of course. Hold on."
He disappeared and came back with his arms full, an oversized grey hoodie, soft and worn from many washes, the kind of hoodie that had lived in his closet long enough to carry the shape of his shoulders; a pair of red plaid boxers, clean, folded, the fabric soft and slightly faded; a pair of thick socks, the kind meant for hardwood floors in winter; and a pair of slippers he handed you with a slightly sheepish expression. "These are a little big. I never really wear them—they were a gift, my aunt bought them thinking I'd use them around the unit but they don't fit right and I keep forgetting to throw them out. They're clean, though. I promise."
You took the pile from him, and the hoodie was warm from being in a drawer near the heating vent, and it smelled like his laundry detergent, that same clean, woody scent that his whole condominium carried, the scent that meant safe before your brain had consciously decided it meant anything at all. You closed the bathroom door, dropped the towel, and put everything on. The hoodie hung past your hips, the sleeves falling well beyond your wrists, the neckline wide enough that it slipped slightly off one shoulder. The boxers sat loose around your waist, the plaid pattern absurd and comfortable. The socks were thick and warm and the slippers were, as promised, a little big, your feet sliding slightly when you walked, and you looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror, mascara-free, hair wet, drowning in a grey hoodie and red plaid boxers that belonged to the boy you loved, who loved you back, and you thought: this is the most myself I've ever looked.
When you opened the bathroom door, the steam followed you out into the hallway. Jay was standing right there, waiting, a towel draped over his shoulder and a smaller one in his hand, the hair towel, you realized, when he gestured for you to come closer.
"Come here," he said, and you did, walking toward him in your oversized slippers, and he guided you to sit on the edge of the couch, and then he stood behind you and began drying your hair with the smaller towel, his hands working the fabric through your damp strands with a gentleness that made your eyes prickle. You'd never had anyone dry your hair before. It was such a small thing, a nothing thing, a functional thing, and yet the intimacy of it was staggering, the careful way his fingers moved through the wet, the way he'd occasionally pause to squeeze a section between the towel and his palm, the way he'd brush a strand away from your neck and his fingertips would graze your skin and send a small, involuntary shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
"My eyes still hurt," you whined, pressing the heels of your palms against your closed eyelids, and the whine came out small and childish and genuinely pitiful because they did hurt, you'd cried so hard on that sidewalk that your eyelids were swollen and raw and every blink felt like sandpaper. "They're all puffy and gross."
Jay giggled, a bright, surprised sound, the kind that escaped him before he could catch it, and you could hear the smile in it, the unguarded warmth of it, and you wanted to be annoyed that he was laughing at your suffering but the sound was so genuinely, infectiously happy that you couldn't even muster the indignation.
"They're not gross," he said, still working the towel through your hair, his voice soft with amusement. "You're just having a reaction to being dramatically beautiful in the rain for ten minutes. It's a known side effect."
"Dramatically beautiful?" You lifted your head slightly. "I looked like a swamp creature."
"Mm, a very pretty swamp creature," he corrected, and you could hear the grin, and you groaned and slumped back against his abdomen and he laughed again, and the sound of it traveled through his chest and into your spine and settled there, warm and constant, and you thought: I could live in this sound.
He finished drying your hair after a few more minutes, the dampness reduced to a soft, manageable weight that would air-dry the rest of the way. He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I'm gonna go wash up. Make yourself comfortable, there's water in the fridge, extra blankets in the closet, and the TV remote is—somewhere under the couch cushions, I always lose it."
You nodded, and he disappeared down the hallway toward the bathroom, and you heard the shower turn on, and then you were alone. The condominium was quiet, that rich, expensive quiet that big spaces produced, the kind that felt like being wrapped in something soft. You sat on the couch for a moment, your knees pulled up to your chest inside the oversized hoodie, the slippers half-off your feet, the towel still draped over your shoulders.
Then you got up. You didn't mean to go looking for him, you were just restless, your body still humming with the residual electricity of the evening, your skin still remembering the rain, the kiss, and his hands on your face, and walking felt like the only thing to do with all that leftover voltage. You padded down the hallway in your too-big slippers, past the kitchen, past the closet with the extra blankets, past the bathroom where the shower was still running, and you found his bedroom.
The door was open. The room was dim, just the lamp on the nightstand, a warm amber glow that made the bed and the bookshelf and the guitar propped in the corner look like they belonged in a painting rather than a real person's life. And there was Jay, seated in the comfortable lounge chair in the corner, the one with the deep cushion and the angled back that faced the window, the one you'd seen him sit in before when he was reading or thinking or absentmindedly strumming chords on his guitar without plugging it in. He was still in his sweats and t-shirt, his own hair damp and finger-combed back, his legs stretched out, his phone abandoned on the armrest, and he looked up when you appeared in the doorway, and the look on his face, open, warm, a little tired, completely yours, made your breath catch.
You walked in. Your slippers made a soft, shuffling sound on the hardwood. You didn't say anything, you didn't know what to say, your voice having apparently used up its entire vocabulary on that sidewalk and now sitting empty and quiet in your throat. You just walked toward him, slowly, your hands finding the front pocket of the hoodie and burying themselves inside it, and you stopped a few feet from the chair, and you looked at him, and he looked at you, and the air in the room felt thick and warm and charged with something neither of you had named yet but both of you could feel pressing against your skin.
Then, without warning, without a word, without a question, without anything except the quiet, certain movement of his hands, Jay reached out and pulled you onto his lap.
It was smooth, the kind of movement that looked effortless but required a specific kind of confidence, a specific kind of certainty that the person being pulled wanted to be there. His hands found your waist inside the hoodie, his fingers closing around the fabric and the warmth underneath, and he drew you forward and down until you were settled across his thighs, your knees on either side of his hips, the hoodie riding up slightly where his hands gripped it, the red plaid boxers hidden beneath the grey fabric. Your hands landed on his shoulders, the only place they could go, and you were close, closer than ever before because this was a different kind of closeness, the kind that wasn't born from desperation or confession but from choice, from the simple, deliberate act of being exactly where you wanted to be.
His hands stayed on your waist. His eyes stayed on yours. The lamp cast shadows across his face, highlighting the slope of his nose and the sharpness of his jaw and the way his pupils had darkened, blown wide, the amber glow reflected in them like small fires. Neither of you spoke. The room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing and his breathing and the distant, low hum of the city beyond the window, and the silence wasn't awkward, heavy, or uncertain — it was full, the way silence is full when it's holding something that words would only diminish.
You sat there, on his lap, in his hoodie, in his boxers, in his slippers that had fallen off your feet somewhere between the doorway and the chair, and his hands were warm through the fabric, and his heart was beating fast against your chest, and the night was still raining outside, and you were exactly where you were supposed to be.
"If there's something horrendous on my face you should tell me and stop staring like that."
The words came out softer than you intended, barely more than a whisper, because the way Jay was looking at you right now made it difficult to breathe properly, let alone speak at full volume. His eyes were dark, not the warm amber-brown they'd been over dinner or the soft, fond shade they'd taken on while drying your hair, but something deeper, something hungrier, the color of burnt honey held over a flame, and they were fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse stutter and your thighs press instinctively tighter around his hips.
He didn't answer right away. His thumbs, which had been resting idle against your waist, began to move — slow, deliberate strokes along the curve of your hips through the hoodie, his fingers pressing into the fabric just hard enough that you could feel the warmth of each individual fingertip through the worn cotton, and every point of contact lit up like a switch being flipped somewhere beneath your skin.
"There's nothing horrendous on your face," he said finally, and his voice had dropped, lower than you'd ever heard it, a rough, quiet thing that seemed to vibrate through the pads of his fingers and into your bones. "I'm staring because you're in my clothes and it's making me lose my mind."
A startled laugh escaped you, breathy and nervous. "It's just a hoodie—"
"It's not just a hoodie." His grip tightened fractionally, his fingers curling into the fabric at your hips, and the slight, possessive pressure of it sent a sharp thrill skating down your spine. "You're sitting on my lap in my clothes, smelling like me, looking like that, and you're asking me why I'm staring?" He exhaled, a short, almost-laugh that was more breath than sound. "You're killing me."
The laugh that had been building in your throat dissolved into something else, something warmer and less certain, and you became acutely aware of how close his face was to yours, close enough that you could see the faint water droplets still clinging to the ends of his hair, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his exhale ghosting across your chin, close enough that the distance between his mouth and yours had become a question that neither of you had asked yet but both of you were waiting to answer.
You answered it.
It wasn't planned. It wasn't a decision made by the rational, thinking part of your brain. It was gravity, pure and simple, the same force that had pulled you into his lap and pulled you to this condominium and pulled those three words out of your mouth on a rain-soaked sidewalk, your body leaning forward, your fingers tightening on his shoulders, and your mouth finding his with a certainty that surprised you both.
Jay made a sound against your lips, a low, sharp inhale through his nose, and then his hands were sliding from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you forward, pressing you closer, and he was kissing you back with a fervor that made the kiss on the sidewalk feel like a prelude, a rough draft, a sketch compared to this, the final, full-color rendering, all the detail and depth and texture filled in at once. His mouth was warm, sure, and unhurried despite the urgency thrumming beneath it, his lips moving against yours with a precision that suggested he'd been thinking about this exact thing for longer than he'd ever admit, mapping out the pressure, the angle, and the way his lower lip fit between yours, and the deliberateness of it, the care of it, was so fundamentally him that it made something in your chest crack open and spill warmth through your entire body.
Your fingers climbed from his shoulders into his hair, threading through the damp strands, and the sound he made in response, a muted, rough “fuck” breathed against your mouth, sent a jolt of electricity straight down your center. You tugged lightly, experimentally, and his head tilted back. His breath stuttered and his fingers dug into your back through the hoodie hard enough that you knew his fingerprints would be embedded onto your skin, and the thought of that, of wearing his fingerprints beneath his hoodie, made you press into him harder, made the kiss deeper, made your tongue slide against his with a desperation that surprised you.
He responded instantly. One hand left your back and came up to cup the side of your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, tilting your head just slightly, and the new angle made everything sharper, more intense, the slide of his tongue against yours sending sparks skittering down your nerve endings like lit matches dropped on dry kindling. His other hand stayed pressed into the small of your back, keeping you flush against him, and you could feel his heart hammering against your chest, or maybe that was yours, or maybe it was both of them beating in tandem like they'd been doing it forever and were only now acknowledging the rhythm.
You shifted on his lap, adjusting your weight, your knees tightening against the outside of his thighs, and the movement pressed your hips down against his in a way that made you both freeze. The sound that escaped you was small and involuntary, a half-swallowed whimper that vibrated against his lips, and the sound he made was worse, or better, depending on perspective — a low, guttural groan that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest and traveled through his body into yours like a seismic event.
"Don't—" His voice was fractured, barely coherent, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath coming ragged and hot against your swollen lips. "Don't move like that if you're not—fuck—if you're not planning to follow through, because I—"
You moved again. Deliberately this time, not an adjustment but a choice, your hips rolling forward in a slow, deliberate grind that pressed the heat between your thighs against the unmistakable hardness that had developed beneath the fabric of his sweats. The friction, the pressure, the feeling of him solid and insistent against you even through layers of clothing, pulled a moan from your throat that you didn't recognize as your own voice.
"Shit—" Jay's head fell back against the chair, his neck corded, his jaw clenched, his eyes squeezed shut for a single, trembling moment before they opened again and fixed on you with a look so raw, so unguarded, so full of want that it made your stomach clench and your breath come short. His hands slid down from your back to your hips, fingers spread wide, and he held you there, held you against him, and he didn't stop you when you moved again.
The dry grinding started slowly, almost tentatively, your hips finding a rhythm against his that was more instinct than experience, more feeling than technique. The seam of the boxers you were wearing, his boxers, dragged against you in a way that sent sharp, stuttering pulses of pleasure through your core with every movement, and the angle of it, the way his body was positioned beneath you, meant that every roll of your hips pressed you directly against the length of him, hard, thick, and impossible to ignore through the thin cotton of his sweats. You could feel the shape of him, the heat of him, and the knowledge that you were doing that, that you were the reason the campus heartthrob was hard, breathless, and gripping your hips like you were the only solid thing in a spinning room, sent a fresh wave of arousal pooling between your thighs so quickly it almost embarrassed you.
"Jay—" His name came out broken, half-moaned, and you didn't even know what you were asking for, only that the friction wasn't enough anymore, only that the fabric between you was a barrier that your body was increasingly desperate to dissolve.
"I know," he breathed, and his hands flexed on your hips, guiding you, easing you into a slower, deeper grind that made you both gasp. "I know, baby, I know."
Baby. The word hit you like a physical thing, warm and weighted, and the way he said it, rough and reverent, like it had been sitting on his tongue for weeks waiting for permission to come out, made your hips stutter and your fingers tighten in the fabric of his t-shirt and a small, needy sound escape your lips that you couldn't have stopped if you'd tried.
"You feel so good," you whispered, and the admission came easier than it should have, your inhibitions eroded by the haze of sensation and the certainty that the boy beneath you was someone who would catch every vulnerable thing you dropped. "Mmgh, Jay, you feel—god, you feel so big."
A strangled sound escaped him, half-laugh, half-groan, and his hands slid from your hips to your ass, palms covering the curve of you through the hoodie, fingers pressing into the plush softness with a grip that made your breath hitch and your spine arch. "You can't just—fuck—you can't just say things like that to me—"
"It's true," you breathed, rolling your hips again, slower, feeling every inch of him against you, and the words tumbled out without permission, fueled by the way his fingers were kneading your ass through the fabric with a desperation that matched your own. "You're so hard, Jay, I can feel all of you and you're so—"
He kissed you to shut you up, or maybe because he couldn't not kiss you, his mouth crashing into yours with a hunger that made the previous kisses feel like polite suggestions, his tongue sliding against yours with a slick, dirty insistence that made your toes curl and your hips grind down harder and your thoughts dissolve into a warm, wanting blur. His hands were everywhere on your lower half, squeezing, gripping, pulling you against him with each roll of your hips, and the wet sounds of your kissing and the muted creak of the chair beneath you and the broken, shared breathing filled the quiet room like a symphony composed in the key of desperation.
When he pulled back, just enough to breathe, his lips were swollen and wet. His eyes were nearly black, the amber swallowed entirely by the blown-wide pupils, his chest was rising and falling with a heaviness that made you feel powerful and wrecked in equal measure. His right hand stayed on your ass, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to dimple the fabric, but his left hand moved, traveled from your hip to the front of the hoodie, fingertips tracing up your stomach through the soft cotton, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, until his hand reached the hem of the hoodie where it bunched at your waist, and his fingers slipped beneath it.
The first touch of his bare fingers against the skin of your stomach made you shiver violently, a full-body tremor that had nothing to do with cold and everything to do with the way his hand was warm, moving downward with a slowness that was almost cruel. His fingertips traced the line of your waistband, his waistband, the plaid boxers, the fabric you were wearing because everything you owned was soaked through, ruined, and the only thing standing between his hand and the place you needed it most was a thin, faded layer of cotton that he'd bought at a store months ago and never thought would be worn by anyone but himself.
"Can I?" His voice was barely a whisper, rough and low, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath mixing with yours in the small space between your faces. His hand had stilled just above the hem of the boxers, his fingertips resting against the bare skin of your lower belly, and the question was so gentle, so Jay, even now, even with his other hand still gripping your ass, his hardness still pressing against you, and his breathing still ragged with want, he was still asking, still making sure, still putting your comfort above his own desperation, and the tenderness of it made your eyes sting, your heart clench, and your hips can’t forward into his palm in an answer that was more honest than words could ever be.
"Yes," you breathed. "Please, yes."
His hand slipped beneath the waistband.
The first brush of his fingers against you made a sharp, keening sound rip from your throat that you'd never made before, a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than your lungs, somewhere primal and wanting and utterly unguarded. Jay groaned in response, a low, broken sound, and his fingers pressed more firmly against the damp fabric, feeling the wetness that had nothing to do with rain, and the heel of his palm ground against you and fuck—
"You're so wet," he breathed against your mouth, and the words were reverent and ragged and almost disbelieving, like he couldn't quite comprehend that he was the cause of this, that the girl on his lap was this affected by him, by his hands and his mouth and the sound of his voice saying baby like it was the only word that mattered. "God, you're so wet for me already and I've barely touched you."
"You've been touching me," you managed, and your voice was unsteady, cracked down the middle by the slow, deliberate circles his fingers were drawing against you through the thin cotton. "You've been—ah—touching me this whole time, your hands on my—on my hips, on my ass, you've been—"
"Been driving you crazy?" he finished, and there was a smile in his voice, that same quiet, knowing confidence that made you want to kiss him and kill him in equal measure, and his fingers chose that moment to hook around the elastic of your underwear and tug it aside, the first touch of his bare fingers against your bare skin made every thought in your head evaporate like mist.
He explored you slowly at first, which was somehow worse than if he'd just plunged in and gotten to it, because his fingertips traced along the slick, swollen edges of you with a meticulous attention that felt like study, like he was memorizing you, learning you, cataloging every fold and every flutter and every place that made your breath catch or your hips jerk or your fingers dig harder into his shoulders. His middle finger slid through your wetness, gathering it, spreading it, and the obscene, slick sound of it combined with the feeling of his finger moving so close to where you needed it most and yet not quite there, not quite inside, was a form of torture so exquisite you almost sobbed.
"Jay, please—"
"Please what?" His voice was silk and gravel, his finger still drawing lazy, maddening patterns along your entrance, dipping just barely inside before retreating, a cruel, tantalizing hint of what was to come. "Use that pretty mouth for me, baby."
"I want—I want your fingers inside me, please, I need—"
He gave you what you wanted.
One finger slid inside, slow and deep and deliberate, and the stretch of it, the intrusion, the feeling of him entering you for the first time in any capacity, made your mouth fall open, your eyes squeeze shut, and a sound escape your throat that was somewhere between a moan and a cry. He was inside you, his finger, just one, but the girth of it, the length, the way it curled slightly as it pressed to the hilt, was enough to make your walls clench around him reflexively and your hips grind down against his hand seeking more, more, because one wasn't enough, not when you could feel how much more he had to give.
"Mmgh, that's it, baby," he groaned against your jaw, his lips brushing the skin there, his breath hot and unsteady. "Clench around me like the good girl you are."
The phrase hit you like a freight train. Good girl. Two words, spoken in that low, rough voice, with his finger inside you and his other hand still gripping your ass like he owned it, and you felt a fresh pulse of wetness coat his finger and your walls clamp down around him so hard that he hissed through his teeth and his own hips bucked up involuntarily beneath you.
"You like that," he observed, and it wasn't a question, and the quiet certainty in his voice, the way he'd clocked exactly what those words did to you and filed it away for future use, made you whine high and needy in the back of your throat. "You like when I tell you how good you're being for me."
"I like—I like everything you do," you gasped, and it was the most honest thing you'd ever said, because his finger was moving inside you now, curling and pressing and finding a spot that made your vision white out at the edges, your thighs tremble against his, and his thumb had found your clit and was drawing tight, devastating circles around it that made coherent thought impossible. "I like—oh god—I like you, I like your hands, I like—"
"Mm, like my fingers inside you?" His voice was filth, pure filth, spoken against the shell of your ear, and the warmth of his breath, the obscenity of the words, and the feeling of a second finger joining the first made your whole body seize and arch and press into his hand with a desperation that bordered on mindless.
Two fingers. The stretch was significant now, the girth of two of his fingers pressing into you, spreading you open, and the fullness of it, the pressure, the way his fingers moved in tandem, curling, thrusting, grinding against the spot inside you that made stars scatter behind your eyelids, was so overwhelmingly good that the sounds you were making weren't even words anymore, just a stream of whimpers and moans and broken syllables that spilled from your lips without your permission or your awareness. Your tongue was out, just slightly, your mouth open, your breathing ragged and wet and audible, and you were riding his hand now, your hips moving of their own accord, grinding down against his fingers, chasing the pleasure, and every roll of your hips pressed your ass into the grip of his other hand, which was squeezing and pulling you apart with a fervor that made you feel desired in a way you'd never felt before, like you were something precious, filthy, and his.
"You're so wet and so tight," he groaned, his fingers pumping into you with a steadiness that contradicted the tremor in his voice, the crack in his composure. "Squeeze me tight, baby, just like that—fuck—just like that, you're doing so good, you feel so fucking good—"
"I feel—you feel—" You couldn't finish the sentence, your brain unable to string together enough words to express the overwhelming, consuming, devastating pleasure of his fingers inside you, his thumb on your clit, his other hand on your ass, and his voice in your ear saying things that would make your past self combust with embarrassment and your present self drip with more arousal onto his already-soaked fingers. "Jay—ugh—Jay, please, I need—I need more, I need you, I need—"
"You need me?" His fingers slowed, just slightly, and his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes finding yours, and the look in them was so intense, so burning, so full of love and lust and something fierce and protective that it stole the air from your lungs. "You need me where, baby? Tell me."
"Inside me," you whispered, and the words came out trembling and true and stripped of every layer of pretense you'd ever worn. "Not your fingers. I need—I need your cock inside me. Please."
Something in Jay's expression fractured. You watched it happen, watched the last thread of his restraint snap like a guitar string pulled too tight, watched his jaw clench and his nostrils flare and his eyes darken to something feral and desperate, and then his fingers withdrew from you, dragging through your wetness, leaving you empty and aching. Both hands came to your hips, gripping hard, steadying you, and he stood up from the chair in one fluid motion, lifting you with him, your legs wrapping around his waist, your arms locking around his neck, and he carried you the four steps to the bed and laid you down on the mattress with a gentleness that was almost incongruous with the hunger in his eyes.
He stood over you for a moment, just looking, his chest heaving, his hair falling across his forehead in damp, messy strands, his sweats tented obscenely, and the visual of him, this boy, this man, who you'd watched from across lecture halls and sat beside in study rooms and fake-dated for months, looking down at you like you were the only thing in the world worth seeing, made you reach for him with both hands, your fingers closing around the hem of his t-shirt and tugging.
"Come here," you said, and your voice was wrecked and breathless.
He came. He stripped his t-shirt over his head in one swift motion and dropped it somewhere — floor, chair, another dimension, you didn't care, couldn't care, because his chest was bare, his abdomen was lean and toned, his skin was glowing warm in the lamplight, and then he was climbing over you, his knees bracketing your hips, his hands on either side of your head, and he was kissing you again, deep and dirty and consuming, his bare chest pressing against the hoodie, and you could feel his heart pounding against yours, or yours against his, or both, both, both.
"Wait," he said against your mouth, and he pulled back just enough to look down at you, at the hoodie, at his hoodie stretched across your body, the fabric that carried his scent and his shape and now you inside of it, and something in his expression went soft and hungry and utterly undone. "You have no idea what you look like right now."
"I look like I'm wearing your clothes—"
"You look like you're mine," he said, and the word came out rough and low and proprietary in a way that should have made your feminist sensibilities bristle but instead made lava flood through your veins and pool molten and insistent between your legs. "You look like you belong to me, and I've never—god—I've never been so horny for anyone the way I am for you right now. The way I've been for you this whole time. Every time you wore my jacket, every time you pulled it around yourself and it swallowed you whole and you looked at me from inside it like you were safe there—I wanted to put you on every flat surface I could find and—"
"Then do it," you interrupted, breathless, bold, your hands sliding down his bare chest, feeling the heat and the firmness and the slight tremor of his muscles beneath your palms. "Stop telling me and show me."
His breath hitched. His eyes searched yours for a single, electric second, and then he was kissing you again, and his hands were on the hoodie, pushing it up, his fingers sliding beneath the fabric and finding your bare waist and climbing higher, higher, until his palms covered your breasts, the feeling of his warm, slightly rough hands cupping you, squeezing gently, his thumbs tracing the swell of you above the cups, made you arch into his touch with a whine that vibrated against his lips.
"Off," he said against your mouth, and it took you a confused moment to realize he was talking about the hoodie, and then his hands were gripping the hem and pulling it up, and you lifted your arms and let him peel it off you, the soft grey fabric sliding over your head and your arms and joining his t-shirt on the floor, and the cool air of the room hit your bare skin for exactly one second before his mouth was on you, his lips pressing to your collarbone, your chest, your breasts, and his hands were everywhere, warm and big and eager, kneading and caressing and exploring the territory they'd been denied for months with a thoroughness that left you gasping and trembling and threading your fingers through his hair and holding on.
"Loved you in the hoodie," he murmured against your sternum, his breath hot and damp, his lips dragging across your skin between words. "Love you out of it, too. Love you every way you come. I want you every way you'll let me have you."
"Have me," you breathed. "All of me. Every—ah—every way."
His hands were on your bare breasts, palming them, cupping them, his thumbs dragging across your nipples with a slow, firm pressure that sent lightning bolts of pleasure shooting straight down your body to the place where you were wet and swollen and desperate and aching, and you were making sounds again. You couldn't stop making sounds, couldn't stop the whimpers and the moans and the small, keening ah, ah, ahs that fell from your lips every time his thumbs circled or his fingers squeezed or his mouth dipped down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to the curve of your breast. Your back was arched, your hips were grinding against nothing, seeking friction, seeking him, and the desperation of it, the mindlessness of it, would have embarrassed you if you had any capacity for embarrassment left, but you didn't, you'd left it on that sidewalk in the rain along with every wall you'd ever built.
"Jay, please," you gasped, your hands fumbling with the waistband of his sweats, your fingers clumsy and urgent and trembling. "I need you, I need you inside me, I can't—please—"
He pulled back just enough to look at you, and the sight of you, bare from the waist up, your chest heaving, your lips swollen, your eyes glazed with want, wearing nothing but his red plaid boxers, made him exhale shakily and press his forehead against yours and whisper, "You're going to be the death of me, you know that?"
"Then die happy," you managed, and he laughed, even in the middle of this, even with his cock straining against his sweats, his hands on your bare breasts, your fingers in his waistband, and the sound was so warm and so him that it made your heart ache even as your body burned.
He stood, just for a moment, and pushed his sweats and boxers down in one motion, and then he was bare before you, fully bare, and the sight of him, all of him, the lean lines of his hips and the firm planes of his abdomen and his cock, hard and thick and curving slightly upward toward his stomach, the tip flushed and glistening, made your mouth go dry and your breath catch and a single, overwhelmed thought crystallize in the haze of your desire: who knew the campus heartthrob had such a big dick?
You'd imagined, of course. You were only human, and Jay was — well, Jay, and the rumors that circulated through campus gossip were as persistent as they were impossible to verify, and you'd filed them away under "things that were none of your business" even during the weeks when your business and his had become increasingly entangled. But the reality of him, the generous length, the substantial girth, and the way it twitched under your gaze, the tip leaking a bead of moisture that caught the amber lamplight, it exceeded every rumor, every imagined scenario, every late-night thought you'd dismissed as wishful thinking the morning after.
"You're staring," he said, and there was a smile in his voice, that same quiet, confident smile, but there was vulnerability underneath it too, the vulnerability of someone exposing himself, in every sense, to the person whose opinion mattered most.
"I'm appreciating," you corrected, and your voice was hoarse and your eyes were still fixed on him, and you reached out, your fingers wrapping around him, and the sound he made, a sharp, strangled gasp, his hips jerking forward involuntarily into your grip, was the single most intoxicating thing you'd ever heard. "You're—mm, Jay, you're really—you're so—"
"Stop," he breathed, but it wasn't a command, it was a plea, his jaw clenched and his eyes squeezed shut and his hands gripping the edge of the mattress on either side of your hips like he was holding on for dear life. "If you keep talking and touching me like that I'm not going to last long enough to—"
"Then don't make me wait," you whispered, and you released him and reached for him instead, your hands finding his shoulders and pulling him down toward you, and he came willingly, eagerly, his body covering yours, his weight settling between your thighs, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that was gentler than the moment called for, slower, like he was trying to memorize the shape of your lips the same way he'd memorized everything else about you.
He shifted your positions then, his hands on your hips, guiding you, and you understood without being told, he wanted you on top. He settled back against the pillows, his head on the cushioned headboard, his hands on your waist, and he looked up at you with those dark, burning eyes and said, "I want to see you. I want to watch you. I want you to take what you need."
Your heart stuttered. Your hands were trembling as you straddled him, your knees on either side of his hips, the red plaid boxers still loose around your thighs, and you hooked your thumbs under the elastic of both, his boxers and yours, and tugged them down just enough, just far enough, and the cool air hit the slick, swollen heat of you and you shivered. Then you were positioned above him, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, and the anticipation of it, the size of it, made your breath come short and your fingers dig into his shoulders.
"Slow," he said, his hands steady on your hips, steadying you, grounding you. "As slow as you need. I've got you."
You sank down.
The first inch made you both gasp, you at the stretch, the overwhelming fullness of him pressing into you, the girth spreading you open wider than his fingers had prepared you for; him at the wet, tight heat of you wrapping around the most sensitive part of him, the clench of your walls drawing a broken, guttural “fuck” from his throat that seemed to come from the soles of his feet. You paused, breathing through it, adjusting, and his hands rubbed slow circles into your hips, his thumbs tracing the crease where your thighs met your hips, so patient even though you could see the strain in his jaw and the tendons in his neck and the way his knuckles were white with the effort of not grabbing you and pulling you down the rest of the way.
"More," you breathed, and you lowered yourself another inch, and another, and the stretch was intense, almost too much, the kind of fullness that bordered on pain and pleasure in equal measure, and your face must have shown it because Jay's hand came up to your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone, his voice coming out soft and concerned beneath the raw need.
"You okay? We can stop, we can—"
"Don’t stop," you said fiercely, and you dropped your hips the rest of the way, taking all of him, and the sound that ripped from your throat was something between a scream and a moan, loud, broken, and utterly beyond your control, and the sound that echoed from his was its mirror — a raw, shuddering groan that vibrated through his chest and into yours, his head thrown back against the headboard, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough that you knew there would be bruises shaped like his hands tomorrow, and you would press each one in the mirror and remember this moment.
Full. You were so full, impossibly, overwhelmingly full, stretched to your limit around him, and he was big, bigger than you'd even thought from looking, because looking and feeling were two entirely different universes of experience, and the feeling of him inside you, the heat and the hardness and the way your walls clenched and fluttered and tried to accommodate the intrusion, was so much, too much, exactly enough. You stayed still for a moment, both of you breathing, both of you adjusting, both of you existing in the space between anticipation and motion where the world narrows to a single point of connection.
Then you moved.
You lifted your hips, slow, feeling every inch of him sliding against your inner walls, the drag of him exquisite and maddening, and then you sank back down, and the angle pressed him against that spot inside you, that spot, the one his fingers had found earlier, the one that made your eyes roll and your breath stutter and a high, keening whine escape your lips, and the pleasure was so sharp, so blinding, so sudden that your body acted before your brain could intervene. You bounced again, faster, harder, chasing that feeling, and the sound of your bodies meeting, the slick, wet slap of skin against skin, the obscene squelch of him moving inside your wetness, filled the room alongside the symphony of your shared moans.
"Fuck—" Jay's voice was shattered, breathless, his hands gripping your hips but letting you set the pace, letting you ride him, letting you use him for your pleasure, and the sight of you above him, bare and lost in it, your head thrown back, your lips parted, your breasts bouncing with every movement, was unraveling him from the inside out. "You feel so fucking good, you're so—god, you're so tight, you're squeezing me so hard, baby—"
"I can't help it," you gasped, and you couldn't, your walls were clenching around him involuntarily with every thrust, every grind, every time he hit that spot that made your brain short-circuit, and the clenching made him groan and the groaning made you clench harder and the feedback loop of it was driving you both toward an edge that was coming too fast and not fast enough. "You're so—you're so big, Jay, I can feel you so deep, you're hitting—ah—you're hitting right there, right there, don't stop, please don't—"
"I'm not stopping," he growled, and his hands moved from your hips to your breasts, palming them, squeezing them, his thumbs dragging across your nipples with a firm, deliberate pressure that sent shockwaves of pleasure cascading through your body, converging with the pleasure building between your thighs, and the combined sensation was so overwhelming that you barely registered the shift in his posture until his arm was around your neck.
Not choking, never choking, you trusted him with your life and your body and every fragile thing you'd ever held, but holding, his bicep curling around the side of your neck, his forearm resting along your collarbone, his hand coming to cup the opposite shoulder, and the position, the possessiveness of it, the intimacy of it, the way it pressed your body flush against his chest and kept you close and controlled and his, made something wild, needy, and desperate claw its way up from the pit of your stomach and out through your mouth in a long, shuddering whine that you muffled against the side of his neck.
"I've got you," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and damp, his voice a low, devastating rumble that you felt in your bones, and his hips snapped up to meet yours, and the new angle, the new depth, the new force of him driving into you from below made you sob against his skin. "I've got you, baby, I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere—you feel so good wrapped around me like this, so fucking good, taking me so well—"
"Jay—" His name was a plea and the only word left in your vocabulary, repeated over and over against the warm skin of his neck between wet, open-mouthed kisses and whimpers and the small, helpless sounds that were being fucked out of you with every thrust. "Jay, Jay, Jay—you feel so good, you make me feel so good, I've never—I've never felt like this, you're so deep, you're so—oh god—you're so big, how are you so—fuck—"
"Yeah?" His voice was gravel and fire against your ear, and his arm tightened fractionally around your neck, just enough to make your head spin and your body sing, and his hips pistoned up into you with a rhythm that was losing its steadiness, becoming rougher, more desperate, more animal. "You like how big I am? You like feeling me deep inside this tight little pussy? Squeezing me so good, baby, fuck—you're gonna make me come if you keep making those sounds—"
"What sounds—" you tried to ask, but the question dissolved into a moan so filthy and so loud that you would have been mortified if you had any mortification left, but you didn't, it was all gone, burned away by the heat of him and the grip of him and the relentless, devastating pleasure of him hitting that spot inside you over and over and over until your vision was blurring. Your thighs were trembling, your fingers were clawing at his back, and your sounds — the whimpers, the moans, the broken ah ah ahs, the way your tongue was out and your mouth was open and you were practically drooling with the overwhelming, consuming, ruinous pleasure of it, were filling the room and his ear and his consciousness until there was nothing else in the world but you and him and this.
"Those sounds," he answered, his voice fractured, wrecked, barely recognizable as the composed, collected boy who'd charmed an entire campus without trying. "Those—fuck—those sweet little whines, the way you're moaning my name, the way you can't even—you can't even talk, can you? Too full of me to think, aren't you, baby?"
"Yes—" It came out as a sob, honest and raw, your forehead pressed against his neck, your body bouncing on his cock with a desperation that had abandoned all rhythm and restraint, your hips moving faster, harder, chasing the peak that was building inside you like a wave pulling away from shore, gathering size and force and inevitability. "Yes, I can't—I can't think, you feel too good, you're too —god—you're too big, you're so deep, I'm—Jay, I'm close, I'm so close—"
"Me too," he breathed, and his arm around your neck shifted, his hand moving to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair, and he held you against him, your face pressed to the junction of his neck and shoulder, his face pressed to the crown of your head, the way he was holding you like something precious even while his hips were driving into you with an intensity that bordered on savage, made your chest crack open wider than it already was, made the pleasure in your body merge with the love in your heart until they were the same thing, the same overwhelming, consuming, impossible force, and you were crying again, you realized distantly, not from sadness but from fullness, from too much, from the impossible, miraculous reality of being loved, fucked, and held all at once by the same person, by the person you loved, by the person who loved you back.
"Jay—" you whined, high and desperate. Your walls were clenching around him in rapid, involuntary pulses that signaled the approaching edge, and his hips were stuttering, his rhythm falling apart, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps against your hair. "Jay, I'm—I'm gonna—"
"Me too, baby, me too," he gasped, and his hand tightened in your hair, and his other arm wrapped around your waist, pressing you impossibly closer, deeper, his cock buried to the hilt inside you and his hips grinding up against you in tight, desperate circles that pressed against your clit with every movement. "Come for me, I've got you, come on my cock, let me feel you—"
And then, just before the wave broke, just before the edge crumbled beneath you, just before your orgasm crashed through you like a storm making landfall, he whispered it.
"I love you."
Oh my god.
Not love you. Not the shorthand version he'd been using for months, the lazy, abbreviated thing that let him say it without really saying it, that kept the I out of it, that kept the confession at arm's length where it was safe and deniable and less terrifying than the full, unedited truth. I love you. With the I. For the first time. The most important word in the sentence, the word that made it a declaration instead of a throwaway, the word that turned it from something you could brush off into something you had to catch and hold and carry with you for the rest of your life, and he said it right there, right then, with his cock inside you and his arms around you and your body on the edge of the most intense pleasure you'd ever felt, and the shock of it, the staggering, breathtaking gift of it, was what pushed you over.
You came with a cry that broke in the middle, his name and a sob tangled together into a sound that was neither and both, and your walls clenched around him in rhythmic, devastating waves that pulled and squeezed and milked him with an intensity that ripped a sound from from his chest that you'd never heard before, raw, loud, unrestrained, his head thrown back, his jaw clenched and his entire body rigid beneath you and inside you and around you, and then he was coming too, his hips jerking up into yours in erratic, desperate thrusts, his cock pulsing inside you, thick and hot and filling, and the feeling of him coming inside you, the warmth of it spreading through you, the intimacy of it, no barrier, no distance, nothing between you but skin and the shared, shuddering aftermath of something that had changed you both, made your orgasm intensify rather than fade, a second wave cresting on the heels of the first, and you were both gasping, trembling, and holding onto each other with a ferocity that suggested letting go would mean falling off the edge of the earth.
The aftershocks rolled through you in diminishing pulses, your walls still fluttering around him, his cock still twitching inside you, your bodies still pressed together from chest to hip, neither of you willing to create even an inch of distance. The room was quiet except for your breathing and the rain against the window, which had never stopped, which had been the soundtrack to the entire night from sidewalk to confession to this, this moment, this bed, this body against yours, this love made physical and undeniable and real.
He was still inside you. Softening, but still there, still filling you, still connected, and the warmth of him inside you, the physical proof of what had just happened, made you squeeze around him reflexively and him hiss in oversensitive response, and the small exchange was so intimate, so coupled, that it made you press your face into his neck and breathe him in and whisper, against his pulse, "I love you too. With the I. I love y—wait, no. I love you more."
His arms tightened around you. His chest expanded with a breath that seemed to fill him entirely, a breath that had been waiting, maybe, since the first time he'd said those words without the I and wondered if you noticed the omission, and the exhale that followed was warm and slow and carried with it a tension you hadn't realized he'd been holding until it was gone.
"Mm, good," he murmured into your hair, and his voice was hoarse and raw and smiling, and the hand in your hair stroked gently, absently, the way you'd stroke something you'd been terrified of losing and were now learning you could hold. "Good. I meant it, by the way. Every time I said it before, I meant it. I just—I wasn't brave enough to include myself in the sentence."
You woke up to the smell of butter.
Not perfume-butter, not the artificial, movie-theater approximation of butter, but real butter, the kind that sizzled and popped and went golden-brown in a pan, the kind that meant someone was cooking something that would be terrible for you and perfect in every other way. Your face was pressed into a pillow, the sheets were tangled around your bare legs, and the space beside you on the mattress was empty but still warm. The amber lamp had been turned off at some point during the night and replaced by the grey-white morning light filtering through the curtains, and you lay there for a long, suspended moment with your eyes closed and your cheek against the pillowcase, breathing in, breathing out, letting the reality of the night before settle over you like a second skin.
Then the smell of butter intensified, and your stomach growled loud enough that it echoed off the headboard, and you opened your eyes.
The bedroom was soft in the morning light, quieter and less cinematic than it had been in the amber glow of the lamp, but somehow more real for it. The chair in the corner where it had all started was just a chair again. The bed was just a bed, albeit one with rumpled sheets and the clear evidence of two people who had spent the night learning each other in ways that went far beyond the physical. Your clothes, his clothes, the grey hoodie and the red plaid boxers, were folded neatly on the nightstand, and next to them was a fresh glass of water, two Advil, and a small sticky note with handwriting that made your chest ache:
Eyepatch for the puffy eyes is in the bathroom cabinet. Left side, second shelf. Take the pills. Come find me when you're ready ❤︎
You took the pills. You found the eyepatch, which turned out to be under-eye gel patches, not a pirate costume, and you pressed them under your eyes and stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror and looked exactly like what you were: a girl who had cried in the rain, confessed her love, had incredible sex, and slept in the bed of the boy who loved her back, in that order. The gel patches were cold, soothing, and you left them on while you pulled the hoodie over your head and stepped into the boxers and padded barefoot down the hallway toward the smell of butter and the sound of something sizzling.
Jay was at the stove.
He was shirtless, still in his sweats, his hair doing that thing it did in the mornings where it stuck up in the back at an angle that defied physics and dignity in equal measure, and he was holding a spatula and frowning at a pan with the concentrated intensity of someone performing neurosurgery rather than making a sandwich. The kitchen was warm and golden with natural light, and the butter was crackling, and there were two plates on the counter and a pot of tomato soup simmering on the back burner, and the scene was so unexpectedly, devastatingly domestic that you stopped in the hallway entrance and pressed your palm flat against your sternum as if you could physically hold your heart in place.
He hadn't seen you yet. He was focused on the sandwich, lifting the edge with the spatula to check the browning on the bottom, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like come on, come on, don't burn, don't you dare, and the tenderness of it, the sight of this boy, the one the entire campus tripped over themselves to get close to, standing shirtless in his kitchen at ten in the morning carefully monitoring a grilled cheese sandwich as if it were the most important task he'd ever undertaken, made something bloom in your chest so suddenly and so fully that you were moving before you decided to move.
You crossed the kitchen in five quick steps on your bare feet, rose up on your tip-toes, and pressed a kiss to the corner of his jaw.
He was actually startled, the spatula jerking, his shoulder jumping, a small whoa escaping him, and then he turned his head and saw you and the startled expression dissolved into something so warm, so open, so unguardedly happy that you rose up on your tip-toes again and kissed him properly, on the mouth, soft, slow, tasting like nothing at all except morning and him and the quiet, unbelievable joy of getting to do this.
"Hi," you said against his lips.
"Hi," he said back, and he was smiling, you could feel it, the curve of his mouth against yours, and his free hand, the one not holding the spatula, came to rest on your hip over the hoodie, his thumb tracing a small, absent circle against the fabric. "You slept late."
"You wore me out," you said, and the words came out without thinking, and then the meaning of them caught up with you and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks, and Jay's smile widened against your mouth and he pressed another kiss to the corner of your lips and said, "Nice," with such quiet, satisfied certainty that you had to bury your face in his bare shoulder to hide the fact that you were grinning like an idiot.
He finished the grilled cheese, two of them, golden, crispy, and oozing cheese from the edges, cut diagonally because, as he informed you when you raised an eyebrow, "diagonal is the correct cut, this isn't a negotiation,” and poured the tomato soup into two mugs, and you carried everything to the couch and settled into the cushions with your legs folded beneath you. The hoodie pooled around your thighs, the warm mug between your palms, and Jay sat close enough that your knees overlapped and his arm rested along the back of the couch behind you, not quite around you but undeniably there, a warm, steady presence that made the couch feel smaller and safer and more like home than any piece of furniture had a right to.
You ate. The sandwich was perfect — buttery, crunchy, the cheese pulling in long strings when you bit into it, the soup warm and rich and exactly the right thing for a morning when your body was sore in unfamiliar places, your eyes were still slightly swollen, and your heart was so full it felt like it might bruise your ribs from the inside. Jay ate his sandwich in three bites, which was both impressive and horrifying, and then he stole one of your untouched halves and ate that too, and you let him because you were too full, too content, and too busy watching the way the morning light caught the line of his jaw to summon the energy for indignation.
The TV was on but the volume was low, some morning show neither of you were watching, and Jay picked up the remote and navigated to Netflix and handed you the remote with a look that said your pick, and you scrolled. You scrolled through the usual suspects, the true crime documentaries you'd been meaning to watch, the romantic comedy that kept appearing in your recommendations with an algorithmic stubbornness that felt almost personal, the K-drama Jay pretended not to be interested in but always watched over your shoulder when you put it on, the nature documentary with the dramatic voiceover, the animated series, the cooking competition, the vintage sitcom, the new release with the ominous thumbnail, and the sheer, absurd abundance of it, the endless scroll of options that you'd never have time to watch, became its own form of entertainment, the two of you debating the merits of each option with the lazy, low-stakes passion of people who had nowhere to be and no one to impress and all the time in the world to decide.
You'd narrowed it down to three candidates when Jay's phone buzzed.
The sound was sharp and specific, the particular vibration pattern he'd set for family messages, and it cut through the comfortable haze of the morning like a pin through a soap bubble. Jay reached for the phone on the coffee table, swiped it open, and you watched his expression change, the easy, post-sleep warmth in his eyes sharpening into something more focused, his brow furrowing as he read, his jaw setting in a way you'd come to recognize as his tell for something he didn't want to deal with.
"Oh my god, you have to be kidding me," he muttered, and there was a note in his voice — not anger, exactly, but something adjacent to it, the exasperation of a person who'd just been handed an obligation he hadn't asked for and couldn't refuse.
"What's wrong?" You lowered the remote, the Netflix menu forgotten, the three candidate movies suddenly the least important thing in the world.
He turned the screen toward you.
The message was from his mother — you recognized the contact name, the formal Mom with no emoji, no affectionate modifier, just the word itself, clean and unadorned, the way Jay said she preferred most things. The text read:
Mom [10:49 AM]: Jongseong, bring Y/N to the summer estate in two weeks time. Your uncle can't make it this weekend.
And then, directly beneath it, as if the first sentence were merely logistical preamble to the real point:
Mom [10:49 AM]: If you're so serious about her, it's time the entire family met her.
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🎹 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ഒ i like me better by lauv
𝐞𝐥’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : hi again hoonguin nation !!! unfortunately i did grow attached to this fic somewhere along the way & there are still so so so many things i have yet to put 🙁 no i didn’t put them here because too much would’ve been happening already . . there’ll definitely be a part two soon because i don’t leave you guys hanging 😘
✷ NOTE : thank you all so, so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed this little world for a while ♡ all of this is purely a work of fiction & doesn’t reflect reality at all . . likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply cherished and very, very appreciated on here !
✟ 𓏼꫶ summary :: growing up, your parents taught you to only have sex after marriage, and on your wedding night, you backed up like an abandoned puppy because you were so nervous. however, your husband setting your honeymoon on a yacht with beautiful ocean view changed a few things, and it somehow made your confidence grow...
✟ 𓏼꫶ genre :: smut with small plot, marriage au, small angst, fluff
✟ 𓏼꫶ tags :: religious trauma, forced Christianity (it's not a big part of the story but it gives a little character), lots of kissing, belly bulge, breeding kink, creampie, virginity kink, fingering, reverse cowgirl, body worship, maki is obsessed with reader and reader is obsessed with maki, flirting, graphic explicit content, sex on a yacht, hair pulling, protected sex, unprotected sex (do NOT do that), p in v, rough sex, maki is possessive, virgin!reader, lmk if i missed something
✟ 𓏼꫶ wc :: 6.3k
✟ 𓏼꫶ requested by @makizdoll — kayzzzzzz i hope you like this because i put all my heart into this and some parts even made ME giggle and daydream about this man... gosh i love your mind sm let me kiss you for requesting this
now playing :: tunnel vision — justin timberlake
notes :: did i write this whole thing in one sitting? yes! did i have to lock myself in my room to write this whole thing in one sitting? yes! my translator died for some reason and i crashed out numerous times, plus my search history makes me seem like im insane. but it worth it. i still think the smut part turned out kindaa badly and i read it a loooot of times, but fml i give up. (and the smut part is 4k words long...)
You never thought you’d end up with someone like Maki. It was more likely because your parents were so obsessed with your life and who you like, you thought you'd marry someone they liked more rather than you. You have already accepted your fate when you were thirteen, going to church with your head ducked down, eyes fixed on your steps and your dark brown boots. You thought your parents would have control over your life until you die. They would decide your future career, who you date, marry, how many children you will have.
Your mother is a believer of Christ, and your father just loves your mom so much he had turned to Christianity for their love to last. In contact, you’ve never really understood the hype around religions. Obviously you were afraid to admit this to your parents as a kid, and you are still afraid to do it at the age of twenty something.
You steal a glance at your parents sitting in the corner, and you feel the pit of your stomach burning as you see their judgemental gaze as they watch your husband dance like an idiot on the dance floor. He's drunk, might be the drunkest you’ve ever seen him, his shirt already having the top two buttons undone.
That burning sensation crawls up to your throat the moment you see your mom lean closer to your dad, whispering something into his ear.
“Why don't you dance with him?” Someone of the guests pats your forearm, making you look away from your parents. You don't exactly know who she is, but she sounds sweet, her voice like honey. Might be one of Maki’s relatives.
You shoot her a smile, shaking your head. Just imagining your parents' reaction at you dancing with someone they hate makes your eyes tear up with shame. “He’s funny to watch”
“Come on, darling! It's your wedding” She says, something like sadness lingering in her eyes. Your eyes flicker between your parents and Maki who still dances with nothing bothering him in the world, a big smile on his face.
You can't stop the smile that tugs in the corner of your lips as you watch him, feeling the burning sensation getting washed away by butterflies. After a few moments of hesitation, you stand up and walk up to him. When he sees you, his whole face lights up as he walks towards you and embraces you into a tight hug, the champagne in his hand darting dangerously close to the glass’s rim as he moves. “Finally!” you feel his breath on your neck “I thought you'd never dance with me”
You smile as you pull back from the hug and hold his hands, and Maki spins you around with a laugh. For the rest of the night, you decide to not look at your parents. They can rot in the corner of the room.
⋆｡‧˚ʚ ୨ৎ ɞ˚‧｡⋆
Maki kicks the door of the hotel room with his leg lazily, a soft click signaling that the door is locked. His tongue has been exploring your mouth since you two have gotten out of the elevator. You tried to stop him, giggling as you took your heels off, but he said he just ‘couldn't stop himself’ so you let him.
His hands softly grazed your waist, touching the exposed skin there. Your wedding dress was designed a little bit differently than the ones you used to see in tv shows and movies. It wasn't that big, and didn't have that dramatic skirt part. It was basically a pencil skirt made out of silk fabric. The shoulder part hung off your shoulders, exposing your collarbone, the back was cut out down to your waist.
Maki pushes you back gently, leading you to the king sized bed in the middle of the room. The swan origami pieces of towels are still perfectly settled in the middle of it. When he softly bites your bottom lip, you let out a hiss and pull back.
You have been fantasizing about this moment your whole life. What is it like to be in someone's arms? What is it like to be intimate with someone? It's kinda embarrassing to admit that ever since you knew what ‘sex’ meant, you imagined yourself having it. It's even more embarrassing to admit how much it scared you.
You pull your shaky hands away from his shoulders, fiddling with your silver necklace instead. Maki’s eyes scan your face confusedly, his thick brows knitting together in a frown. “Is everything alright?” he whispers as he lets his own hands drop from your waist.
You step away, putting a distance between you two. The truth is that you are even more scared now in the moment that you were when you just thought about it. Having sex is a big thing. You always thought you were just overthinking everything, about having it with ‘the right person’ or ‘regretting it right after’. As your friends also said — you will forget all your worries when you are in the moment.
That's supposed to happen now, right? So why does your stomach do backflips like your life depends on this? It's your wedding night. You must have sex on your wedding night. Everybody knows that it's a tradition, Maki too, and looking at his confused face makes you spiral shamefully. It's his night too.
“I'm sorry I just—” you say, sighing deeply. “I’ve never really been with anyone before”
The silver necklace between your fingers lets out a small sound as it rips, falling to the ground. You and Maki both follow it with your eyes, and you take another step back. God, you can't cry now. It can't happen. You can cry after you’ve done it and you lay in your bed in darkness, but not now!
Seeing the concern on your face, Maki’s expression softens and a small smile tugs in the corner of his lips. “Hey, it's okay”
Your body tenses “Okay? No it's not… I’m just, I shouldn't feel like this”
He steps closer and rubs your shoulders softly, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “Can I take you somewhere? And you can talk about it if you want” he tilts his head as he looks at you, and when was the time when you could say no to that handsome face of his?
You nod your head, and he grabs your hand excitedly as he leads you out of the room and gestures to you to stay silent by putting a finger in front of his lips. You swallow a giggle when you get in the elevator, him still holding your hand when he presses the 0 button.
“Maki, I don't have shoes on” you laugh, balancing your weight from one foot to the other on the cold tiles.
He looks down to your naked feet and laughs too. The elevator stops with a soft ding sound, and Maki suddenly squats down to grab onto the back of your knees and your waist, unexpectedly picking you up from the ground. A small scream leaves your mouth, the action catching you off guard and you try to grab onto the back of his neck as quickly as possible so you don't fall from his arms.
“What are you doing silly?” you ask, giggling.
“I don't want my princess to catch a cold” he simply answers as he presses a kiss to your forehead and steps out of the elevator, walking through the hallway that leads to the parking lot.
He doesn't even put you down when he opens the heavy door, he just kicks it open. It's already late at night, the whole hotel is covered in warm lights that leave everyone's jaw open.
When choosing the hotel to stay in after your wedding, you let Maki choose. He chose a hotel in a rich city you’ve never been in, that's another reason why your parents hate him. They always wanted you to have your wedding in your hometown, not some luxurious place.
You wanted him to surprise you with something, and this will also happen with your honeymoon. Yes, you have no idea where you are going to stay during your honeymoon with your husband. Most people were shocked when you told them this, but you trust Maki’s choice of places when it comes to things like this. He always knows the best places, when you two met and he took you on dates, he was always the one who chose the restaurants. It was always the same line he told you ‘let me surprise you’ with that slight tilt of his head and puppy eyes that you could never say no to.
The soft summer breeze tickles your skin as Maki carries you to your car, and you can't stop admiring his face in the dim lights of the hotel as he walks, not an ounce of struggle sitting out on his expression as he grips your legs and waist strongly.
He only puts you down when he has to open up the passenger seat’s door for you. Then, he slides onto the driver's seat and starts the engine. He smiles at you before he drives out of the packed parking lot.
“Where are we going?” you ask while looking out of the window, the city’s lights making your eyes sparkle.
“Don't be nosy” he answers, tone low. “Let me surprise you”
And you do, like always. You don't say anything else until you get there, letting him take the turns that you have no idea of where they lead. You never thought you'd trust a man like you trust Maki. With him, everything feels safe. Sometimes it feels like he's not even a man, because he's so loyal and kind, and also caring.
And as your mom taught you, only religious men can be like that, who follow the Bible.
Maki leans back in his seat when he stops the engine, turning his head towards you. You scan the place when you look out of the front window, then you narrow your eyes at him with a smile on your face.
“A convenience store?”
He nods proudly “It's 2 am, nothing else is open” he slowly slides his hand to your lap, interlinking your fingers together. “Let's get snacks”
The store is big. Obviously you have been in a big store, that's not the case, but for a convenience store this is the biggest you’ve ever been in. The cashier is barely awake, he’s holding onto the countertop with all his strength so he can stay standing, but his head is ducked down and you can't see if his eyes are open or closed because his red cap covers his face, but you have a guess.
“I’ve never been in a convenience store so big” you comment as you let Maki grab onto your hand, interlinking your fingers again. You imagined you and Maki from the perspective of an outsider, because how dumb is it to see a freshly married couple in a wedding dress and suit (well, not really a suit anymore because he took off the blazer and his shirt is half undone) in a convenience store in the middle of the night.
“I heard you can make multiple variants of ramen here” he says as he leads you to the snack section, stopping in front of the sweets.
He hums as he looks up and looks for your favorite snack, and he lets out an excited ‘ah!’ when he finally finds it and picks it up.
“But you don't even like sweets?” you ask confusedly, Maki just shrugs.
“I know, but I want to make you feel good. If you like sweets then we are getting sweets.” he states and puts the pack of brownies in your cart. Then he looks back on the shelves and picks up a few more snacks randomly.
“What are you doing?”
“We should try them” he smiles and leans in to kiss your cheeks, not even caring to look at the price of the sweets. Around five different types of chocolate bars in different sizes and flavors, three packs of gummy bears and eight packs of brownies were in your cart when he finally decided it's time to pay and leave. It took you a few minutes to convince him to get something he likes too, and grumbling to himself he picked up a singular pack of cheetos.
You stayed up all night, but you did not have sex on your wedding night. Instead, you and Maki ate every sweet (and the cheetos) you bought, and you had to admit that for some reason they tasted way better than the ones you used to eat in your hometown. It's like the quality was better, maybe because their prices were three times more expensive than the ones you buy on bad days in your town’s corner shop, when you have your period or just have a bad day at work. They gained a whole new meaning in your eyes.
⋆｡‧˚ʚ ୨ৎ ɞ˚‧｡⋆
Maki watches the glint in your eyes when he moves behind you and grabs your wrists to slowly move away your palms from in front of your eyes. Your jaw nearly drops and he can't help but laugh at your reaction.
A freaking yacht?
“You rented a yacht for our honeymoon?” you ask, fixing your eyes on the huge ship.
It was enormous. Multiple floors, balconies and the whole thing was so long you questioned if he didn't invite more people, because there's no way you two will have this whole thing for a week all to yourselves.
“Well” he laughs and moves to your side, his hand squeezing your waist “I didn't rent it”
Your eyes widen as you look at him, and he looks down at you with a smirk on his face.
Your breath hitches in your throat. “You—? There's no way, Maki” you shake your head, looking back at the huge yacht. This couldn't be true.
“Accept this as my wedding gift for you, wifey”
“Guests buy wedding gifts for the married couple and not the husband for the wife. Especially not a whole yacht”
He laughs and reaches down to your hand, sliding his big palm onto yours. “Aren't you happy? We can do whatever with this. I know you love the ocean, so why not explore it a little bit?” he hints a kiss in your hair.
You shrug, just imagining how expensive the ship was freaks you out. But at the same time, you know his family is way more different than yours. His father owns a whole damn company, and you know they are way less strict than your parents. You already knew this, but now you are sure (mainly because you can see it in front of your own eyes) that their wallet is thick.
Your lips curl into a smile, and you turn to step on the tip of your toes and kiss him. “I’m not against it”
The rest of the day goes away pretty quickly, but you know what they say — time doesn't exist when you have a good time. And oh boy, you did have an amazing time. Turns out Maki knows how to drive the yacht, and you had to hide how much it turns you on.
You swam in the ocean numerous times, because your husband not only bought you the whole yacht but apparently clothes too, and shoes, and bags, and there is a whole damn kitchen downstairs which is full of food and bowls and everything you might ever need for cooking.
He led you around in your new ship — obviously holding your hand the whole time — and as you entered every room, with each one it seemed more like a place to live in rather than a place to just explore the ocean with. There are numerous guest rooms in it, but your favorite one is the so-called main bedroom, because it's underwater.
It's on the very bottom floor, which has a beautiful view of the underwater and you can see the fishes swimming around in the clear water. It's huge, with a wardrobe that is big enough to be a whole other room, and a bathroom that leads from the room! The bed is placed in the middle of the room, and it has red silk sheets on it, which almost made you throw away your brain when you saw it.
Maki knows you love to sleep with silk sheets. They are so comfortable, and even though sometimes you have terrible insomnia the feeling of it wrapping around you helps you calm down.
The bottom floor also has a spa in it, and you and Maki spent a good hour there, just relaxing. It was the best thing ever. He understands you without words, and it kinda makes you freak out after all the shit your parents put in your head at your young age. The thing about religious men, and royalty to God. Maki didn't have all of this.
But he had way more. And he was always ready to give you everything you needed. It felt like you finally got free, cause look at you: on a yacht alone with your husband who can apparently drive the yacht and is rich, what is this if not the greatest rebellion against your shitty parents?
The best part of your day was when you opened up to Maki about your controlling mom and your dad who follows whatever she does. Obviously, he already knew how your parents are. The day he met them wasn't the best memory for him for sure. They weren't welcoming at all, and they constantly asked about his family and their beliefs. It happened, but after that it never really got brought up between you two. It was kinda your fault, because you were trying to avoid the religion topic as much as you could in the past years, and talking about your parents felt way too close to it.
But sitting in the sauna after a relieving massage made it feel easier to talk about it for some reason. You felt like this was the right time. And Maki listened quietly, sitting in front of you only in a towel that covered his bottom half while he breathed heavily because of the heat, sweat drools trailing down from his toned chest to his abs until they disappeared into the towel.
He said he understands why you avoided the topic for this long, and he knows it must’ve caused you trauma as a child. He straight up comforted you with a hug when you got out and took a shower and you finally weren't all sweaty.
Now it's around seven in the evening and you are splayed on the huge bed, tangled in the silk sheets while he is sitting by the bedframe, a glass of wine in his hand and yours is on the bedside table. You don't know what he sprayed the bed with, but you just can't get enough of the sweet vanilla scent. You look out of the huge window, admiring the way some fishes swim in front of the window. It makes you wonder: aren't they scared of you? Can they even see through the glass?
Maki, however, has his eyes on you. The way you lay on the bed with both of your arms stretched out next to you, your legs slightly hanging off of the edge of the bed. Your hair is all over around your head, your eyes shining as you look at the fishes.
He can't get enough of the sight of you, but why would he, when you just look so fucking pretty all the time? He’s sure he'll forever be obsessed with you. He loves you when you wear makeup, and when you don't. He loves you when you dress elegantly, and when you dress comfortably. He loves you when you make your hair, but he also loves you with all his heart when you just woke up and your hair is a mess.
Maki moves his eyes from your face to your legs, trailing down on your body, the way your hips curve, the way he can slightly see into your shirt because of the angle you are in.
He takes a big sip of his wine, swallowing it hard. He can't believe that all of this is real, everything he ever imagined with you will become real in the upcoming years. You will get a house together, maybe a dog or a cat, children…
God, he just can't believe you are his. He can't believe that there's this person out there who looks just like that, and is kind and innocent just like that, and is also his wife. Forever.
He can't help the way his cock twitches in his pants, already hard at the mere thought of having you.
Maki coughs awkwardly and puts his wine down on the bedside table next to yours before he breaks his glass with his strong grip.
“So” he says, voice coming out firmer than expected. “Before me, you’ve actually never—” he doesn't finish the sentence, because he's too embarrassed to. What kind of question is this?
The truth is that you and Maki have been together for only a few years, and the marriage was sudden but definitely not rushed. It felt just right in this tempo, even though it was fast. You’ve talked about numerous things, but one thing that never got into your conversation was past relationships. It might've been because you avoided the religious topic and that came with avoiding the relationship topic too — again, because your parents were too close to both of these.
You sigh and prompt yourself on your elbows, turning your head back to look at him. “No” you shake your head, confused at the sudden question.
Maki bites down his lip, dropping his hands onto his lap. “Right” he coughs again, and it makes you smile when you realize why he acts like this all of a sudden.
“Is my husband hard at the thought of me being a virgin?” you tease.
Maki laughs awkwardly, his cheeks getting red at your teasing immediately. He reaches over to the bedside table for his wine to drink the rest of it that's left in the glass. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Perhaps”
You sit up fully and turn around to face him, your eyes trailing down to the visible bulge in his pants. And in this room, with these beautiful windows around you on the bed covered in red silk sheets, suddenly it doesn't seem so scary. You feel more confident than ever. “Don't be shy, tell me what you want”
You get on all fours to crawl closer to him, and as you reach him you press a kiss on his neck. He sits with his legs straightened and you are above his legs as Maki looks over at your shoulder, watching the way your back arches as you press kisses on his skin. He lets out a small sound that makes you pull back and look into his eyes.
“I was thinking about how I should thank you for the yacht.” You sit down on his thighs, putting one hand on his shoulder while your other hand wanders to his sweatpants. You keep eye contact with him as your hand goes past the hem of his pants and you grab him through his boxers, massaging his twitching cock slowly.
“Shit” He breathes, looking down at your hand and the way you work him up even more.
The truth is that you have no idea what you are doing. But it seems like it's right, because his expression softens and he frowns his brows together like he could come just from this. You pull your hand away from his pants, leaving him aching for more.
You cup his cheeks in your hands and move closer, needing to close the distance between you. As you straddle his lap you kiss him deeply and slowly, tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip and taste the sweetness of it. You put your whole weight down on his lap, kind of unsure of what to do.
Maki slightly moves his hips upwards to press his bulge to your clothed crotch, dragging his hips back and forward as he grabs onto your sides and moves you on his lap. You let out a soft moan as you press your nails into his shoulders.
He pulls back from the kiss and watches as you chase after him with your eyes closed. The sight makes his lips curl up in a small smile, just so his dimples are showing. “Are you sure?” he asks, tone low.
He does it again. That look that you can't say no to, with the slightly tilted head and the puppy eyes. So you say yes. Honestly, you are so horny by the feeling of his bulge pressing to your core that if he didn't look at you like that you would probably say yes too.
You nod your head, ready to kiss him again but he stops you by cupping your cheeks. “I want you to say it”
“Yes. Gosh— Yes I’m sure”
He drops his hands from your cheeks and moves them to your sides to let them explore your body under your shirt, massaging your skin up and down repeatedly with his big palms. “Can I take this off?” Maki asks out of breath when he breaks the kiss, already tilting his head to mark up your neck while waiting for your answer — the answer that comes immediately: yes.
And he does, sliding your top off of you with a slick move, throwing it away in the corner of the room. He looks at your exposed upper body up and down, those breasts he has never seen before but always ached to. It was finally time to look at them properly without feeling guilty, and he drank up every moment of it. Maki moved his hands up without a question to cup your boobs that sit so well in your red lacy bra, sliding his digits across the hem of it.
He has a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. His gaze darkens as he looks up at you, something that looks way too close to hunger. Seeing the way you look at him, with a concerned and hesitant expression, he leans in to press a kiss on your neck, this time only a soft one. “Do you let me take care of you, angel?”
Your body tenses, but as he senses it he moves his hands away from your chest and moves them back to your waist to squeeze it slightly. “Only if you want to,” he hums.
“I just— I don't know what to do” You say, voice shakier than you intended it to be.
“It's okay, I can show you everything” He smiles up at you, caressing your back, his fingers tracing your spine up and down. “I can show you how to do it right”
You run your fingers through his dark locks “Then show me. I let you” you whisper, and he slightly picks you up to move you closer to him on his lap.
“Your bra can stay on if you want” he comments and smiles at you, and you are more than thankful to have your first time with Maki. He's the most understanding and sweetest man you've ever met. You can't even imagine your life next to someone else.
You lean in to kiss him, because that's something you’ve mastered in the past years. Kissing him was your favorite thing to do, it was your sweet escape from everything and everyone surrounding you. Your tongue finds its way to his mouth immediately, and this time it's wilder than the ones before. It makes you get turned on, and it’s not that you’ve never got worked up by a kiss but you’ve never got this horny by a kiss. He takes the lead when he bites your bottom lip, making you let out a moan.
Maki’s voice comes out in heavy breaths when he pulls away, making you realize you are not the only one who's this affected by the kiss. “Do you want to ride me, pretty girl?”
You grind down your weight on his lap again, just to try to calm the heat between your thighs. “Yes” you whimper.
With a steady move, he turns you around on his lap and pushes you down on his clothed cock, just to feel your wet pussy through fabric one more time. In this angle, you can't see what he's doing. It's kind of exciting, because you can only feel how his fingers move to your clit as he circles it through your panties with a firm movement, but you can't see his face while he's doing it.
You let out a moan when he drags his finger from your clit to your hole and slowly pushes it up just to tease you, still through your panties. He gestures to you to get up from his lap but only for a moment so he can pull his pants and boxer down, freeing his aching hard cock from the clothes that kept it suffocatingly.
You can't even gasp for air when you feel his fingers getting hooked up in your panties as he pulls them aside. Then, he slides his middle and index finger to your wet clit, playing with your bud.
You grab onto his shin, slightly arching your back as you push yourself upwards, back toward his hand.
“Chill, you are too greedy” Maki smirks — at least he sounds like he does, because you can't see his face. However, he pushes a finger inside your pulsating hole, and you moan at the sudden sensation. He only has one finger in you, but it already feels too much.
“Are you okay?” he whispers, and you let out a shaky ‘yes’. He takes his time and lets you adjust to his finger before he slowly starts moving it in and out of you, stretching you out. As he does so, you get on all fours and arch your back more so he can reach and see you better while he works to open you up. Seeing you getting wetter as he fingers you makes his cock even harder, and with his other hand he starts to stroke himself slightly.
When you are near crying, he pulls his finger out and grabs your hips to push you down in a sitting position again. “I won't let you cum. Not yet. You have to feel my cock” he teases as he kisses your spine.
Maki reaches to the bedside table and pulls the top drawer out, rummaging through the stuff until he grabs a condom and a bottle of lube. Oh, so he really got ready for this honeymoon. You wait until he puts the condom on for himself, and you feel like maybe you should've helped him with it, because that's what wives do, right? You shake the negative thoughts off of your head before they could grow on you and look back across your shoulder, just to see him biting down his lip as he carefully smears the lube on his cock.
“You alright?” he asks when he sees you looking at him.
You swallow hard and nod, moving back on your knees to settle yourself above his aching cock. You reach down to touch it and you stroke it a few times, hearing a groan from Maki as a reaction. As you touch it, you can feel a vein popping out on the side of his dick, from the base to the tip. You trace your finger across it. He's big. Not that thick, but long. Well, you don't really know what is considered big or long, but for you, he’s definitely big.
When Maki sees you hesitate, he grabs onto your waist. “Need some help?”
You let him line himself up in front of your entrance and move you down, slowly pushing you down on his cock. “Deep breaths, darling” he warns you as he slowly pushes into you inch by inch, stopping time to time and waiting for you to adjust yourself to his size.
When you finally think you got used to his size, you slowly start to move, at first forwards and back. The stretch feels so good, it feels like it's going to rip you in half anytime but in the best way possible. Then, when you gain strength you get off of his cock and let yourself drop down, earning a moan from him.
“Do that again, pretty” he says, hands resting on your hips.
You do it over and over again until you are straight up bouncing on his cock. Maki’s grip on your hips grows rougher and so does he as he can’t control himself anymore and he fucks up into you as he rolls his hips. Each movement knocks the air from your lungs and each one becomes harsher than the last.
A deep groan escapes him at the sight of you - your pretty peach butt, the way your pussy takes him so well – it drives him insane. “Fuck, your virgin pussy stretches out so well for me”
The rough pace brings tears to your eyes, soft whimpers leaving your lips with each movement. Suddenly, he bottoms out fully and removes you from his cock before you could reach your orgasm — leaving you confused.
You turn back, frowning.
“I need to fuck you raw, I just can't — I have to feel you around me” he says out of breath at your reaction, pulling the condom off of his fully hard cock. He just throws it away and smears his pre-cum down on his member to make it easier to slide back into you.
“You are so damn pretty” Maki grabs your hips again and guides you back onto his shaft, this time taking him isn't that hard as before. Without the condom, you feel him more deeply, you can feel the vein you traced with your finger now, and it turns you on even more.
A moan leaves your mouth at the feeling of it as you begin to move yourself back and forward again, feeling his length deep in your stomach. After a few moments of teasing you lose control again and you are riding his cock relentlessly, his hand comes up to grab your hair which makes you arch your back.
The intensity builds quickly, your thoughts slipping away as everything narrows down to the way he holds onto your hair and pulls it, the way he won’t let you slow down. His grip turns almost possessive. “I can't believe I’m the one who has you, all for myself” his hand lets go of your hair and drops down to trace your spine, making you arch even deeper “Don’t stop,” he breathes, though it sounds more like a warning than a request – even if you’re not the one in control. Your name falls from his lips, sending a jolt through you. Every movement feels messy, completely out of control now, and so is Maki.
He whimpers as he leans closer to you when your movements become sloppier by each second. “I'm going to finish” he warns, then adds “In you”
Maki presses himself against your back while his hand finds your stomach, softly pushing it down. You whine as you look down at his hand and stop moving, letting him finish. Maki thrusts into you a few more times but his movements are falling apart, until he eventually fills you up with a last, strong thrust. He pushes down your stomach even harder, making you feel every drop of his cum filling you up. It feels more than amazing.
You drop your weight on him as you try to catch your breath, him still being in you. Your orgasm is so close too, so, so close you have to have it. So you decide to lift yourself up and drop down again. The sudden continuation makes Maki gasp underneath you. You end up riding his soft cock until you cum too, your thighs shuddering by the time you finish.
You practically have to gain strength to pull off of him and lay down next to him on the silk sheets. For a few moments you both stay silent, and the only sound in the room is your heavy breathing.
Then, Maki speaks up “I can't believe you are my wife”
You move your eyes away from the fishes to look at his expression, a few strands of hair sticking to his forehead with sweat “And I can't believe you are my husband”
“Come on” he laughs, making his dimples appear “So, how was your first time?”
“I honestly couldn't imagine a better first time”
Maki reaches out to touch your hand and interlink his hand with yours. “Then we should do this more often. I’ve been waiting to make you mine since the first time I saw you.” he comments “Besides, there are many places on this yacht and we have a whole week alone” You look up at him, and you both of you smiling at each other.
17&29 with nicho! angst but fluff at the end please
prompt #29 "you looked really flirty with him tonight." // prompt #17 “come back to bed, it’s cold without you.”
notes: finally got this out of my drafts lol also not me doing all the nico requests oops.. ill try to make more these days sorry to everyone waiting for their fic :(
• you can find my prompt list here
pairing: nicholas x reader
tags/warnings: angst with happy ending, arguments, crying, maki mentioned, barely proofread i hope it makes sense
wc: 2.7k
"baby, can you please tell me what's wrong?"
you tried again, a softer tone this time. still, no response from nicholas. you sighed deeply from your spot on the passenger seat.
you two were leaving from a small party with your friends, where you just shared a few drinks and some silly conversations. you thought everything was fine, until you got in the car and locked eyes with a moody, unusual quiet nicholas.
"are you feeling sick?" you asked him, running out of ideas of what could be causing such drastic moodswings.
he just shook his head and started driving in silence, but you could see the slight frown on his face and how he was holding onto the steering wheel a bit too tightly.
you frowned too, confused and irritated because he was obviously upset, but he wouldn't tell you the reason.
once he reached your apartment, he got off the car without even waiting for you. he stepped into the house and directly went to the room. you followed behind.
"nicho, seriously, what's going on?"
"nothing's going on, y/n."
and there he was again.
for the past weeks, the arguments between him and you had been quite frequent. they were actually stupid fights over who left the lights on or who forgot to buy milk for breakfast, so you didn't pay it much attention, guessing you both were just a bit more irritable than usual.
but it was starting to piss you off, because every time you asked him if something was bothering him, he always brushed it off with a quick shrug or a quiet "i'm fine, just tired." and of course you knew he was tired, but was it so hard to just tell you when he wasn't happy about something?
you watched in disbelief as he changed into some comfy clothes, completely ignoring you and the growing tension in the room.
"you're doing it again." your voice turned out sharper than you meant.
"what am i doing again?"
"shutting me out when there's clearly something bothering you."
"i told you i'm fine."
"you're lying, nicholas."
his jaw tightened at the full name. you could tell things were about to scalate again.
"i'm not lying. god, you're so annoying."
"oh so now i'm annoying? for trying to understand what the hell is going on inside your head?"
"yes you are! you keep nagging me for everything. it's annoying."
"i only asked you one thing, nicho. if there's something wrong, if i did something to upset you. and it seems to bother you so much to just tell me."
your voice was getting louder without noticing, and so did his.
"well, yes! you did upset me, okay? happy now?"
"and what did i even do?"
he chuckled dryly, like he couldn't believe you were asking that.
"you didn't look so clueless when you were sitting next to maki."
"what?"
"you looked really flirty with him tonight. you were laughing at everything he said, leaning on his arm like i wasn't even there!"
your expression went from confusion to anger in less than a second.
"are you serious right now? i can't even be friendly with my friends now?"
he laughed again, the same dark, humourless laugh. even his eyes were darker when he looked up at you.
"don't try to buy me with that bullshit. i saw the way you were looking at him. you were two words away from just jumping all over him."
his words actually made something tear in your chest.
"you really think i would do that?"
he fell silent for a second, almost like he was hesitating.
"maybe." he finally answered in a low, tight voice.
you took a step back, like the words physically hit you. the action didn't go unnoticed by him.
"you see? you keep asking me but then get upset when i tell you what bothers me."
it was your turn to chuckle, because you couldn't believe he was saying all that. it was ridiculous.
"and what do you expect? you're accusing me of flirting with another man!"
"because you clearly were! do you think i enjoy watching you drift away from me!?"
you were screaming at each other at this point.
"drift away? i've been trying to get to you for weeks and you just keep pushing me away!"
"because every time i say something, it turns into this!"
he gestured in between you and him, his hands flying in frustration.
"that's because you wait until it explodes! you keep everything in, mask it behind yours "i'm fine" until you can't take it anymore and then you just snap at me! i'm getting tired of you lying at my face."
"and i'm tired of you pretending to care."
his voice sounded so cold it sent chills down your spine.
"what?" you whispered.
"you don't care. you were just about to make out with maki in front of me. you don't care how i feel."
your throat tightened as your eyes were already watering. but you wouldn't cry in front of him, not after those words left his mouth.
"so you really think like that about me..." your voice wavered. "you really think i don't care, when all these weeks all i've been doing is trying to help you? to help us?"
his expression flattered for a moment, but he quickly hide it.
"maybe you should stop trying so much."
his voice was quieter now, but that didn't stop his words from hurting.
you stared at him for a while, like waiting for him to take his words back. but he didn't. you couldn't find any trace of your sweet, caring boyfriend in the man you had in front of you.
you finally nodded, blinking your tears away. "fine. i'll stop trying then, if that's what you want. i won't ask you anymore." you yanked your pillow from the bed. "i won't bother you anymore."
he looked up, an almost unrecognizable trace of panic in his eyes. but he didn't move, he didn't stop you as you left the room with your pillow in hand.
you reached the living room trying to breathe through the ache in your chest. his words hurt. they hurt too much.
you felt like an idiot, for worrying so much when he just made clear he didn't want any of your care. but you were also angry. flirting with maki? does he really think you would change him for your best friend? does he think you're that easy?
as you sat on the couch, you couldn't help the tears from falling. you threw the pillow on the armrest and buried your head on it, crying silently into the soft cotton.
you hated fighting with him. you hated how he sounded like he really meant everything he said to you. but you hated even more how, deep down, you were still worried about him.
back in the room, nicholas was still standing right where he was before you left. the moment you walked out the room, regret started hitting him so hard it made him feel sick. he hated seeing you cry, even more knowing he was the reason of your tears.
he didn't mean any word he said, but he couldn't help it.
the image of you sitting next to maki, looking so happy and carefree, while the two of you couldn't even hold a normal conversation without turning it into an argument, was eating him alive.
it wasn't jealousy. it was fear.
he knew you would never cheat on him, but there was always a voice in the back of his head, telling him "what if..." what if you get tired of him? what if you realize someone else could make you happier than he could?
but he never admitted those things out loud. it was easier to turn them into anger, to bury his emotions deep down and pretend everything was fine.
what he didn't realize, is that he was actually making it worse. he was pushing you away, without even giving you a proper explanation.
he was a coward.
now you were mad, you had every right to be. and you were hurt, and that killed him inside.
he got on the bed, guessing you probably didn't want him to come after you. god, maybe you would never want to see his face again.
he pulled the blankets up, ignoring the lump threatening to explode in his throat. his eyes landed on the empty spot next to him, where your pillow was supposed to be, where you were supposed to be. he felt a chill running down his spine, so he hugged himself tighter.
he stayed in that position for a while, his eyes closed as he tried to force himself to sleep. but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't relax. he couldn't stop replaying the same scene in his mind; the hurt in your eyes when he told you those awful words. the guilt was eating him alive.
he found himself walking towards the living room.
you were also still in the same position, pretending to be asleep. your eyes opened when you heard soft footsteps approaching and just a second after, nicholas was kneeling in front of you.
"y/n..." he whispered so lowly you almost didn't hear him. you locked eyes with him, and he looked genuinely devastated. even his eyes were slightly red. he might have cried too, you thought.
"come back to bed, it's cold without you." he muttered, reaching to brush your cheeks with his thumb.
his touch felt so comforting it made you angry. you were supposed to stay mad at him. "you don't get to ask me for anything, after what you just said." you tried to sound firm, but he didn't miss the slight shake in your voice.
"i know. i know, and i'm sorry. just... let's go back to bed and talk, um? please, baby..." he didn't give you much time to think about your answer, before he was already pulling you into his arms. he easily lifted you up from the couch, your pillow on his other hand as he walked with you back to the room.
and you couldn't help but give in, rest your head on his shoulder and wrap your arms around him while he carried you to bed. you already knew you wouldn't be able to sleep without him anyway.
"look at me..." he whispered as he carefully put you down on the bed beside him.
you hesitated. part of you still wanted to turn away from him, but the look on his face made it almost impossible. the worry and guilt painted on his expression made the empathetic part of your heart soften up, so you looked up.
"why did you say all that?"
nicholas cringed at the way your voice was shaking. god, he hated this.
"i didn't mean anything i said. i know you would never do something so filthy to me. i just..." his voice wavered slightly. "i'm scared." he whispered the last words, you almost couldn't hear him.
"scared?" you were confused.
"you know, how busy i've been. we barely spend time together anymore. and when we do, i end up ruining it everytime. you just... looked so happy with maki tonight."
"that doesn't mean i'd cheat on you."
"i know." he was fast to answer this time, like he wanted to make sure you believed him. "it's just in my head. there's always this voice telling me i'm gonna lose you, and i can't shut it off."
the vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard. nicholas wasn't the type to talk about his feelings so openly. he always swallowed everything down so no one could notice it. but now that you had him in front of you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes, his messy hair and clear exhaustion weighting on his shoulders. it made you feel a little guilty, because you didn't notice sooner.
"you're tired, nicho." you softened your voice now.
he nodded, his lower lip trembling just slightly. "i'm so tired. i'm exhausted and my head's a mess. i keep overthinking work, life, us... and i feel like i'm becoming harder to love."
you could hear the self hatred in his words, and it made your heart ache. you had no idea it had gotten this bad.
"nicho. i don't need you to be perfect all the time, i just need you to let me in."
"but i don't want you to see me like this."
you sighed deeply. he was so stubborn.
"i'm an idiot, aren't i?" he asked before you could keep talking.
"a little bit, yeah." you smiled softly, brushing his messy curls away from his forehead. "but i still love you. when you're an idiot, when you're mad, when you're tired... i don't care. but i need you to talk to me, you understand?"
he nodded quickly, and the next second he was practically throwing himself towards you. he couldn't help it anymore, he needed to feel you close. he was hugging you so tightly you almost had trouble breathing. but you didn't care, because he was finally allowing himself to be vulnerable.
"are you still mad?" he muttered against your neck, and you were sure he was pouting.
"yes." you let out another tired breath, but hugged him back. "you said some really awful things, baby."
"i'm sorry." he pulled away to cup your face, then his lips were pressing against your cheek. "sorry for making you cry."
you ended up smiling despite the still lingering hurt in your heart. "it's fine. but don't do it again, or i'll leave you for good."
he chuckled. a small, subtle laugh that still warmed your heart. that's the nicholas you loved. the playful, sweet and caring one. "noted." he muttered, his nose brushing against yours.
then without warning, he moved you onto his lap, his arms firm around your waist.
"nicho! i can't breathe, idiot."
"don't care." his voice was muffled in your chest. "i missed you."
"i was gone for like 20 minutes." you rolled your eyes.
"worst 20 minutes of my life." he pouted at you.
"you're a baby." you chuckled, then shivered when his hands slipped under your shirt.
"i'm your baby." he started leaving tiny kisses on your cheek, then down your jaw and your shoulder.
"is this your way of earning my forgiveness?"
and he nodded, a sly grin on his face. "is it working?" he looked up at you with innocent eyes while he left a kiss on your neck.
"you're not fair, nicholas."
"not my full name again." he frowned at you. "call me nicho. or baby, or love, or anything but that."
"okay, okay! dramatic baby... i'll call you love, you like that?"
he nodded, a satisfied smile on his lips. you noticed how his head was now hanging off your shoulder, like it was getting harder for him to keep it up. you gently pushed him back against the pillows, and then got off his lap to lay beside him instead. he let out a small whine, reaching for you.
"shh... i'm here, love." you quickly got back into his arms.
"good... i can't sleep without you." he sleepily murmured against your hair. he wasn't able to relax even a bit just some minutes ago and now he was acting like a big baby in your arms. it was funny, and adorable.
"thank you." you heard his raspy voice again after some minutes of silence.
"for what?"
"your patience." he tried to open his eyes to look at you. "and for not giving up on me."
you shook your head, silencing him with a sweet kiss on his lips. "never. you're stuck with me, the same way i'm stuck with you."
he smiled warmly this time, genuinely. "i'm glad."
he tugged you closer if that was possible and put the blanket higher around both of you. "sleep..."
"yeah." you sighed, finally letting sleep take over you now that you could feel his steady heartbeat in your ear and the weight of his arm around your waist. "love you."
✩ Synopsis: Nicholas has sworn for years that he doesn't have feelings for you. He has no right — you're his best friend, not to mention the fact that you're taken. When things go awry at a party, however, and you're left alone, he'll be damned if he leaves you to suffer.
✩ Pairing: Wolf!Nicholas Wang x Fem!Reader
✩ Warning(s): Best Friends to Lovers, emotional hurt/comfort, infidelity (Not Weno, he'd never), angsty werewolves, suggestive dialogue, physical assault, brief instance of slut-shaming, reader and Nico are Going Through Things, Byun Euijoo saves the day
✩ 10.6k words. | Chap. 2 (coming soon)
Contary to popular belief, Nicholas Wang does not like parties.
Well…no. He likes parties with friends. His pack. Loved ones. Small, intimate gatherings that last for four, maybe five hours before everyone else goes home and he can finally bury himself under his sheets, ready to zonk out for the night.
Frat parties, though? Gods, what a nightmare. They're loud. Too extra. Too many scents for his brain to decipher all at once, too many drugs, and too many people with exhibition kinks fucking against the nearest uncrowded surface.
There's booze, too. That part, though, he doesn't necessarily mind.
There are definitely ways he prefers to spend his Friday nights: In bed, in a convenience store, or out at a mall making fun of the basic Uniqlo mannequins. He'd rather spend three nights at a local 7-Eleven than be in the middle of some weed-stinking, sorority girl-infested, douchebag-crawling hangout.
So, naturally, he finds himself leaning against the kitchen counter in the Epsilon Nu Eta house while some of the guys, ones he can actually stand, play beer pong. The four of them — Jay, Beomgyu, Matthew, and Yuma — are wasted to hell and back, which means that above all else, their aims are all shit. Even Yuma, his own packmate, is having a hard time aiming for the solo cups. If Nicholas wasn't tipsy himself, he would have the sense to take video footage just to rub it in Yuma's face later.
"I thought I'd find you both here." His head snaps to attention as Euijoo settles beside him, studying their drunken friends. "You're not dancing?"
"Don't really feel like it tonight." Nicholas swirls his drink around once in his cup before he sighs. "I didn't even want to come."
"But you did." His leader's gaze has never felt quite heavy to him, courtesy of their closeness in age, but it still carries some weight to it — the kind that leaves a part of him itching on the inside. His wolf, the inherent non-human side of him that resides somewhere deep within, sinks down with respect.
"I did." He eyes the remainder of his drink, something fruity with enough kick to make his temples feel lighter.
"Because of her?"
Nicholas freezes, if only for a split second.
Yeah…He's been caught. He's only here for you — his best friend since middle school and roommate.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Well…To him, anyway. His wolf seems to think otherwise.
Stupid fucking mutt.
That second of exposure passes, and he lets the thought go. He nods. "You know I don't trust people here."
Jay yells out something unintelligible, slurred from the alcohol, and Euijoo tilts his head. He never takes things at face value, that one. Nicholas has never been sure if he's grateful or irritated by it.
"You don't trust people," his brother says slowly, "or you don't trust him?"
Another frozen moment. This time, there's no masking it; Nicholas's face contorts in annoyance. His gaze sharpens, his lips flattening into a line that blurs between disapproval and pure disgust.
It's no secret to anyone in the pack that Nicholas despises your boyfriend.
Kaito is his name (A stupid one, he thinks). You met him at the beginning of your freshman year at SCU and fell head-over-heels right away. He's exactly your type: tall, charming, observant, and financially responsible.
He also happens to be exactly the kind of guy that Nicholas hates. A try-hard. Nice, but not kind. Sweet around you, and a total fucking prick once your back is turned. Gods, Nicholas hated him from the moment he met him, and yet…
And yet, he only spoke out against him once. Because he didn't want to hurt your feelings or make you feel pressured to rethink the relationship. He'd feel like a real jerk if he sent you into a crisis because of his opinions over some guy.
That's all Kaito is to him — some guy. Nothing special. Not noteworthy or to be envied in the slightest.
Well…
Nicholas shakes his head and raises the last of his drink to his lips. Swallowing a little too much at once, he meets his brother's eyes and shrugs. "Can't it be both?"
"Am not," Nicholas retorts, wincing at a ping-pong ball that goes flying over someone's head. "I just don't like him."
"We know," Euijoo says flatly. "But if she really was in a bad situation, she'd probably tell you."
If Nicholas were in his wolf form, his ears would flatten at that. "Don't say that shit. It's bad karma."
"Karma?" Euijoo echoes with a frown. "I'm not speaking anything into existence, Nico. I'm being logical." Then, his assessing gaze softens into something more gentle. More Euijoo. "You care for her. I get it. You have to give her credit, though; she keeps him in line."
Barely, Nicholas almost scoffs. If you weren't so assertive, Kaito probably would've walked all over you. One scenario comes to mind at that — the time the three of you, plus Chaewon and Jake, went out for a 7-11 run at 3am. In a haze of We need this and Don't forget the Sprite, someone had knocked over the glass tip jar and completely shattered it.
You hadn't even been standing near it.
Kaito still blamed you — and made sure everyone else in the store knew, too.
His solo cup makes a small, popping protest as he grips it just a hair tighter.
And, because Euijoo is Byun-fucking-Euijoo, he notices right away.
"Mostly," he amends. "There's no saving that asshole, though."
Nicholas just grunts in agreement and turns his attention back to the beer pong table. Yuma has landed himself in quite the predicament; somewhere between his winning streak and his drunken state, he's managed to knock every cup out besides the two on the opposite ends of the table. And now…he's missing every shot he takes.
It's enough to conjure a quiet laugh from Nicholas. Enough to vanquish his frustration and allow him to just sit and enjoythis moment of alcoholic bliss with one of his closest friends.
"Nico!"
He jolts and glances warily through the crowd. Kai Huening has never been hard to miss (tall bastard), but his silvery hair makes him stand out even more now. What stands out more, though, is that look in his eyes; agitated, discontent. Nothing like his usual upbeat demeanor.
"Kai." He shoots the man a curt nod. "You alright? You look…" He searches for the appropriate term in any of the four languages he knows, and eventually settles on a (slightly undignified), "Not well."
"Me?" Kai runs a hand through his hair, shorn shorter than usual, and shakes his head rapidly. "I'm fine. Your girl clearly isn't."
Nicholas stills.
They don't even stick in his brain like it usually would, Kai's words.
Your girl.
Here's the thing: Yes, you're a taken woman. Yes, everyone knows that. But as far as half of the university is concerned, you've been with Nicholas for longer than anyone can remember — not Kaito — and as often as Nicholas attempts to correct people, they never seem to get the memo.
You're friends. Best friends. You have movie marathons on your couch every Friday and go thrifting every other week. You dragged him to your house in high school when he got beat up for defending the weird kids from the jocks, scolding him while disinfecting his wounds. He trusts you to do his nails. You trust him to pick out your outfits. Hell, he picked the one you're wearing now.
Maybe it isn't much of a shock, then, that people assume you're both an item. Nicholas isn't going to let people's perceptions of him cloud the way he sees you, though. And right now, you're not okay. At a party.
You fucking love parties.
Panic rises, swift and unstable, so fast that he can't even correct Kai. "What?" he sputters, only kept in place by Euijoo's well-timed clamp on his shoulder. "What happened?"
Kai winces; it's aimed more towards Euijoo, like an apology for creating some sort of mess — but the damage is already done. There's no going back now.
Not when it comes to you.
Never when it comes to you.
"I don't really know." Kai glances over his shoulder, like he might need backup for a crime he didn't mean to commit. "I just saw her run upstairs, and I think she might have been crying—"
"What?!" Nicholas practically chokes on air, doubling over for a fraction of a second before his eyes narrow.
"Nicholas." Euijoo's tone borders on a warning.
"Don't shoot the messenger, man." Kai takes a step back. "I just know you both are close, so you'd want to know."
He can't find the right words for a second. "She's my best friend, yes. But she does—" He hopes his expression doesn't go sour — "have a boyfriend."
Clearly, his hopes are futile, because Euijoo quietly repeats his name with subtle disapproval. "Nicholas…"
"I know." Kai's scent, jasmine, is pervaded by obvious nervousness. "But I can't find him. I don't even know if he's here."
Oh.
Ha.
You're somewhere in this stupid frat house, probably alone, in tears…and Kaito isn't even with you.
Of course he isn't.
Just like that, Nicholas' wolf is done. And, for the first time in a long time, Nicholas himself agrees.
The remainder of Kai's words are lost within the roaring in Nicholas's ears. His vision tunnels, and suddenly, he moves without thinking. He downs the last of that peachy drink and all but crushes the solo cup in his fist. It makes an audible crack as his claws emerge from his nails and plunge into the plastic. His wolf rears its head within, snarling and pacing restlessly, and all he can think to do is follow that instinct. He has half the mind to throw himself into the crowd—
"Nicholas. Stop."
He freezes completely. Doesn't even breathe.
Euijoo has straightened to his full height, a good three or so inches on Nicholas. It's enough to allow him to stare the latter down with a gaze that screams listen, listen, listen.
It's enough to render Nicholas's body useless, too helpless to do anything but obey his leader's command.
Too helpless to get to you.
Somewhere, his wolf snarls in frustation.
In another place, Euijoo's growls back.
His hand is still clamped on Nicholas's shoulder, fingers curled tight enough that it reminds Nicholas that while it might not hurt right now, it most certainly could later. Euijoo is a more patient leader than most, but it's not lost on anyone that he could absolutely take someone twice his size down with terrifying ease. That's why, he guesses, no one ever messes with his pack. It would be a damned death sentence — and that's not even considering Fuma and Yudai.
"Look at me," Euijoo orders.
Nicholas can't even force himself not to listen, and he fucking hates himself for it. He doesn't have the time for this, he wants to yell. You could be hurt, and he doesn't even know the specifics because Kai decided to go to him and not you—
Euijoo's grip goes tighter, only stopping when Nicholas hisses softly under his breath. The taller man leans in and mutters into the latter's ear, his voice gentle yet firm. "Ground yourself. You can't tear a house party apart just because you can't think straight."
What Nicholas wants to say is something along the lines of, "It's not that easy. You know that it's not that easy. Not when it's here. Not when it's an emergency."
"Not when it's her."
But he can't. Not even his stubborn mind can resist his leader's orders. Not of his own accord, Nicholas relents — anything to get Euijoo off of him and you closer. His shoulders sag, and his gaze falls. He squints at the floor, analyzing the tiles and suspicious stains that threaten to stick to his shoes, something clear and sticky. If he got it on his Converse and tracked it back into their own home, Maki would absolutely kill him. If that didn't end him, then the ensuing lecture about properly keeping our floors clean certainly would.
The thought is enough to bring him a moment of peace within the noise, and his sight clears for long enough that he's sure he can suck in a long breath without blacking out completely.
You're still not next to him, though. That's a problem.
Slowly, he tilts his head back up. Euijoo just arches a brow. "Better?"
Wordlessly, Nicholas nods. The hand on his shoulder squeezes him, hard enough to force him to respond. "Yeah. I'm better."
Euijoo releases him and, because he's him, gives him a tiny pat on the arm. "Good. Now, go get your girl. Don't even thinkabout fighting you-know-who."
Nicholas is bounding up the stairs seconds later. Although his mind is more clear, less alarm, his eyes still dart around frantically as he shoves through couples grinding on each other in the shadows of the hallway. Of course, all he can smell is the unmistakable scent of sex, but that doesn't mean he can't try to find yours in the sea of sweat and arousal.
He has to admit, albeit reluctantly — Euijoo's little alpha stunt in the kitchen has made him more aware of his surroundings than he has been all night. He pauses in the center of the hall, shakes his head, and scents the air for your unmistakable coconut perfume, the very bottle he gave you for your birthday four months ago.
Nothing. He growls lowly and stalks further down the hall. There's no way you'd hear him even if he attempted to call your name; the bass downstairs echoes throughout the house, and you don't have the same keen sense of hearing that he does.
He pauses. It's faint, drifting subtly around through musk and booze and bad decisions, but the scent is definitely there — coconut and vanilla. He follows it carefully, the knot in his chest tightening at how stronger it gets with every passing footstep. It's different from its usual notes; your scent tends to fall on the sweeter side, but from here, it's dampened. Subdued. Disturbed.
He catches the sound of a choked sob, and before he can quite consider how this might look to anyone who's people-watching, Nicholas is wrenching open a door close to the end of the hall — a bedroom-turned study area. It's dark; the lights remain off, but the moon pierces through the sole window in the center of the wall and illuminates the room just as well as any lamp would.
Under that window, you're curled into a ball. Your shoulders, uncovered on account of your outfit, shake. The harsh movement catches the light from the window and reflects it jarringly across his vision. For a moment, it blinds him. That's what he gets for dressing you in silver.
You look beautiful, he thinks — but Nicholas has never seen you crying so hard.
He calls your name softly, shutting the door with a tiny click. You don't make an effort to move, so he moves just a tad closer — enough to alert you of his presence, and also enough to give you appropriate room. It's just an instinct of his, lupine in a sense, and you're more than used to it by now. Should be, anyway, yet the moment you hear your name, your body language shifts. You stiffen; it's not quite a flinch, but it's not motionless, either.
You've never been so…tense…before.
Nicholas is silent for a moment. He tries his best to keep it together. Really, he does — he even tries to dampen the roaring in his ears so that he can speak to you quieter. You still don't look up at him.
It pierces him harder than he can describe — just enough that his vision clears and he's able to pull himself together.
"Hey." He drops into a crouch just a few feet away. "Look at me. What happened?"
You don't say anything, but slowly, slowly, your face emerges from where you buried it between your knees. His wolf lets out a whine of distress at the sight — how your once-perfect eyeliner smears down your cheeks along with hot, glistening tears. The highlighter you'd so carefully applied earlier shimmers in places it shouldn't even be in, and something in Nicholas aches.
He pulls your quivering frame into his own carefully, subtly moving your head so that it's tucked under his chin. Gods,he's never seen you so shaken before. You're cool, effortlessly confident; you walk into places like they were built for you personally and take up space with no issue whatsoever.
Now, he notes, you feel...less than that. Smaller, in his arms.
Deep in his chest, his wolf preens at the contact. He silently snarls at it to shut the fuck up.
Your voice is just as small, if not weaker. "I hate him."
Nicholas blinks. "What?"
You hate him.
There's no question as to who you're referring to.
The hairs on the back of Nicholas' neck raise. In the two years you've been with Kaito, you've defended him from anything and everything thrown at his way. You even scolded Nicholas when he'd called your boyfriend out on getting drunk around children at a different function.
But now…you hate him?
You cough quietly, your lips brushing against his collarbone. "Did you see that girl, earlier? She had that really long, blue ponytail."
Nicholas purses his lips, searching his memory through the haze of peaches and smoke. Usually, he has near-perfect recall with that sort of thing, but when a party has as many people as this one does, faces can blur into one, and scents are just as bad.
Finally, he finds her in his mind's eye. "Yeah. She's a transfer from Europe. Danika, I think."
You sniff. "I don't give a shit what her name is. I give a shit that she was giving my boyfriend head, and that he liked it."
Nicholas freezes.
Now, in his time at SCU, he's seen infidelity a good number of times. He's seen girls post confidently on Instagram about being the other woman. It's not uncommon for guys on the lacrosse team to fuck their teammate's girls and pretend it never happened. Hell, once time two student government leaders cheated on their boyfriends with each other. Never in his life, though, did he consider you getting cheated on.
How could he? You're perfect. Cheating as a whole is awful, but to cheat on you…
His blood boils with something primal.
"I hate him," you whisper again, your voice breaking. "I fucking hate him, Nico."
Nicholas has always hated him. Now, though…
He's never felt his own wrath hurtling to the surface so swiftly.
He grits his teeth, canines sharpening in his mouth. One punctures the flesh of the inside of his cheek, and the metallic rush that floods over his tongue is the only things that completely grounds him to his humanity.
Well. Not quite. As if his friend could hear his thoughts, a subconscious version of Euijoo sighs in the back of his mind. "We just talked about this. Ground yourself before you lose it."
Carefully, he slides one arm under your knees and lifts you up, cradling you gently to his chest. You make a soft sound of surprise that would have him cooing in any other situation, but you don't resist. That, more than anything, is terribly alarming.
"Wanna get out of here?" he prompts, nodding towards the door. "I know it's kind of early, but—"
He falters when you seem to lose all strength, slumping into him with a ragged breath. Unconsciously, his grip on your legs tightens, just by a hair.
"Please." You swallow around a thick lump in your throat. "Please…I want to go home."
Nicholas usually isn't one to follow orders, but for you, he'll do just about anything. Ensuring your skirt stays covering your thighs, he shoulders the door open and strides down the hall, shielding you from the curious, drunken gazes of classmates and strangers alike.
His nose wrinkles. Sex, booze, and pot is what he smells, even stronger than earlier. He quickens his pace and tries his best not to jostle you too much with his movement down the stairs, lest you be more uncomfortable than you already are.
"You don't have to carry me," you mumble, your mouth all too close to his ear. "People will stare."
Nicholas side-steps a pool table. "I know I don't have to. Would you like me to?"
You're quiet. That's his sign to keep moving.
He mutters quiet excuse me's as he moves through the swell of bodies. The door is just on the other side of this coffee table, and you'll both be free of this sweat-infused hellhole—
Red hair catches his eye. He falters for a moment.
Euijoo is still keeping an eye on the beer pong table, but he watches Nicholas keeping you close against him. He blinks once. Tilts his head.
Nicholas' eyes narrow. If you make me come over for another fucking lecture, I swear, Byun Euijoo…
His leader glances at you again and nods. Go, he mouths.
That's all Nicholas needs to dart out the door and down the sidewalk towards his car.
Under his chin, you sniffle. "I feel fucking pathetic."
"What's pathetic," Nicholas mutters, lowering your feet to the ground gently so that he can grab his keys, "is his stupid, cowardly ass."
He unlocks the passenger's side door and helps you in. You curl into yourself almost immediately, your stare blank and wet with grief. His windows are tinted, though — no one can see you once the door closes in front of you.
Right as he turns to head to the driver's side—
A tall, familiar silhouette stands faintly against the side of the frat house. A shorter one with a long ponytail clings to its side.
And just because he's outside now, and you're safe in the car, he looses a long, gutteral growl. Territorial. Protective.
Stay away, his wolf threatens. Before I tear you apart.
It's tempting. He wouldn't feel guilty about it.
The crunch of metal brings him back from his anger-laced haze. He jerks away from the car and glances at where his fingers have literally dipped into the hood, leaving a faint — but unmistakable — mark.
He just sighs.
Fuck. This.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
The next day is…rough, to say the least.
It's not like he expects anything different; you and Kaito were together for two years, and even though it always ground his gears, Nicholas knows that deep down, you'd wanted to marry him someday. Nice wedding, grand reception, with all too much booze for everyone there.
He'd only tried calling you three times. Three, before leaving a voicemail. "Hey, there. If you're hearing this, I think you might have found my girlfriend's phone…she must've lost it. Call me back so I can give it to her, please."
Stupid, arrogant asshole. Nicholas wanted to chuck the phone through a wall.
You're barely able to speak past a quiet thank you or curses falling on otherwise un-present ears. All you can do is cry, and it splinters his heart more than it should.
"He said he loved me," you choke. "Why the hell would you lie about that?"
Nicholas has no response to that — he just shifts from where he perches on the couch and lets your tears soak into his shirt.
"Did I do something wrong?" He snaps to attention at your anxious whisper. "Is this supposed to be some, like, vengeance plot?"
His arms tighten around you. "Absolutely not. You devoted yourself to him completely, and he took advantage of that. It's not your fault he's a piece of shit."
"I should've noticed." You let out a strangled gasp and wrench yourself away from him. He takes the loss of contact like he would a bullet wound — his wolf howls, so loudly that it rings through his ears. "You said…Oh, gods." You choke. "You told me he was sketchy. And I—"
"Did nothing wrong," Nicholas says firmly. "You were in love. You gave him everything you had. I was in the wrong for giving you my unsolicited opinion at the time."
Your head tilts towards him, and something inside cracks at the humiliating desperation in your widened eyes. "What else did he do," you breathe, "that you never told me about?"
That's a…complicated question.
You see, Nicholas holds grudges like addicts pop pills — with pleasure. Every little thing about Kaito, from the way he walked to the way he talked, irked the wolf with an ease that he's too proud to admit to.
That's not to say, though, that he didn't notice the actual problems. Wandering eyes. A smirk, quirked at the ends, shot towards other women. Suggestive remarks about your friends that, while you found innocent, Nicholas found revolting.
Gods, how did you even fall for that dickhead?
"Truthfully," he says, "I just didn't really like him. I thought he was annoying as fuck."
"But…" You swipe a hand over your face like it can help you win the argument."You said you didn't think he was trustworthy. And—" The laugh that leaves you is anything but humorous — "you were right. As always."
He winces. "I don't think any men you like are trustworthy, babe."
You swallow. "I should've listened."
Nicholas shakes his head. As much as he agrees with the sentiment — fuck, he'd been saying that for months — it's not worth gloating over when it has you like this.
"Hey," he says gently, (admittedly, selfishly) pulling your body back into his own. "You could've never predicted that something like this would happen. No one can predict the future." He pauses. "Unless you're, like, one of those shitty TV oracles."
At that, the corner of your lip twitches up for a fraction of a second. It's not much, but it's enough to settle Nicholas' nerves. "A shitty TV oracle?"
"Yeah." He smirks in spite of himself. "You know. Call the number. Your future awaits. Only $29.99."
You're quiet for a second. "Thirty dollars is a shitty deal for the future."
"I'm saying." Nicholas glances over at the clock on the wall. It's 5:42. "Hey, you want me to order dinner? Or do you just want leftovers from yesterday?"
You bite the inside of your cheek, your gaze curling into something more delicate than he's used to. "I…" You stop.
Nicholas tilts his head. "Not up to food?" You hadn't found the strength to eat anything after the party. Last night was the first time you'd ate an actual meal, and it was hard to even stomach it.
Your head drops, slightly ashamed. He just tsks and pulls you closer. "Don't be embarrassed. If you feel sick, you feel sick."
"I don't want to feel sick," you mumble into his bicep. "He probably feels just dandy."
His wolf grumbles at the mention. Nicholas swallows it and huffs quietly. "You know…I could totally ask-"
"Nooo. You can't ask your pack to hunt him down."
"Come on! We'd have a field day. We'd just be scaring him, anyway."
"And he'd be calling the cops," you insist, though there's a small twinkle in your eye that entrances Nicholas. He wants to see more of it.
"Eh." He shrugs. "We could outrun them. Harua's faster than you give him credit for."
"Harua is innocent!" you gripe, poking Nicholas in the chest with a sharpened nail. "Don't include him in your crime scheme."
Harua is anything but innocent, he thinks dryly. "You just think he's cute."
"Everyone thinks he's cute," you point out, and you're not wrong.
"Already looking ahead, huh?" Nicholas tries at a joke, but judging by the way your face slackens at that, he knows he's fucked up.
Shit. Good going, Yixiang.
You're quiet for a moment, and Nicholas' heart thunders in his chest. Then: "Say…If I download Tinder—"
He blinks. "I— Do not download Tinder!"
"If I download Tinder, I'm not swiping right without your approval."
"Do not download Tinder," he repeats, mirth bleeding into his tone. You're not hurt. Good. "That's, like, the worst thing you could do right now."
You rest your head against his shoulder wordlessly, eyes sparkling with something unfortunately familiar. Your phone is in your hand in a second, and Nicholas' eyes widen. As if you can sense the change, you snort and cuff him on the back of his neck, avoiding his hair.
"Easy, loverboy," you say dryly. "I don't wanna talk to anyone. I'm sad, pissed, and sick. I wanna talk shit on someone."
Your voice is still raspy from sobbing, and your skin is sticky from tears and mucus. You haven't changed out of your pajamas, and there's a stain of marinara sauce on your shirt from the pizza you ate together last night. You look like a total disaster, yet…
You want to scroll on Tinder to make fun of men.
That's Nicholas' best friend, right there.
He cracks a feline grin and stares down at the pink loading screen. "Your coping mechanisms are so odd."
"You can't say that. You dyed your hair blue when Aeri broke it off with you."
Nicholas frowns. "That was just an impulse decision."
"It was," you agree, "and that's how we got blue Weno." You pause. "Bweno."
At that, he groans and points at the screen. "Put in your email before I find those pictures of the red hair from sophomore year."
"It looked good," you pout, your nails clicking against your phone screen. "Plus, it made us look like 3-D glasses. It was iconic."
"We looked like Fireboy and Watergirl," he says dryly, "but genderbent."
"Is that why Euijoo wanted us to get together so badly?" you ask. "Because we both dyed our hair and failed every relationship we were in?"
Nicholas almost chokes.
No, he almost says. Euijoo wanted us together because he can't help but stick his nose where it doesn't belong, and the tall bastard read my journal.
He quickly recovers. "Ouch," he tries to joke. "Pretty harsh there."
You tap your screen a few more times, the bluelight illuminating your swollen eyes. "I just got cheated on. Let me cope."
Nicholas grimaces at the reminder, and then shakes his head.
As long as it makes you happy, he thinks. As long as it makes you happy.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
A week later, Nicholas is just about to fall asleep when his nose twitches, hooking around the scent of coconut perfume and old leather.
"You should be asleep, dummy," he mumbles, pressing his face into his pillow. "Go back to bed."
Your answer comes from the door. "Bold of you to assume I was in bed in the first place."
He frowns into his pillow case. But you've been so…quiet for the past few hours. Surely he'd have heard you if you'd been milling around, right? Or maybe you've been staring restlessly at your ceiling while time ticks away.
Good on you, Yixiang. And you call yourself her best friend.
With a small groan, he lifts his blanket up and shivers when some of the warmth escapes.
You cough over something — it sounds like a tiny inhale — and shake your head. "I was actually wondering if you wanted to go on a 7-Eleven run with me."
"Huh?" Nicholas lets the blanket fall back over his naked torso. "It's past midnight. Why do we need to go to 7-Eleven?"
"For bonding, obviously." You shuffle some cash in your pocket. "You know. And Slurpees."
Honestly, Nicholas is more relieved by that than anything else. You're not one to mope for too long — you never have been — but a part of him was convinced that he'd need to scrape you off the sidewalk and guard the front door like a sentry.
Well…he kind of is. When he's not soothing you back to sleep or letting you cry and cling to him, he paces in the living room and glares at the door like it may come alive. His wolf is restless, angry. It tries to take control at the most inopportune of times, and it's not subtle, either; he's woken up a number of times from dreams of incessant howling with his claws half-out, or his pupils condensed into slits. He usually just stares at himself in the mirror for a moment and slumps back into his pillows.
But waking him at one in the morning for Slurpees? Really?
"No," he says into his pillow. "Goodnight."
For a second, he thinks he could fall back asleep. That you're giving up.
"Fiiiine," you sigh, turning on one heel with a small squeak from your shoe. "Guess I'll go by myself, then. Alone. In the dark."
Fuck no. He rolls over and out of his bed with swift reflexes, socked feet hitting the ground with muffled thuds.
"You're a menace," he says, yanking an old hoodie from the back of a chair before he meets you at the front door. "Why the hell would you go out by yourself at night?"
"I wouldn't, obviously." You tug him through the door. "I just needed you up."
The 7-Eleven across the street is surprisingly empty, you both find. You take the liberty of sitting yourself on the counter, subtly flipping off people who stare with hands sticky with dried Slurpee. You select cherry, while Nicholas opts for blue raspberry.
"Bweno never dies," you laugh, nudging his cup. "He's just reincarnated."
"Fuck off," he groans, shoving gently at your knee. "It just tastes the best."
"Yeah?" You tap his wrist with a sticky finger. He grimaces. "Lemme try it."
He raises the colorful straw to your lips and almost flinches at the sudden purr that rings through his ears — not from you, but from inside of him.
His ears turn a bright shade of strawberry red. "Zip it!" he hisses at his wolf. "It's not like that!"
"Ours," it whispers back. "This is the right way."
A low growl builds in his chest, but his frustration shatters when you nudge him with your cup. "Now mine."
He blinks. It takes him a few moments to comprehend your words.
Now mine.
Oh. Yes. He clumsily reaches for your cup and takes a sip, the cherry concoction spreading across his cold tongue. It's nice, but not as good as his own Slurpee. There's something that cuts through that hinders the flavor. It's almost like…vanilla?
He pauses. Ah. That would be your chapstick.
He shifts against the counter and hands you your cup. "It's good, but mine's still better."
You kick him and stick your tongue out before you hop off the counter. He watches you stride towards the door with a single middle finger raised. "Please. Cherry will always be supreme."
Nicholas swipes a cool, slightly sticky hand across his forehead before he follows you. His wolf still purrs in his ears, satisfied by your shared Slurpees and the taste of vanilla on his tongue. That's not why Nicholas' cheeks feel hot, though.
Your tongue is purple. He can imagine his is, too.
Somewhere, deep in his brain, he groans.
I am so fucked.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
The energy starts to change in bursts. They're tiny, unnoticeable, but impossible to ignore.
Kaito attempts to call each day, but never tries to come over. It's for the best, really. He may not know about Nicholas' true nature, but he knows his personality, as does he know about Nicholas' friends.
Imagine if Fuma got involved. Yikes.
It's a Thursday evening when he suggests a walk by the river — a place where you both find it easy to clear your heads. Between your situation and his wolf being a damn prick, you both need the time.
You glance at the sunset over the water, shielding your eyes. The light illuminates them anyway, making them glow in a similar way to Nicholas' when he's in his other form. It makes him wonder, for a split second, what you'd look like as a wolf. Would your eyes glow like this? Would they take on a preternatural color like K's do? Would your claws be as sharp as your acrylic nails, or would they be blunt from how often you used to chew them?
It's a silly thought. That doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy picturing it, though.
"Do you think the sun is meant to be alone?"
Nicholas glances at you from the corners of his eyes. You wear a thoughtful expression — not upset, per se, but not content either.
His brow furrows. "What do you mean?"
Your fingers fidget with the seam of your loose tee. "Like…" You hesitate. "The sun is a star that's far away from all the other stars. It's millions of miles from Earth, and it's never close to the moon. I just…"
Your voice gets soft. "I can't help but wonder if it's meant to be alone forever, you know?"
He's silent for a minute, considering your words. Obviously, you're not talking about the sun. While you've definitely had your higher moments as of late, you're still not completely yourself. Deep down, Nicholas fears you might never return to that state.
He draws in a deep breath. "I think," he says quietly, "that it might be lonely a lot of the time. That doesn't mean it's always alone."
"It never gets to see the moon, though." Your eyes narrow as you stare directly into the light. "They never cross paths."
Nicholas tilts his head. "Not necessarily," he replies. "You just have to wait for an eclipse. They become one there."
"Not a lot of time together, then."
"No," he agrees. "But they still pull each other around. The moon still gets lit by the sun. They're lucky enough to exist at the same time, and they'll last for longer than we know."
With a soft grip, he pulls you in front of him so he can really look into your eyes. You're not crying, not yet, but the beginnings of tears in your waterline are obvious enough to him.
"Hey," he murmurs. "Where's this coming from?"
You avoid his concerned gaze, and his wolf whines softly. "It's stupid," you mumble.
"Humor me, babe."
"I've just been thinking — overthinking, really — about him. About everything." You shuffle uncomfortably. "And I…I don't know. I just can't picture myself ever being loved like that again."
That's because he didn't love you.
"Fuck," you sigh. "I'm sorry, Nico. I know that's stupid—"
"No," he cuts you off. "It's not stupid to be upset. You were together for a long time. You're not going to be—" He waves a hand— "magically over it in two weeks."
"I should be angrier. I don't have to be so…mopey about it." You cross your arms over your chest.
"You don't get to decide how you feel," Nicholas replies. "You just feel. You have every right to cry and be upset as much as you do to be angry."
Though, he thinks, I think I cover that part well enough.
You flinch. His gaze snaps back to you, instinctive and assessing. He realizes, after a moment, you didn't flinch — you shivered. Goosebumps pattern against your arms. How had he not noticed the chill?
He quickly strips his hoodie off and offers it over. "You should've said you were cold."
You don't reach out for it. "It's not that bad."
Nicholas is just as stubborn as you, if not more. His arm doesn't move. "Take the jacket."
"But you'll get cold!"
"I'm a wolf," he reminds you. "I run hot. Take it."
You both stand there for what feels like an extensive amount of time before you groan and relent, reaching for his hoodie and pulling it over your head.
"Damn," you say, head still lost in the fabric. "Did you get strawberry cologne? That's bold, even for you."
Strawberry? Nicholas frowns. No. He buys the occasional Dior perfume, maybe Gucci, but never strawberry. He already smells of them.
Wait.
"How the hell can you smell that?" he asks, eyebrows shooting to his hairline. "That's part of my scent."
"Is it?" You sniff again and blink. "Yeah. Those are strawberries. Maybe a bit of lime?"
Nicholas feels like he might faint.
"Either way, it smells good."
He digs his nails into his palms. How the hell can you smell his scent? You're human — your nose isn't sensitive enough for that.
"You already know," his wolf purrs. "You're in denial."
He grits his teeth. "Fuck. Off."
"Weno?" You poke him with the tip of an acrylic nail. "You okay?"
Nicholas draws in a shaky breath and smiles weakly. "Yeah. The sun's just doing me in."
He takes deeper breaths, but they do nothing to fill his lungs. If anything, he realizes with dread, it just suffocates him even more.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Later that night, Nicholas lies awake in his bed, his chest heaving with something desperate. His wolf is too loud, and he can't make it fucking stop.
His rut isn't for another month. He's in the clear for that, at least. His sheets are soaked in sweat, regardless, and there's just no quieting the howling that rings in his ears.
The walls are too close. Your scent wafts through his door even though you're three doors down. His scent is even stronger, and all the more sour from stress.
He needs to run.
Nicholas grabs for that old hoodie and audibly whines at the coconut scent that rolls through the fabric. His wolf yips. He throws it on and fights the urge to scream at it to stop.
Not even bothering to reach for his shoes, he slips through the door and sprints down the stairs of the apartment complex towards the woods that back it. The chill of the midnight air feels good against his sweaty forehead, and its thinness streams into his lungs with ease. It's not enough.
Under the cover of trees, Nicholas shifts.
Bones rearrange and lengthen. His teeth morph into elongated, lethal canines. His feet hit the ground, and he's suddenly bigger, stronger than before.
His mind is still human, but his body is pure wolf.
He sprints through the woods, away from his home, away from his problems…away from you. He feels guilty. You're not an issue. You've never been an issue. You've always been…easy.
Why aren't you easy anymore?
He runs faster, pushes harder. Even if he has to run in circles for the night to avoid being seen, he'll do it. Anything to quiet the noise in his mind.
So he does. He runs for hours. They fly by in his head, and he's still not tired. Where has he gotten this kind of energy? Even on those play-hunts him and the boys go on sometimes, he's more lax than this.
Is he…breaking?
"Nicholas."
He skids to a halt, flanks rising and falling rapidly. His legs itch — he can't stop, he needs to keep running — but there's an underlying command in the sound of his name that forces him to pause.
He glances up and narrows his eyes at the auburn fur standing out against the rocky outcrop. "What are you doing out here, Euijoo?"
The lithe wolf stretches, the light of the moon making his fur glow like living flames. "I could say the same. I could feel your heart racing from miles away. We haven't seen you in weeks. Can you blame me for being concerned?"
Guilt cuts through Nicholas' racing thoughts. Now that he thinks about it, it has been a long time since he was with the pack. The last time he actually talked to Euijoo, not over text, was at the party.
Fuck. He growls softly, but there's no malice in his tone. "I…Shit. I didn't even realize…"
Euijoo pads over to Nicholas and rests his muzzle over his friend's. "Don't beat yourself up. I'm not mad. Just…concerned, is all." The russet wolf pulls away and looks him dead in the eye. "You aren't okay."
Nicholas can never lie to Euijoo. "I'm not."
Euijoo sits himself down and tilts his head, a gesture for Nicholas to copy. "Talk to me."
"I'm…not sure what I have to talk about," Nicholas admits, looking down at his paws. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Juju."
His leader — his brother just blinks calmly. "Start from the beginning."
Nicholas does.
All of it. The party, the nightmares, the urges. His wolf's unrelenting whispers, his restlessness, the thing with you and his scent.
You.
Euijoo doesn't interrupt, and courtesy of him being in his wolf form, his expression doesn't change, either. His eyes flicker, though; between concern and interest, and then understanding.
"Ah," he says after a while of silence. "She's your mate."
"No!" Nicholas yelps, his frustration building. "She can't be. She's my best friend who was just cheated on—"
"And your wolf is seeing the opportunity," Euijoo replies calmly. "That's why you can feel her nerves, and she can smell your scent. Your wolf is reaching."
"How do I get it to stop?" Nicholas snaps, his strawberry musk souring. "She's not something to claim, Euijoo. She's mybest friend. That's it."
Euijoo lowers his head — a calming gesture — as his orange scent surrounds Nicholas. "Easy," he reasons, ever patient. "You don't need to panic, Nico. It's not something to be scared of. It's just our way."
"Our way," Nicholas echoes with a snarl, his ears flattening. "She's human, Euijoo! I can't just drop by her bed and say,'Hey, babes. We're actually interconnected by magic forces.' That would be so fucking unfair to her."
"And it's not to you?" Euijoo's eyes narrow as he looks Nicholas up and down. "You can't hide it from me, you know. You're not doing well. You're going to get sick if you keep neglecting yourself for her sake."
"She was just cheated on," Nicholas emphasizes again, baring his teeth.
"And you've been in love with her for years."
"I don't matter in this equation." Nicholas takes a step back, his hackles rising. "I never have. Her happiness comes first."
"Sit down," Euijoo orders, only moving when Nicholas inevitably collapses under the weight of the command. He pads over and gently takes Nicholas' neck in his jaws — not biting, but holding. Waiting. "That won't work, and you know it. You'll die if you ignore it for too long."
Nicholas snarls weakly, but he can't force himself to move when he's so tangled in his leader. His wolf is split, angry at Euijoo's audacity and grateful for the display of dominance. It's his anchor in the swell of a storm, his tether in a hurricane of dread and panic. He hasn't allowed himself to collapse in weeks, and he knows it shows in both his forms.
"Listen to me," Euijoo growls quietly. "I'm not telling you that you have to ask her out. I'm not saying that you need to overstep. I'm not even saying that you need to tell her about any of this. But you can't neglect yourself. I won't sit here and let you kill yourself because you feel bad for her.
"I'm sorry about what happened. Really, it sucks, and her ex is a piece of shit. But she's not the only one getting hurt here."
Something stings in Nicholas' chest, and his wolf howls once more in his brain, rattling his skull. He thinks he flinches imperceptibly, but Euijoo notices — because he always notices.
Euijoo releases Nicholas and takes a few steps back to let his friend gather himself. "You should come home for a few days," he says softly. "Let yourself rest."
Nicholas shakes out his pelt and gazes up at the sky. It must be two or three in the morning by now. "No. I…No. I don't know what to do, but I need—"
"— To be near her," Euijoo finishes.
"Yes. No. I don't…" Nicholas looses a low whine. "Fucking hell."
"I'll leave." Euijoo stands. "But let me say this: You could ask anyone — me, Fuma, K, the pups — and we'd all have the same opinion. The final decision is up to you."
Nicholas hates making decisions. That's why Euijoo is the leader.
The auburn wolf nuzzles Nicholas' neck affectionately. "Stay safe. Please call someone soon. K's antsy, thinking you're in trouble."
"He's such a mom." Nicholas huffs quietly. "I'll be okay eventually."
Euijoo turns and retreats into the darkness. "Make sure eventually comes sooner rather than later. I'd hate to lose my brother."
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Mate. Mate. Mate.
Nicholas has no way of denying it, as much as he'd like to.
You're his mate.
He doesn't even need his wolf to tell him anymore. He can tell by the way that he can hear your quiet murmurs all the way from his room when you're in the kitchen. Your scent lingers in places where it shouldn't. He finds himself relaxing when you shove him around or lay on top of him, though you've done it thousands of times before.
How much would change, he wonders, if he did eventually say something? Would you accept it? Would you run? Would you laugh in his face?
Ultimately, Nicholas is a coward. He doesn't say a peep.
You're certainly not an idiot. You see how dark his undereyes become, how exhausted he is when you lay against him. You invite him into your room for sleepovers, like normal. Nicholas rarely takes advantage of them. It's unlike him, truly, but he doesn't trust himself at all.
He is a wolf, at the end of the day. Whether he wants it or not, you're his mate. What would happen if his wolf took over him randomly? What if he hurt you by accident?
He's never worried about that before. He's never had to.
You don't say anything about it, thank gods. Nicholas doesn't need confrontation right now. If anything, he needs a fucking nap.
A steady knock on the door changes that.
He knows the scent even from his bedroom. The suave cologne, spiced, pierced by the odor of a cigarette long tossed away. It always grossed him out, that smoking habit — but you never seemed to mind.
It was only a matter of time, he guesses, until Kaito got the balls to show up.
Nicholas' canines burst out before he can stop them, his vision tunneling like it did at the party. His wolf snarls and thrashes angrily, demanding that he take on this male that's trespassing on his territory — but he calms it with a simple No.
You cannot beat his ass. You will not beat his ass. You will not look like a fucking monster.
"I've got it!" comes your cheerful call. Nicholas' eyes widen. Shit, he'd thought you were asleep. Now he scrambles for the door, not even bothering to make himself look out together.
"Oh," he hears you say. Both his and your heart drop. He grips the threshold of his bedroom door and wills himself to just sit and listen, peeking around the corner subtly.
You're strong. You don't need him to protect you. He's been doing that for weeks, anyway.
"You've been avoiding me," Kaito says quietly from the door. "For weeks, baby. I thought you lost your phone after the party, but I guess I was wrong."
"First of all," you say, straightening to your full height, "don't call me that. Second, why are you surprised? I have every right to ignore you."
"Can I come in? I just—"
"No." It sounds like you begin to close the door, but then you falter. Or maybe you're stopped.
"Baby, please. It was one mistake—"
"You made the decision to get head from her."
"I was drunk."
"So?" Nicholas would be lying if he said he didn't find your cold tone extremely attractive. "I get drunk sometimes too, you know. I've never cheated on you."
"I…" Kaito sighs. "What do you want me to do? Get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?"
"No," you tell him flatly. "I want you to leave. We're done. We've been done."
His voice rises. Nicholas' hackles do, too. "Since when?"
"Since I saw some girl sucking you off at a fucking frat party!"
"I didn't even know her name. That's how little she meant to me."
Nicholas edges out of his room, slowly stalking towards the door.
"You think that's going to make me forgive you?" You laugh dryly. "You're actually an idiot. Wow."
"I'm just saying." Your ex has the audacity to sound offended. "You matter more to me than any girl in the world."
"I'm a woman," you correct him. "And clearly I don't, if you decided to fuck another woman who didn't know about us."
"For basis of comparison," Kaito argues, "Your favorite time of day is sunset. You prefer iced coffee to hot, you've been a fan of Twilight since you were 12, and your favorite color is light blue. I could go on, and I would, because I care. Give me a shot, babe. I'm not asking for much."
You open your mouth to respond, but your gaze meets Nicholas' as he steps behind the door. He's done. He's exhausted, emotionally fraught, and the stupid cigarette smell is pissing him off.
This is the first time he's let himself get this close to you in over a week. You do him a favor by taking a step back.
"Actually, her favorite color is silver." Nicholas fills the gap between you two with his eyes narrowed. "And if I heard correctly, she asked you to leave about five minutes ago. I can't possibly think of a reason as to why you're still here."
Kaito's eyes darken. For a second, Nicholas wonders if he, too, could possible be a wolf…but he knows that's impossible. He would've sensed that years ago.
"Nicholas," he greets curtly. "Sorry, man, but this is personal business. If you don't mind—"
"I do, actually." Nicholas grips the door and wills his claws to stay in. "I'll repeat myself: she asked you to leave. It's been my business since the moment I found her crying in a frat bedroom because your stupid ass decided to discard her."
"Discard?" Kaito snorts. "God, you're dramatic."
Nicholas can feel his wolf clawing at his chest, snarling for release. He just holds on and begs it to calm down. "Call it what you want. You're a dickhead. Leave."
"Just because she follows you around, doesn't mean you can tell me what to do, Wang."
"I don't follow him, asshole," you cut in, voice sharp. "He's been my best friend for longer than I've even known you. I think you're just jealous that I have friends to back me up."
"I'm jealous?" Kaito repeats, incredulous. "Please, baby. If anything, he's the jealous one. You're blind if you think he isn't completely head over heels for you."
Nicholas almost chokes.
His wolf snarls. The growl makes it into his chest, though inaudible.
"Oh, please," you reply blankly. "I bet you're into him. That's why you were always so obsessed with whether he was home or not when you came over."
"Can you really blame me?" Kaito gestures between you and Nicholas. "You live with and spend half of your time with another man. I could name ten times easily, the amount of times I wondered if you were secretly fucking behind my back."
The hand that holds the back of the door clenches. Long, knife-like claws slide out.
"What? Oh, my God. You're genuinely insane."
"I bet that's what you've been up to since the party." Kaito arches a brow, arms crossed like it might make him look more intimidating. "Does his dick feel as good as mine, baby?"
Nicholas' claws dig into the door.
"Has he seen the cute little look you get right before you cum?"
His wolf roars.
Kaito shakes his head with a tiny laugh. "You know, you always did tend to whore yourself out when you got too upset."
Nicholas feels his pupils flatten into slits.
He does not care that Kaito can see it.
He doesn't register the crack of bone until you yell his name and yank him back by his claw-free fist. He lets it happen, though his skull is filled with his wolf's murderous snarls. His vision comes in flashes — none of which he can connect at first:
The claw-marks on the back of the door.
His hand shaking and covered in blood.
Kaito, on the ground with a jaw that looks…not right.
You, eyes wide with panic.
With panic.
You're scared.
He scared you.
This is exactly what he'd been trying to fucking avoid.
You hiss something to your bloodied ex, something about leave and police and harassment. Nicholas doesn't hear.
Death, he thinks, would be most merciful in this moment.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Nicholas flees back to his room and doesn't come out for three days.
You don't push it.
Until today, that is.
Nicholas lies curled in a ball on his bed, facing the wall. Sweat streaks down his temples; the howling has only gotten worse. His wolf is furious. Euijoo and Fuma have both called him ten times. He does not reply.
He still can't sleep. He only dreams of you, anyway.
The knock on the door is soft. Tentative. Careful, like you expect him to explode again.
You're scared of him now.
"Nico?" Your voice is quieter than he's ever heard it. "I'm coming in whether you like it or not. I need to see you."
Nicholas would honestly rather you stab him. But you wouldn't do that, because you're not like him.
His door creaks open. Your socked feet pad softly against the floor.
His bed sinks as you take your place at the edge of his mattress. You don't lay against him, thankfully; he might actually start crying if you did.
You're quiet. You want him to start the conversation.
"I'm sorry." His voice is hoarse, like nails on a chalkboard. When was the last time he drank something?
"I don't know what for," you reply, nudging his muscled back with your knee. "You did what I wanted to do — and much more effectively, might I add."
There's humor in your tone. Nicholas holds onto it like a vise.
"If you're talking about this, though…Yeah. Talk to me, Weno. Please don't shut me out."
How does he even begin? There's too much to say, too much to think about. A plethora of singular words jam into his brain all at once: Mate. Monster. Eyes. Dickhead. Awful. Dead.
He starts with the easiest. "You're not…scared of me?"
He's not even looking at you, but he can tell that you're frowning. "No…? I've never been scared of you. Why would that change?"
"I put claw-marks in the door and almost killed your ex-boyfriend."
"You broke his jaw. I'd argue that that's not the same thing as attempted murder."
He sucks in a harsh breath. You wince. "Sorry. I'm not trying to argue. But, no. I'm not scared. I was upset, too."
"How the hell did you fall for such a dick?" he asks, not regretting his blunt tone.
"Don't know," you shrug. "I've been asking myself that for weeks now."
The room goes still and painfully silent. It remains that way for almost ten minutes. Finally, you shatter the ice. "We're gonna have to address it, you know."
Nicholas' wolf, in a rare act of synchronization with its human's emotions, whimpers.
He chuckles, though without humor. "About?"
Your hand finds his shoulder. He doesn't even have the will to move away.
"Stop being avoidant," you say. "You've been in here for three days, and I know it's not just because you think I'm scared of you."
Damn you. Damn you and your sharp perception.
"What do you want me to say?" Nicholas murmurs, all of his usual fight draining from his system. He doesn't have it in him to care anymore. "That he was right? That I've been in love with you for eight fucking years? That every part of me wanted to kick his ass for your entire relationship because my wolf was jealous? Is that what you want?"
You're stunned into silence.
Nicholas slowly begins to regret his entire existence, but he doesn't stop talking. The top of the wine bottle has already been uncorked.
"It reaches for you. That's why you could smell my scent. That's why I can't fucking sleep half the time. I can't ignore it or push it away, but I've tried regardless, because you don't deserve this. Not from me. Not from anyone."
You swallow, eyes darting between his limp form and your own hands. "Deserve…what, exactly?"
"The lack of choice," Nicholas groans. "Me pursuing you when you just ended a relationship. Your best friend pursuing you. You're not my puppy-crush-mate-whatever. You're my best friend, and I—"
He cuts himself off with a desperate little growl. "I can't lose you."
You're silent for longer than he would like. If you reject him here, maybe he can drag himself away to lick his wounds at the pack's house and hibernate for a couple of years.
Finally, after what seems like light-years: "…Is that what those are? Those dreams?"
Nicholas' heart comes to a dead stop.
"…Excuse me?"
"Ever since the party," you begin hesitantly, "I've been having…weird dreams. Wolves. Howling. I thought I'd just spent too much time around you and the guys, but…"
Nicholas clenches his fist and digs his sharp nails into his palm. He swallows against the hope that breaks through the dark cloud in his mind and forces it into submission.
"Probably," he manages. "But that doesn't mean you need to accept it. It's just wolf shit. If you reject it — me — right now, it'll stop."
You shift on the bed, and Nicholas thinks for a moment that you actually might do it. He can't tell what strikes through him faster — relief or fear.
He finds himself being rolled over to lay on his back, staring up at your face. Your brows are furrowed, jaw set.
"Why the hell would I reject you, dumbass?"
His eyes widen. "Wha—"
"I've been thinking," you interrupt, "for weeks, you know. How you've always been here for me. Always. You know me better than anyone and treat me better than any man I've ever been interested in."
Nicholas tries to cut in. "Well—"
"And you're telling me to reject you?" You arch a brow, looking terribly stern. "Wang Yixiang, have you lost your mind?"
Oh, fuck. Not the government name.
"You can't really blame me," he mumbles, sheepish. "I didn't wanna force this onto you."
You squeeze his arm gently. His wolf lets out a tiny, embarrassing yip. "And you're sweet for that, Weno. But I'm not rejecting you. Not now, not ever. You're too important to me for that."
He dares to look up, into your eyes. The light that seeps in through his curtains catches onto your irises. For a split second, they remind him of the sun.
"So…" He blinks, his hand coming dangerously close to brushing against the one that steadies you on the bed. "What now? If you're not rejecting me…"
You glance out the window and then back down at him. "You need to get out of this room," you tell him, your tone leaving no room for argument. "You up for a Slurpee?"
Nicholas, for the first time in days, grins. His wolf howls and whispers, "Good. Ours. Complete."
❝ ( アンドチーム ) . koga yudai x fem!reader | 1,327 words. | fluff, uncle!yudai, meet-cute, strangers to?, witty banter, y/n has a nephew named ren
it was the kind of warm, lazy afternoon chiba park granted a sky clear enough to make to make sunglasses necessary, a breeze soft enough not to disturb the pages of a paperback, and just enough birdsong to make the world feel like it was humming under its breath.
yudai had slipped away from the noise of the week, peaceful and alone with his book and the sun. he chose a spot between two trees for its perfect triangle of shade, closer to the main path, and if he was being honest because it was it was within view of mother’s with toddlers passing by but not so close where’s that he’d make anyone uncomfortable.
a few pages in, he’d barely begun to care about the protagonists terrible life choices when he noticed the wobble.
more specifically: the baby wobble. that unsteady, heart-melting toddle that usually ends in giggles or grass-stained knees.
the baby, gloriously unaware of personal space, was making a beeline for yudai’s blanket. he blinked once, then twice, setting his book against his chest as the tiny human collapsed beside him.
“hi there,” yudai said, amused.
the baby babbled something that sounded that sounded vaguely threatening and sat directly on yudai’s knee.
“ren!” you called, half-jogging over. “oh god — i’m so sorry, he just started walking and thinks he owns everything.”
yudai looked up. you were slightly winded, diaper bag sliding down one arm, a frazzled sort of charm radiating off you.
“all good,” yudai said. “friendly little guy, huh?”
you scooped up ren with an apologetic smile. “sorry again. he’s got a radar for snacks and shoes.”
“no, my fault,” yudai said, smirking. “i picked this spot on purpose. didn’t want to make moms with toddlers uncomfortable.”
“well. plot twist. i’m not the mom.”
“no?”
“just the aunt. my sister and her husband are on a rare ‘pretend we’re not exhausted’ date. i volunteered.” you stared at ground like you regretted everything. “brave, stupid move.”
yudai actually laughed, an open, real sound that made ren beam.
“i get it. i’ve got a niece. i’d do anything for her. including getting sneezed on without warning.”
“well then,” you said, “you’re in luck. he’s teething again. basically a fountain of drool and regrets.”
ren drooled in support of this claim. yudai chuckled.
“can i hold him?”
“sure,” you said, already dropping down to join him on the blanket. “but i’m not joking about the drool. and he bites.”
ren flung his arms around yudai’s neck with zero hesitation and promptly drooled all over his shoulder.
yudai winced and laughed at the same time. then ren started munching on yudai’s fingers like a gummy vampire. “kid,” yudai winced again, “we just met.”
you snorted. “he moves fast.”
yudai shifted ren into his lap with the kind of practiced ease that only came from loving a small human. the baby beamed and, as foretold, bit his pinky with gummy menace.
“ow,” yudai said mildly, “strong gums.”
“sorry.” you said. “he’s like a puppy. a very cute, slightly dangerous puppy.”
“i’ve met worse.” yudai grinned. “he’s terrifying. but charming.”
a beat.
“i’m y/n, by the way,” you said, glancing at ren.
“yudai,” he replied.
ren was now patting yudai’s chest like it was a sofa he might buy. you scrambled through the bag for his toys since he clearly thinks this poor man was furniture, and tossed yudai a spare bib.
you talked. played. shared stories about nieces and nephews, vanishing baby socks, and snack pouches. you told him about ren’s obsession with opening every cabinet in the house which he shares a similar issue.
at one point, ren sat between you both, chewing on a dinosaur, making determined noises as he tried to stand and yudai helping him to his little feet.
“you’re really good with him,” you said, watching yudai balance the baby and offer a tambourine with one hand.
“thanks. i think kids are kind of magical, honestly.”
“you say that now. wait until he sneezes into your mouth.”
he grimaced. “still magical. just… gross magic.”
later, you coaxed ren into walking between you, crouched a few feet apart, arms wide. he’d lurch like a wind-up toy, collapse, reset, repeat. you clapped like it was the baby olympics.
you raised your phone to snap a picture of ren mid-squat, focusing intensely on eating a rice cracker — then froze.
“oh god — sorry, i didn’t mean to catch you in that. i didn’t even ask—”
yudai shrugged. “don’t worry. he looks like he’s solving world hunger. you’ve got to keep that.”
“you sure?”
“actually…” he pulled out a digital camera. not a phone. a real camera. “mind if i take one? you and him?”
you blinked. “uh… sure.”
you tried to smooth your clothes, fix ren’s hair, he immediately messed it up and smiled.
yudai looked at the preview and grinned. “great one. what’s your instagram? i’ll send it later.”
you gave it, trying not to overthink him asking for your your handle (not like it was your phone number, anyways), adding, “please ignore all of the baking fails and aggressively filtered sunsets.”
“can’t wait.” he scrolled. “look — that’s my niece. my favorite recent picture.”
you leaned in. “oh my god. look at her fairy wings.”
“that was her pirate princess garden party phrase.”
“icon.” you chuckled, knees almost touching. the breeze brought goosebumps to your arms. you pulled out your hoodie. you sat cross-legged, swapping more snacks and stories. he gasped when ren faceplanted in slow motion. you told him about the diaper explosion that nearly broke you.
“you’re a fun uncle.” you said.
“i try. she’s got me wrapped around her tiny little finger.”
“oh yeah? who’s cooler? uncle yudai or aunt y/n?”
he sat up straighter. “battle of the century. go on then. make your case.”
you grinned. “i crocheted plush dolls of the bluey characters.”
he clutched his chest, wounded. “strong start. but i learned how to do glitter braids. she was in a unicorn hair phase.”
“damn.” you muttered. “okay. i babysat overnight during teething week. survived on banana milk and prayers.”
“i took her to the izu teddy bear museum and voiced every bear like they were auditioning for pixar.”
you narrowed your eyes. “you’re good.”
he leaned in, smug. “i’m koga yudai.”
ren clapped like he knew he was the prize.
“how about one more.” yudai held up the camera. “the three of us.”
you moved closer. ren squirmed, slipped out of the frame. the final shot caught just the two of you, mid-laugh, eyes locked.
something passed there.
warm. unspoken.
ren then began to fuss. you checked the time and sighed.
“alright, little man. you’ve drooled on a stranger and tried to flee the premises. pretty solid afternoon.”
you stood, gathering toys and the baby with yudai’s help as well.
“thanks,” you said, “for all of this. it was nice meeting you.”
“hopefully i’ll be seeing you again. and little baby ren.” yudai says, ren babbling and clapping like he understood. “or maybe just you.” yudai adds.
you smiled big, too wide, like an idiot and tried avoiding his eyes then. “maybe.” you shrug.
yudai smirked. “great. i’ll send the photos later.”
you nodded. “see you around, yudai.”
he watched you walk away, ren waving with both hands from your hip. the sunset rays held on you a second longer than it needed to.
when you disappeared from view, yudai began to pack up as well when he reached for his book and found tucked under the blanket: one of ren’s toys.
he held it up, smiled.
“well,” he said softly, “guess i’ll be seeing you sooner than i thought.”
synopsis | secrets dont make friends, but they do make excellent fuck buddies.
details | fwb!yuma x female!reader, angst, trust issues, secret relationship, jealousy is a disease, ot9 friend group ayy, nicholas is tearing this family apart, mentions of drinking, SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, exhibitionism, car sex, handjob, blowjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, spanking, cum eating, finger licking, spit play, tongue sucking, ass grabbing, cursing, lowercase intended, requested
wc | 5.6k
from the author | I JUST MADE SOME BULLSHITTTTT
yuma knew from the start that it was a bad idea, but it was so worth it to have you under him, mewling in your unmade bed before your morning lecture. or on top of him, grinding desperately on his couch before his roommates came home from a night out. or even beside him, like now, arm stretched over the center console of his car, jerking the attitude out of him after a party.
it was all yuma's idea, of course, to hook up secretly. "everybody wins," he had said, "we get to fuck and nobody has to change." and you thought change was an odd word for the circumstances. if yuma hated labels, he could have said that, since you were fine with keeping it casual, nameless, going with the flow. it would be easy since you and yuma were inseparable to start with. no one would suspect anything as long as you held up your end of the deal:
there would be no labels except for one- secret.
and this was for a very, very selfish reason that yuma acknowledged every night before he slept. he wasn't ashamed of you; the opposite was true. he found it incredibly difficult to keep his hands off you in public, only daring to try anything one specific time at a restaurant where the booth was so cramped, you had to squeeze all the way to the wall to fit two of the boys into the seat with you. yuma's broad shoulders masked the direction of his hand, sliding so menacingly up your leg.
you had integrated so smoothly into his friend group way before the two of you considered doing anything sexual or even romantic with each other, having been paired with taki and harua in one of your university courses. they invited you one evening to their place to practice the presentation portion of the group project, during which they held their roommates hostage as a makeshift audience. jo enjoyed the visual design elements on your presentation, but yuma had nothing constructive to say, confessing only that "the font was distracting" and suggesting that you "add an intermission for that long as hell speech in the middle," which was simply the presentation itself. in the end, you changed the font and added some interactive, performance elements to make the "speech" less boring. and you kept going to their apartment every weekend for game nights and movie marathons.
your dynamic shifted, of course, with the introduction to their extended friend group, specifically to nicholas whom you thought was incredibly friendly but, according to yuma, unnaturally shy around you. this only intrigued you, however, since you thought he was quite forward with you, asking you questions about your hobbies and your favorite color and how you knew yuma. what was he like normally?
you found out rather quickly. as you started getting closer to yuma, nicholas began to make himself known. hed facetime you on random saturday nights, asking you to help him pick an outfit as if you were the fashion expert in the group. he had invited you to karaoke night at the groups favorite bar on several occasions, but he didnt really expect you to bring the rest of the boys with you, too. nicholas had even gone so far as to ask you what your dream date was, looking hopeful, childlike. it broke your heart to know you'd probably never feel the same. because you knew he liked you.
yuma knew he liked you.
and yet yuma still asked you to take your relationship further, despite knowing just how much nicholas wanted to make you his. it wasnt too unbelievable to think that it would ruin everything if any of them found out what you two have been up to. friendships older than yours with yuma, with any of them, would crumble, fissured. definitely not irreparable, but the dynamics would be altered. the trust would be shattered. and you knew better than anyone that trust was everything.
that's part of the reason you and yuma wound up in your third fight of the night. first, he was late picking you up but still had the nerve to ask you to change from your jeans into that dress he liked. you changed, but it still pissed you off. and then, he became suddenly very picky about what station his car radio was on, whining every time you suggested listening to something other than the 70s top 100. this wasn't even the source of the argument, though. it was because he eventually caved and connected his phone to bluetooth, only to play a playlist called "70s Top 100" with the most shit-eating grin.
your bickering was usually like this, lighthearted, desperately unserious, but the third argument lingered thick in the air.
"are you lost?"
you had gasped as you wove past the couch, halting in place when you felt the rough fingers wrap, contrastingly delicate, around your wrist. your gaze trailed up the worn leather of his jacket, draped over his broad shoulders, until you focused on the playful smirk that tilted his lips. you hated that the familiar voice was so comforting, that the sight of him sent some form of relief through you. but at least you knew nicholas would make however much longer you had to stay here at least tolerable.
the party was exactly like any of the others your friends had dragged you to in the past: sticky floors, cheap liquor, and thin walls. your head was pounding, either from the veil of smoke in the air or the constant thrum of bass that muddled the music more and more the further you got from the speaker. you were more than ready to go home, having stood against the wall sipping some mystery drink for nearly half an hour. you could only do small talk for so long before it began to feel like a standoff for whatever corner you had claimed. you were both over and under whelmed with this party in particular, which you had only come to because taki had begged and begged. "the more people i bring, the cooler i look," he had pleaded, "just for one hour, pleaseeee." and who were you to say no?
"not lost," you shook nicholas from your wrist, rolling your eyes, "looking for yuma. hes supposed to drive me home."
"ah," nicholas sighed. he shifted his gaze, then, somewhere distant. he pulled his lip between his teeth quickly, his hand gesturing vaguely behind you, "i think he went to the bathroom."
"okay, thanks," you pressed your mouth into a small smile and nodded, just in case he couldnt hear you over the burdensome bassline. but whether he heard you or not, he reached his hand back out to you as you moved to continue your search.
"wait," nicholas said, "wait for him with me."
this was the decision of the evening. it wasnt what shoes would be the most comfortable, which cup had the least toxic contents, which corner would keep you from having to flirt with strangers- it was this. it was nicholas, sitting with his thighs wide in the center of the sofa, ringed fingers dangling off your skin.
you could have said no.
"thats okay, nico," you shook your head, still smiling as if to say please just drop it, "there isnt even room. ill just-"
you should have said no.
"here," nicholas tapped the guy next to him on the couch once, pointing him elsewhere in the room. he just moved, no question, and nicholas scooted, only slightly, to the right to make space for you. he pulled you closer to him by the wrist, and your feet moved with him until you sunk into the cushions. nicholas laughed as the plush material seemed to swallow you, "see, there's plenty of room."
you realized how compromising this looked. after standing all evening, you didnt hesitate to let the couch cradle your head. the alcohol simmered low in your chest, and you could feel every inch of nico's body along your own; his shoulder bumped yours as he chuckled, his thigh pushed yours closed, and his fingers still ghosted over your wrist, wandering toward your palm as you rested it on your lap.
nicholas still liked you- you knew this much. he'd told someone, who told someone, who told taki, who just cant keep his mouth shut. taki relayed the news to you in explicit detail about how nico's basically in love with you and he has crazy dreams about you and he cant figure out why youre still single.
"is he good to drive? yuma, i mean," nicholas angled his head to face you, if only so you could read his lips over the combined noise of the music and the shouting, "because i can always take you home if not."
"hes sober, yeah," you gave nicholas a small smile and slid your hand from his. and when you saw his face fall, you leaned over to press into his shoulder and laughed, "unless he's been in the bathroom taking shots for the last forty minutes."
nicholas didnt laugh, though. he breathed a little harder through his nose, but it wasnt a laugh. "yeah, unless," he sighed. you detected his annoyance, suddenly awkward. it wasnt often that your jokes crash landed, especially with nicholas. he fiddled with his rings, twisting them on his fingers, before he stretched his arm out and relaxed it over the back of the couch.
"he's great, isnt he?" nicholas let his fingertips thread into the back of your hair, the contact sending a chill up your spine. you hummed in response, eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of his hand massaging into your scalp. you didnt even care he was being an ass about the whole thing as he continued, "you'll just wait around forever for him?"
"mhm," you leaned your head back into his palm, not even considering what he meant by that, whether he meant tonight or in general. would you wait forever? you could basically feel his eyes burning holes into your skin, his gaze pointed and low while his lips settled into a pout. the heat pooled in your face, crept down your neck, and you knew he could see it. it made his pride swell to have some effect on you. you knew this, too.
when you opened your eyes and turned your head to look at him, he was already waiting for you, lids heavy. his lips were bitten and cast with a sheen, his tongue having freshly swiped across them. once, then twice. you'd have been a fool to not realize the game he was playing. who would give in first?
not you. not with yuma's voice cutting through the noise like a hot knife, melting right down the middle of the buzzing conversation around you and the pounding music and whatever thick emotion nicholas had doused the air between you with. you hadnt seen him approach the couch, although you guessed nicholas had from the way his face soured. from the way his hand tightened in your hair.
"you ready to go?" yuma asked. he hooked a finger under your chin, angling your face toward his own like he had so many times before. you felt your lips turn before you could stop them, pulling into a smile at the sight of him. his hair was tousled, a little sweaty and sticking just barely to his forehead. he looked like he needed some air, especially after he noticed that nicholas still had his hand on you. but yuma didnt let his composure break. instead, he tilted his head, letting go of your chin, "or are you two busy?"
"nope," nicholas huffed, popping the "p" between pursed lips. you breathed a laugh, if only to soften the cracks in nico's exterior beside you as he withdrew his arm. he cast a pointed gaze in yuma's direction, one that you couldnt exactly read as he said, "just, you know, waiting for you. no big deal."
something was different between the two of them, some air of tension that hadnt been there before. your first reaction was, of course, to poke some fun, make a few jokes. but nicholas was rigid beside you. yuma had his brows pulled together in a dumbfounded furrow, like he couldnt believe nicholas was talking to him in such a way, that nicholas was so handsy with you, and especially that you had allowed it all. you opted to keep your jokes to yourself. nothing could fix this more than just leaving.
"exactly. no big deal," you said, particularly lightheartedly, as you stood up, smoothing your clothes out in a swift motion. you stumbled just a bit from how low the couch was, and yuma reached his hand out to steady you, holding your elbow with a firm grip. he was always there to keep you upright. "im, like, beyond ready to go."
yuma held your coat out for you, angling it so you could easily slip your arms into it. the material was warm from being pressed against his torso for who knows how long. you started for the front door, waving over your shoulder, "thanks for waiting with me, nini."
and then he was guiding you toward the door, a possessive hand flexing on the small of your back. you couldnt have slowed down if you wanted to with the speed at which yuma was propelling the two of you out of the party, away from nicholas.
the chill of the night's breeze pinched at your burning skin as you waited for yuma to fish his keys out of his pocket, rocking back and forth on your heels. when you slid into the passenger seat, the cold leather was a welcome sensation on the underside of your thighs. you sucked in a sharp breath at the contrast between the chill of the car and the heat pulsing off of you as yuma sank into the drivers seat beside you, closing the door with a solid yank. he put his hands on the wheel but didnt move to twist the key in the ignition.
the silence was palpable, much different from the beginning of the night when the two of you bickered the whole twenty minute drive. he'd been more than fine the last time you saw him, leaving a reassuring squeeze on your hip in the middle of the crowded party when he disappeared to god knows where.
but, now, yuma just stared at the bumper of the car parked in front of him on the street. you followed his eyes to a cluster of stickers on the car's back window. there were some that appeared to be souvenirs from landmarks and vacations, others typical for pet owners like "I Heart My Domestic Shorthair!" he didnt seem to be particularly interested in any of them, just looking anywhere to avoid looking at you.
by this point, you knew that prying wouldnt get you anywhere. he'd stir and stir on the same problem until it consumed him, and you'd just have to sit there and watch. you could see it happening, the thoughts whirring behind his eyes, jaw clenched, knuckles white on the leather wheel. if you listened close enough, you could have heard the thrum of his heart pulsing under the electrical buzz of the automatic overhead lights. yuma tilted his head to face you, finally, his hair falling into his eyes just enough to compel you. you wanted to reach over the center console, push his hair up and back.
"nini?" yuma dragged, rolling the bitter taste of the nickname around on his tongue.
after all this time, you still didn't know how to handle yuma when he was like this. visibly indifferent, but his tone was laced with an edge of irritation. you wished there was a magic word to snap him out of his own head, especially given your special situation. there were few situations that couldnt be solved with a bit of communication, but yuma really liked to make things difficult for you.
you felt the need to roll your eyes but decided against it. instead, you mirrored him, tilting your head, turning your lips into the same, albeit mocking, pout. "do you want a nickname, too?"
yuma exhaled, deep and controlled, blinking back his frustration, "i dont give a shit about that, and you know it."
"then i really dont see what the problem is," you crossed your arms over your chest, the chill of the night fading into a growing warmth under your coat. you muttered, sighing, "i was just doing what you asked."
"that is not what i asked," yuma scoffed, almost laughing. he shook his head, twisting the key as the car rumbled to life beneath you. the radio played faintly, hi-hats ringing and melodies blurring. 70s top 100, again.
"well, i dont know how else you want me to pretend this isnt happening," you admitted, and it was true. the two of you had complicated things, maybe forever, with this secret you'd sworn to keep. it was a battle you couldnt win. you could either openly flirt with other people to keep the suspicion off the two of you, sending yuma into a jealous spiral. or you could openly reject every advance, making it obvious to everyone who might have an inkling about your involvement with yuma.
there was no ethical way to lie to everyone closest to you.
"that was pretending?" yuma asked, angling his head toward you but not taking his eyes off the road. the streetlights filtered into the car in blinding flashes, illuminating his tense jaw, the pull of his lips as his teeth worked at the inside of his cheek. "five more minutes and you'd have been sucking face."
"you flirt with people all the time, but i cant? you can fuck and kiss anybody you'd like, but i can't even s-"
"i dont give a fuck who you sleep with. i dont give a fuck who you flirt with," he interrupted you, casting the sharpest look directly into your eyes, "as long as its not him."
you let the silence hang between you. you knew it was cruel to even entertain nicholas' feelings for you. but until he confessed to you, it was all fun and games. at least, you could play it off that way. flirting with nicholas was fun because he was fun. he had always been easygoing, and you'd never viewed him as more than a friend. this made it incredibly easy for you to keep your relationship with him platonic. the most romantic thing you and nicholas had done was hold hands while crossing the street, trying not to get separated on a trip you all went on into the city. he'd fed you once, too, but friends do that. friends dont do whatever you and yuma had going on.
and its not like you planned any of it. too many drinks blurred the lines you probably shouldnt have crossed, but yuma never regretted a single moment with you. not before, not after. and you'd sensed his honesty just as clearly as you sensed his jealousy.
even so, you couldnt believe he was so worked up over this, over a prediction of what could have happened. not to mention, yuma didnt even address his absence. there was no "sorry i disappeared," just a proprietorial grip on your waist and a stern gaze that screamed we fuck every thursday evening!
"pull over," you said, voice hoarse from yelling over the music at the party, weak from your silence in the car ride.
yuma furrowed his brows, "we're almost at yours. like ten more minutes and we'll be at yours-"
"yuma," you said, slower, "pull over."
the parking lot was mainly empty, illuminated by a half-lit, flashing convenience store sign, two faded streetlamps, and yuma's headlights before he turned them completely off. beneath you, the car went still, and the silence was back. he rubbed at his eyes with his fingertips, dragging them down his face with a sigh. you slid out of your coat, throwing it into the backseat. it was suddenly so hot- you could basically swim through the air.
"can you look at me?" you asked, and yuma complied, meeting your gaze with puffy, freshly reddened eyes. he looked tired, over it, like the night had been three times its expected length. and, surely, you didnt make it any better by saying, "if i wanted to fuck nico, i would have done it already."
yuma blinked at you, once slowly and then rapidly as if he were coming out of a trance. he breathed a laugh, putting his hands firmly on the wheel and dropping his head. he peered into his lap, shoulders gently shaking with his controlled laughter, "i am so glad i pulled over so you could tell me that. fucking great news."
he reached for the key again, ready to start the car and run away from the conversation, hoping his mood would just blow over naturally and things would resume as normal tomorrow. but you grabbed his wrist before he could. his pulse throbbed anxiously beneath the pads of your fingers, increasing as you swiped your thumb over the soft expanse of skin on his wrist. the soft expanse of skin that was, frankly, everywhere on him. his neck, his cheek, his chest. he was so soft to act so hard, impenetrable, unmoving.
"you're being an asshole," you whispered, pulling his hand to your lips. yuma followed your every move, melting into the leather seat as he felt the warmth of your mouth against his knuckles. you peppered kisses from the back of his hand, up his fingers, twisting his wrist in your grasp to plant one on his palm that was particularly effective. you dragged your tongue from the center of his open hand, swiping it up the length of his index finger.
"im sorry," he breathed, finger twitching against your mouth as he shifted uncomfortably in the seat, "y-you know how i get."
"mhm," you pressed your lips into a fine line, fiddling with his fingers, "you dont trust me." you pressed your hands together, aligning the edges of your pinkies, your thumbs, and studying the differences. his were only slightly wider than yours, with fingers that barely outmatched you in length. you wove them together, "you get paranoid."
"hey, i trust you," yuma squeezed your hand, "it's just a lot for me, you know. i feel like im always two people at once. like one minute im your friend and were cool and the next..."
"the next... what," you pulled your legs up under you, turning your body to face him completely. his fingers flexed around yours, tapping anxiously on the back of your hand. you couldnt help but encourage him, longing to hear whatever has been going through his head for the last four months, "you can say it."
"i dont know. i feel crazy," yuma's eyes scanned your face for any hint of judgement, but they ultimately found nothing but your kind stare, lips tilted into an expectant smile. the same one you always had when he was worried about work or debating what he was going to order for dinner. the same one that had never made him feel guilty or invalidated, so yuma took a deep breath. "one minute im your friend and the next i feel like im your boyfriend. and i know im not and its stupid, but i get so... protective? or possessive? and when i see you with nicholas, i get paranoid because i trust you- i trust you to make whatever decision you feel is best. and it might be him."
his hand trembled in yours as he spoke, and you cradled it closer to your chest. you knew he was possessive, just as a general quality, but you didn't realize how deep it ran, how intertwined your relationship had become with his personality. he was envious of something he currently had, so used to losing that he couldnt even fathom the possibility of keeping it, of keeping you. instinctively, you reached out your other hand and traced your fingers around the shell of his ear, reddened from the sudden vulnerability.
"it might be," you muttered as you trailed your fingers from his earlobe, walking them down the length of his pulse and cupping the side of his neck. the blush of his confession made his skin deliciously warm against you. his eyes were no longer red but glassed over, an aching sheen reflecting in the flashing light of the storefront. as your hands wandered, yuma's chest lost its controlled rhythm, his breathing growing more ragged as you pulled your thumb over his bottom lip. you dragged it down, collecting some of the wetness from the inside of his mouth and smearing it over his lips, down the corners, watching as they grew red from the friction.
the sign flashed once, then twice, basking you in short bursts of flourescence, and suddenly neither of you could take it anymore. you pulled him closer, sitting up on your knees and hovering over the center console to meet his mouth in a feverish kiss. every kiss with yuma was heat inducing, a coiling current between your lips softened only by the stroke of his tongue against yours. you dropped his hand, grasping for his shirt, his shoulders, anywhere you could anchor yourself to him.
he let his tongue still against you for a beat too long, giving you the opportunity to close your lips around it, sucking his tongue deeper into you. yuma hummed, eyes flickering open in surprise but almost instantly succumbing to bliss, and he began to move his tongue again, in and out of your hollowed lips. the drool accumulated quickly, dribbling down his chin, connecting your mouths together in an obscene web.
"fuck, youre killing me," yuma breathed, pulling back from you just enough to rest his forehead against yours. he rolled his hips absentmindedly, searching for friction anywhere as he brought his thumb to your mouth, wiping away his frothy, bubbling spit pooling at your lips. "and just by the way, i trust whatever decision you make. and i'm sorry i'm a dick."
“thats good to know,” you smile, lip grazing the pad of his thumb with the movement. you slid your hands from his jaw down his neck, until your pinky finger dipped under the collar of his shirt. yuma's body trembled, a chill unfolding down his spine at the intrusion. "it's a big decision, hm?" you dragged your hands down his clothed torso, keeping your eyes locked on his even though his eyelids had obstructed his own view of you. he nodded, rocking his forehead against yours. you continued, "i'm gonna think hard about it, and for a long time." the drag of your fingertips left a simmering path down yuma's stomach, bypassing the growing tent in his pants as you rested your palm on his thigh. he bit back a whine, exasperated by your endless teasing.
more than getting you off, yuma loved pissing you off. it made it all the more fun for him, getting you fired up and vengeful. this was different, though. he wasn't actively trying to make you mad. it just came naturally to him. but this side of you, reassuring but simultaneously deflecting his insecurity back onto him, was not natural at all for you; he didnt know if you were going to kiss him or kill him.
"take as long as you need," yuma panted, squirming in place as you etched circles in the bulk of his thigh, urging your hand closer to where he wanted you, "just please fucking touch me first."
yuma leaned forward, then, capturing your lips in another kiss, as if to satiate the lack of you elsewhere. he sighed into you, melting down to a softness you'd never really felt from him before. things changed so quickly, yet it felt so slow. he brushed your hair back from your face, bucking his hips as you trailed your hand over his growing bulge.
he inhaled through his teeth as he broke the kiss, leaving your face empty and cold as he retracted his hands to unbuckle his belt. he shifted his pants just enough to let his cock spring free, standing eagerly against his abdomen. and when you finally wrapped your hand around him, a needy and lilted sob slipped from yuma's mouth.
he was always beautiful- you took note of that. he had an illusory type of allure that shifted between sharp, striking angles and soft, sloped radiance. sometimes both at the same time, when his moans would grow in pitch, helpless whines with his lip between his teeth, but his eyes never left yours, watching you with a fixed sort of craving. one might have called it a hunger. he looked like that, now, as your hand dragged up and down the length of him, smearing your thumb over the flushed, pink tip with every upstroke just to hear him gasp.
"so fucking needy," you muttered, increasing your pace. his chest swelled and caved with ragged, uneven breaths, his head thrown back against the headrest as he moved his hips to match your hand, "i just wanted to talk, but all you can think about is my hand on your cock?"
"your mouth," yuma choked out, threading his fingers through your hair, "y-your mouth on my cock- fuck."
it took very little convincing for you to suck him off, loving the weight of him on your tongue, the push of him at the back of your throat. you leaned over him, swirling your tongue around his head before lowering all the way down to the base, taking the full length of him in one perfect, slow and painful motion.
"holy shit, you're perfect," yuma breathed, tightening his hand in your hair but not pushing, just grasping anywhere to keep his brain from liquifying, "fuck, so hot and wet."
you flattened your tongue on the underside of his cock, dragging it up and down, humming as the drool leaked from your mouth and onto his pants. yuma reached over, pulling the dress he specifically requested up until it was bunched up at your waist and grabbing a handful of your ass.
you moaned around him, thighs burning from squeezing them together. yuma dipped his fingers beneath the hem of your underwear, yanking them back with one quick, sinister snap that had the material pulled taut against your aching clit. and while yuma wasnt expecting the force to make you lose your balance, to make you drop forward around his cock, gagging and whimpering around him, neither of you could deny the way he twitched in your mouth or the strained groan that fell from his lips.
"keep sucking me like that, pretty," yuma whined, hips involuntarily grinding up into you, chasing his building release. your eyes stung, tears threatening to spill from the corners but it felt so good, his hand coming down on your ass in quick swats. "im so close, gonna come in your mouth, yeah? will you let me?"
and you did, swallowing around him as he pumped hot ropes down your throat, almost too much. he snapped his hips up into you, digging his fingertips into the car door as he rode out his high, mumbling incoherent iterations of, "want you all to myself" and "all mine" and "so fucking good."
you kept him in your mouth, though, swiping your tongue over his sensitive tip and feeling his body jolt under you. one slow drag of your tongue along him, one gentle squeeze, and he was panting, squirming. you lifted your head, spit connecting your lips to his tip, but continued relentlessly stroking him with your fist, overstimulating him into hell.
you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, letting him taste himself on you, swallowing his pathetic, desperate moans. "youre not the only one who gets to be greedy, baby," you mumbled against his skin, trailing your kisses down his jaw, his neck, biting down on the slope of his shoulder, "give me one more."
he mewled, squeezing his eyes shut as you worked him in languid strokes. his body trembled. yuma gripped your wrist, like he wanted to hold you back. but instead he squeezed your fingers tighter around him, holding your hand steady as he thrusted his hips up into your palm, delirious on his own pleasure.
"gonna-hah- come for you," yuma's thrusts grew sloppy, stuttering. and then he came again, silently, as short spurts of hot cum gushed over onto the back of your hand, sticky and warm. he was spent, heaving wordlessly. his face was flushed red, hair plastered to his forehead, and his skin only grew redder as you swiped your tongue over the pools of his release, licking your hand clean.
the store's sign outside flickered three times, and yuma knew that you had ruined him, probably forever. he knew he didnt want to keep you secret anymore, knew that he wanted everyone to see that you were his. that you chose him. but he knew he couldnt; he couldnt kiss you goodbye in the hall before your lectures. he couldnt drop you lunch at work with cute notes on napkins. he couldnt tell you he that he might be in love with you.
so, instead, he pulled your dress back down over your ass, kissed you gently, holding your chin like a lover or as close as he could be to one, and gasped in the middle of it, breaking away with feigned shock.
"damn, i know what would have made that ten times hotter," yuma slapped his open palm to his face, smiling knowingly.
and then he turned the key in the ignition. the car buzzed to life, engine humming, overhead lights clicking on, and the steady sound of music seeped through the thick air-
synopsis | your best friend tries to hide how hard he is in the hot tub with you, but you know him too well.
details | best friend!euijoo x female reader, non idol au, vacation buddies, 18+ SMUT MINORS DNI, kind of angst, teasing, playful banter, kind of exhibition, wet humping (uh dry humping in the water idk yall), hot tub sex btw, marking, hand job, cockwarming, penetration (unprotected but please wrap it up), creampie, cursing, mentions of drinking, lowercase intended, not proofread im never doing that
wc | 5.7k
from the author | this took literally forever to write but i hope you guys enjoy !! i had a lot of fun writing the non-smutty parts
you might have pushed him too far this time.
euijoo is usually a professional at brushing off the jokes you make about his arguably less than impressive sex life. and by that, youre not even sure it exists at all. you've been friends for years, but you have never heard him brag about an "eventful" night, even when you've done more than your fair share of explicit storytimes. he's always a listening ear, no matter how red hearing your encounters makes the top of his.
when you'd went on vacation together in the past, the two of you have to spend a week apart afterward just to preserve the friendship you've crafted. you're just so annoying. but he loves it, way more than he'd care to admit. you once spent a week on a woodland retreat, traveling sun up to sun down with a group of very dedicated hikers. up hill. down hill. even sideways on the hill, like goats.
"can you please shut the hell up about bigfoot?" euijoo had yelled over his shoulder on the last day of the trip. you had to shamefully lower your hand and relax your shocked face, having just claimed your ninth bigfoot sighting of the week. the entire group turned to look at you, and euijoo didnt speak the rest of the hike. he made you food over your campfire, though, while you were cramming a quick nap before the final evening hike. your calves hurt more than your relationship, thankfully.
when you went anywhere, you found a bit to commit to for the duration of the trip and waited to see how long it would take euijoo to break. the first day of a trip was always the most fun, the two of you in a new place. you love his smile, and he was always painfully enthusiastic within 24 hours of the plane landing or the hotel door clicking closed. he would drag you to all the destinations you'd marked on the map with his digital camera slipped into his pocket. around the fourth day, however, he was drained. and after the fifth, he began to huff, cast irritated glances your way, and, occasionally, ask if you knew how to be quiet. from the sixth day on, you were playing with fire.
this time, you and euijoo had decided on a beach holiday. you've never been anywhere actually relaxing together, usually opting for near death or financially detrimental experiences. you thought it might be fun to lay around on a towel reading shitty romance, build sand castles, get sun poisoning- the works. so, you booked a room at a beachfront resort, adults only and all inclusive with a full breakfast bar. and you decided what bit you'd be fully committing to, even before you arrived at the hotel:
you were gonna get euijoo laid.
it would be just like love island, you thought. or assumed, since you've never actually seen it. but your best friend, who is by and large considered handsome, would be surrounded by gorgeous adult women in tiny bikinis, gleaming under stark sunlight all day long, lingering by the bar desperate for a drink that euijoo could definitely order for them. you'd even tell him what drinks girls like, in a grossly stereotyping sense.
you considered it a favor. he had a girlfriend once, when the two of you first met. you'd had some classes with her at your university but met euijoo by completely unrelated circumstance. you had taken his drink at a local cafe by accident, despite his name being written on the side of the cup in thick black marker.
"wait, your name is euijoo?" you had stared at him with wide eyes. he could only nod, face blank, as you lied to him through your teeth, "my name is euijoo, too. small world, huh?"
euijoo was hooked on you ever since, spending so much time with you at arcades and poetry readings and movie nights that his girlfriend called it quits. you became close incredibly fast. it was so easy to forget about time with him, though. the years went by so quickly, only slowing down the one week a year you isolated yourselves together and you pushed him to emotional limits he didnt even know he had.
the resort was fancy but not flashy, which was good since neither of you really looked like you belonged there. euijoo had a stupid floppy hat on, and you had forgotten to take off your sunglasses inside, the giant lenses eclipsing your entire face. the hotel receptionist was visibly reluctant to hand over your room key as if the two of you were obviously responsible adults capable of maintaining order in her establishment. when she finally handed it over to euijoo, he flashed her a genuine smile that moved his cheeks and all.
"she was cute," you said as euijoo yanked his suitcase over the elevator floor gap. you pressed your floor number, feeling his confused stare chiseling into the side of your face. she was cute, round hazel eyes and freckled cheeks. she had a friendly face, just like him.
euijoo shifted on his feet, "do you, uh, want her number? i can go back and get it for you."
he moved to press the lobby button, and you swatted his hand away. as he hissed, shaking his barely burning wrist, you insisted, "no, dumbass, for you. shes cute for you."
"for me?" his eyebrows turned up in the middle, furrowing like you'd just told him he won a raffle he never entered. his lips parted slightly, one long finger pointed into his chest.
and he kept this act up for days, playing dumb every time you tried to get him to ask someone out. "juju, she's hot," was met with, "well, the sun is out." every "you should offer her a drink" warranted an "alcohol speeds up dehydration." he was such a fucking gentleman. it made you sick.
at one point, you purposefully sat in a lounge chair on the very end of the row at the hotel pool, leaving euijoo to sit in the one between you and a very, very attractive lady. even you considered testing the waters if he ended up tanking his chances.
"hi, hi. sorry to bother you," you had sat up after twenty minutes of brainstorming and sunbathing, leaning over euijoo to get into the woman's hearing range. he audibly gulped, suddenly aware of what angle you were playing. he caught on pretty quickly. you lifted a hand just as she turned to face you and stuck it right in euijoo's hair, ruffling it, "my friend here thinks youre very beautiful. isnt that right, euijoo?"
"hm, what?" he sat up quickly from his relaxed pose on the lounger, swiping your hand from his head and shooting you a sideways glance. the woman peered at him from behind her sunglasses, watching as he searched for a response to your question, his mouth opening and closing, opening and closing until he landed on, "oh, yes! i said your hair was beautiful. its, uh, very... healthy. yeah, great hair."
he then gave her the saddest thumbs up you've ever seen, crooked and weary, and stood up from his seat, pattering away on the wet concrete. the woman watched him the whole way back to the hotel entrance, combing an absent hand through her loose, healthy curls. you sighed, "i guess i misheard him. you are beautiful, though."
"what exactly are you trying to do?" euijoo was sitting, slouched over on the edge of his bed when you returned a couple hours later. he had changed from his swim shorts and tank top into something more casual, comfy. you only noticed because you'd bought him that tshirt for his birthday last year.
"nice shirt," you laughed as you hopped up onto the edge of your own mattress parallel to him, letting your legs dangle in the space between you. he lifted his gaze from the floor to your face, dark brown eyes scanning for something you werent quite aware of. euijoo didnt smile, and you felt yourself grow sharp under his watch, "whats up with you? why are you being weird?"
"im being weird?" he breathed a laugh this time, tilting his head at you in a way that had his tousled hair swiping over his eyes. he flicked it away, absentmindedly, "interesting, since all youve done this week is try to hook me up with strangers. is that not weird to you?"
you were speechless, opening your mouth only for nothing to come out. it was day four, but you'd never pushed him this far. and it was entirely unintentional. you knew he hated the bigfoot jokes. you knew he hated when you made him do the same pose at every tourist attraction. you knew he hated your collection of tacky shot glasses you just had to buy at every souvenir shop. but this- he had never acknowledged your behavior in this way.
"is it weird for me to want my best friend to have a little fun?" you asked, gauging his reaction, which- spoiler- was not positive.
"im trying to have fun," he stressed, crossing his arms and sliding off the bed to stand, "with you. on our vacation. but you keep trying to pawn me off!"
"euijoo, i just swear to god youve not had sex with anybody in like five years. cant you, like, die from that? did i make that up?" you rubbed your eyes in thought. when you opened them, everything was blurred but the annoyance on euijoos face. like youd crossed a boundary you didnt know hed set. he scoffed, shaking his head. you added, "i thought i was helping!"
there was a beat of silence, thick and palpable.
"i just wanted to be with you," he sighed, sitting on the bed again but on the opposite side, his back facing you. you saw him take a deep breath before laying down, stretching out over the length of the bed. he mumbled, "just forget it."
you swallowed the lump in your throat and stretched out, too, on your own bed. you curled into your side, watching his chest rise and fall. his eyes fluttered closed, but you knew he wasnt sleeping. you let the silence dissipate, the air conditioning unit in the corner rumbling as the crisp air blows through the curtains.
"uh," you cleared your throat after what felt like hours of silence but you knew was closer to twenty minutes, "we have that, um, scuba lesson in a bit... that we did pay for. just by the way."
the scuba lesson seemed like a great way to get your "experience" fill for this trip, and euijoo had always talked about wanting to explore the reef or swim with dolphins. the passes werent that expensive on their own, but you'd pre-rented the gear.
euijoo didnt turn his head to look at you and, instead, just spoke to the ceiling like he didnt care if you heard it or not. "go without me," he said, "you'll just try to set me up with the instructor, anyway."
you were able to refund the rental fee for the gear, but you wished you'd have just refunded the whole lesson. floating around in spandex was a lot less fun alone, you'd realized. the whole lesson was weirdly intimate without euijoo there, just you and the instructor, who wasnt even hot. you wondered whether to tell euijoo that detail or just leave it alone. you wondered whether to tell him anything at all.
he didnt give you much of a choice, though. when you got back, he was no longer on his bed. or in the room. it was like he was never there save for the open suitcase kicked under a table, his comfy clothes from earlier strung haphazardly over the edge of the case.
you were thankful that you had upgraded your room when you booked, specifically for the two beds and larger bathroom. too many times had the two of you crammed into one bed or taken a piss while the other was brushing their teeth. the other benefit of the upgraded room: private access to a courtyard shared among the four private suites in your wing, which included a small pool, lawn games like giant chess, a self-serve bar, and a hot tub.
now, you're looking through the slatted blinds on your room's patio door, scouring the dimly lit courtyard for any sign of him. of course, the sun has set since you returned from your suddenly personal scuba lesson. the dew cast a fog on the glass panes, additional clouds growing and dissolving from your breath as you press your forehead to the door. in the corner of the yard, you see a faint glow, pulsating in the dimming twilight.
when you approach the hot tub, euijoo looks tranquil, almost blissful. his head is tipped back, eyes sewn shut as the water laps at his bare torso. the waves from the jets cast swirling reflections on his skin, everywhere. you're almost close enough to step into the water when you hesitate, stopping, considering leaving him alone and just going to bed. his eyes open, but hes not shocked to see you. he doesnt even jump, just pulls his lips into a small smile.
"come on in," euijoo nods to the space across from him, watching your every move. despite his kindness, you cant help but feel like he's analyzing you, waiting for you to say something stupid again. "how was diving?"
"humiliating," you sigh as you sink into the water. euijoos head is tipped down, chin tucked and watching you from under heavy lids. you can't deny how cold the water feels on your skin, unfamiliar warmth dancing up your arms, your chest. your neck. "i mean, i was a pro, as you can imagine. but the whole thing was... lonely."
euijoo hums to suppress a laugh. he does this often, not wanting to encourage your antics, but you can always see the little glint of humor in his eyes. usually, the smile would break loose. he'd let a laugh loose and pretend it never happened. but now, hes bittersweet, regretful. he takes a deep breath.
"i should've went with you," he says, stopping to chew at the inside of his cheek, "i was being a dick."
"yeah," you deadpan, and he looks at you with sorrowful eyes before you kick your leg up out of the water, splashing him. his hands come up defensively to shield his face, water running down his forearms. he laughs, flipping his hand over the surface to send a spray of water toward you, instead. you continue, "but so was i. i shouldn't have assumed you were interested in sex."
euijoo smiles, softly, at your attempt at an apology. that might be the best he's gonna get, and he can't stay mad at you for long. he opens up his arms, nodding his head to the side, "come here."
and as you scoot along the edge of the hot tub, you can see just how flushed his face is from the heat. droplets of water cascade down his cheek, dripping from his jaw. his shoulders glisten with a sheen of sweat, but his skin is cold when you rest your cheek on it. euijoo wraps his arm around the side of your neck, pulling you close. it should be disgustingly sticky, but it isnt. it's nice.
it's too nice, too comfortable. you'd even call it perfect, the fit of his arm over your shoulder, his skin against yours. euijoo's chest rises and falls in your periphery, the swelling of his lungs matching the ever choppy bubbling of the water. he grows rigid against you, shifting in his seat on the hot tub's bench.
suddenly, euijoo pulls his arm from around you. he folds his arms firmly over his chest, sighing deeply before clearing his throat. you retreat from your position, uncurling from his side and turning in your seat to face him. your brows furrow, "whats up with you all the sudden?"
euijoo's eyes scan everywhere but your face, finding something interesting on the side of the hotel wall, maybe a curtain blowing in a window seven floors above. he sputters out a tragedy of an excuse, "you're- its the, um, the..." he shrugs, performatively wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, "hot tub. its... so hot."
"oh, are you okay? do you need some water?" you reach out to feel his forehead, too, but he swats your hand away, shifting his body away from you.
"no!" his eyes widen, "i mean, yes, im okay. no on the water. just-"
"well, do you want to get out? we can watch a movie or something?"
"no," slower, after a visible gulp, euijoo says, "i cant."
you can barely hear him over the turbulent waves. the water around you gurgles over itself, sloshing out of the jets on your back and on the floor. columns of water billow up, wafting the burning scent of chlorine into the air. he cant? why wouldn't he be able to watch a movie with you? does he suddenly hate movies?
then, it clicks.
you reach behind his head, and, with a quick tap of a button on the tub's control panel, disable the jets altogether. the water goes still, leftover bubbles disappearing with a soft fizz. it's unnaturally quiet without the roar of the water pump or the disrupting slosh of waves on the plastic siding. theres nothing but the sound of euijoo's heart beating out of his chest and the choked gasp that leaves his mouth once he realizes what youve done.
"no fucking way," you mutter, half astonished and half teetering on a feeling you've been too scared to acknowledge for a long time, "byun euijoo, are you seriously hard right now?"
he rears his arm back and presses every button on the tub's control panel in search of the magic switch to turn the jets on and, hopefully, make everything stop. as soon as he presses it, you press it again. he presses it. you press it. back and forth and back and forth until he buries his face in his hand and groans, "please, just go inside. forget everything. forget about me. let me die here."
"don't be embarrassed, juju," you laugh, gently grabbing his wrists and pulling his hands away from his flushed face. as you lower them to the water, his eyes never leave the place where your fingers wrap around his. his expression is a mix of confusion and humiliation, chased by a rush of curiosity at your tender reaction. "i could go away. i could just go to bed."
youre sure he can see the ideas bounding in your head, bouncing from one side of your skull to the other and skipping all the zones in your brain that would tell you that this is a bad idea. its situations like these that should exist only as hypotheticals, like a fever dream just as its about to break. or a one-time daydream scenario after a hangout where he looked a little too good. maybe he wore that sweater you liked, let his jeans hang a little too low on his hips. but you had gotten very good at separating your feelings from the reality that euijoo is your best friend and could never be anything more. at least, he never showed it. not until now, having skipped all the casual flirting or cheesy pickup lines and went straight to business. straight to driving you crazy all week with his perfect, sunkissed skin and slender fingers massaging sunscreen along your spine, working lower and lower, dipping under your swimsuit bottoms just in case.
"or," you guide his wrist until his hand is cupping the side of your neck, his damp fingers instinctively threading into your hair behind your ear. you whisper, "or, i could stay."
his touch is gentle, like hes afraid he'll do something he'll regret. you're scared, too, but you inhale, chlorine rushing to your head. when you exhale, you bring your own palm and place it over his, encouraging him to please touch you. you continue, "you know, i think i understand why you didnt care about the receptionist, or that woman at the pool, or at the bar."
euijoo hums, finally heeding your silent plea and sinking his fingers deeper into your hair. he tilts your head gently as you speak, following the movement with his own head, mirroring you. his lips part, only slightly and only once youre done speaking. "you do?"
"mhm," you let him puppeteer you, letting the weight of your head fall into his firm grasp as he cranes your neck backward, exposing the front of your throat, and then back to the side, swiping his thumb under your jaw, "but i wanna hear you say it. wanna know for sure."
euijoo whines, softly, and you feel it go right to your stomach, heat pooling in your veins. you clench your thighs together, absentmindedly, as he swallows the rest of whatever sounds were threatening to spill from his mouth. you feel his hand shaking against your neck, and you reach up again to hold him, steady him. you move your other hand under the water in search of his free hand, pulling it closer to rest on your thigh. euijoo squeezes your leg, just once, and releases a shaky breath, "they're not you."
euijoo sucks a sharp breath in through his teeth as you lean further into his hold and press your lips to the soft skin on the inside of his wrist. you feel on fire as you dart your tongue out, running it along the ridges of his veins. he tastes like chemicals and sweat but somehow sweet, like burning citrus.
"fuck, they're not you," he whispers to himself, fingers dragging, tentatively, up your thigh, "would you... would you like it if i kissed you?"
you pull your lips away from his hand just to laugh, quietly. you feel bad for the reaction, but he's just so desperate, nervous. your body moves before your mouth can, suddenly draping your legs over either side of his hips, his fingertips still digging into the flesh of your thigh. you keep yourself planted in the middle of his lap, careful to distance your core from where he obviously wants you.
you hover your lips over his, and its clear to you that euijoo is not breathing. his eyes are blown wide with an emotion you cant decipher as excitement or disbelief, and his chest is frozen in a perpetual inhale. as you speak, your bottom lip grazes his, "there's really only one way to find out, hm?"
the first kiss is curious, hesitant, as euijoo closes the short gap between you. his lips are plush, just as you expected and more. he brings his other hand from your thigh to the other side of your face, cupping it softly, and sighs into you. the trickle of water from his fingers that trails down your neck sends a chill through your body that completely contradicts the heat you feel from the water, from him. as he pulls away, you tug his bottom lip between your teeth, tethering the two of you together for just a second longer. euijoo whimpers, and you drink it all up as you release him from your teeth. you cant tell if his face is flush from the heat or embarrassment, growing shy under you in every aspect, physically and under your intense gaze that scans every crease and corner of his face. he smiles as you land on his eyes. you comb your hand through his hair, smoothing it away from his face the way you like it.
the second kiss is more of everything, swallowing his smile and his sounds. your mouths work purposefully against each other, as if to memorize the exact way his lips fit into you. its a deliberate exploration, teeth nipping, tongues melding and soothing. all while his hands slide, slowly, from your face down your body. euijoo's fingers ghost under your ribs, squeezing your hips in a silent encouragement. your fingers snake around his neck, tugging at the hairs at the nape of his neck.
"you're driving me fucking crazy," euijoo mumbles against your lips, digging his fingernails into the skin of your hips, "all ive ever wanted."
his confession strikes you, humming against him in acknowledgement. you dont know if you can ever stop kissing him, which, coincidentally, is the same reason you had avoided trying before. your friend group had played their fair share of party games, which almost always ended with then drunkenly pushing you and euijoo toward each other while shouting, "kiss! kiss! kiss!" but you'd laughed it off thinking euijoo would never want risk your friendship for something as childish as spin the bottle.
if you had known you'd be in his lap in a public hot tub sucking on his tongue, maybe you'd have tried it a bit sooner.
you involuntarily rock your hips forward, body in search of some friction, and when you brush against the bulge in his swim shorts, euijoo groans into your mouth, body jerking in surprise. you hum against his lips, gauging him. euijoo pulls you forward again, hands snaking from your hips around to your ass. you always admired his delicate hands, but now youre wondering just how rough he could be with them as you roll your hips one more time against him.
"fuck," you rest your forehead against his as his straining cock nudges your clothed clit, the muted friction building, "have you had a big dick this whole time and didnt tell me?"
"have you- shit- ever been s-serious a day in your life?" euijoo chokes out, balancing the sweetest smile and the most intense crease in his brow. you're only teasing him, but it's not much of a joke. earlier, the bubbles and the dim lighting of the courtyard and the optical illusion that is water only barely revealed his predicament to you. you couldn't really see it. but, now, you can feel it. long and slender and trapped.
"i wanna touch you," you confess, flicking your gaze from his face to the space where the two of you meet, watching his pupils blow, watching his hips jerk in anticipation, "would you like that, juju?"
if he wasnt completely at your mercy, a puddle beneath you, he would have definitely flipped you off for turning his own question against him. instead, euijoo just nods, hastily. like you'll change your mind about him. he nods, eagerly. like he's been waiting to let you have him.
you hook your fingers into the elastic waistband of his shorts, pulling them down just enough for his cock to bob free under the water. euijoo moans under his breath at the lack of restraint, but he yelps as you wrap your fingers around the base of it, squeezing gently, experimentally. euijoo screws his eyes shut, throwing his head back as you drag your hand all the way up his throbbing shaft, babbling curses and your name like you're killing him. he opens his eyes only to look around, checking the windows and doors of the other suites near you.
"scared of getting caught?" you twist your hand, sinking it back down along his velvet, honey veined skin before moving to press directly on the angry, pink head. euijoo whines, bucking up into your hand and biting the back of his hand to muffle his cries. you smooth over the tip with your thumb, "you dont want anyone to see how good you're being for me? or hear how pretty you sound, juju?"
you pull his hand away from his mouth with your free hand, "let them hear. tell them how good it feels, baby."
you increase your pace. euijoos eyes focus on the rippling water where your arm works him under the surface, your grip firm and natural like your hand was designed for him, like you were. his jaw is slack with pleasure, shivers sliding over his body every time you slow your movements, rocking your hips on his leg in a similar rhythm. he groans, "feels so good. s-so fucking good."
youd be lying if said you weren't the most turned on you've ever been in your life. every movement of your wrist disturbs the water, as well as the sloshing of the water between your torsos as you grind yourself onto his thigh. youre chasing your own high, although priority number one is to see what sounds euijoo makes when he comes. in your wettest dreams, he was a heavy breather, but you realize now that your mind could not have conjured his sweet mixture of sinful mewls, husky groans, and breathy moans. and thats only what he has let you hear, still holding himself back for the sake of privacy. you'd hate to be seen, to have an outsider ruin this perfect moment. at the same time, however, the thrill of being caught tempts you to draw this out as long as possible.
"im gonna come," euijoo pants under you as you attach your lips to the column of his exposed throat, savoring the chlorinated citrus flavor of his skin, "fuck- i dont wanna come in the water. thats so gross."
you worked your lips up to his ear, slowing your wrist and nipping at his earlobe with your teeth. you whisper, "then come inside me, euijoo."
when you pull back, he's scanning your face for a semblance of humor, as if it were a joke. but you've never been more serious. this is the first time, probably ever, that you've been completely serious on a trip with him. you nod, just to reassure him as you continue ferociously milking his cock, pumping him.
"god, okay, okay," he gives in, breathless. his hair has fallen back into his face, obscuring your sight of his full pupils and glassy eyes, "i'd love to come inside of you. cant believe im even saying that- fuck."
you watch him, even more carefully now. he's beautiful in a way you've noticed before but struggled to put into words. you're sure he has ruined you for everyone else as you study the pulsing vein in his neck and the bobbing lump in his throat. just as his whines get shorter, breathing ragged and hoarse, you inch your throbbing core closer to his cock. you move your swimsuit bottoms out of the way and nudge your entrace with his tip. euijoo releases his hold on your hips so as to not slam you down and fuck you senseless, letting you control the moment, go at your pace. unfortunately for him. instead, he connects your lips in a tender kiss, licking into your mouth and stifling your moans.
the stretch is welcome, eagerly anticipated. but the water perpetuates a burning friction as you suck him in. you sigh into him as you feel the tip of him drag all along your walls. you clench, adjusting to his length as you steady yourself on his shoulders.
"ah-" euijoo gasps into your mouth, breaking free from the kiss and burying his face in your neck. he rests his forehead on your shoulder as his body tenses, snaking his arms around your waist, "coming. fuck, i-im-"
the warmth spreads low inside of you as he releases, burning white ropes plugged deep by his twitching, spent cock. euijoo comes with a silent, choked groan, followed by a sweet series of high-pitched, exasperated whimpers. you coax every sound you can from him, clenching around him, rolling your hips, and dragging your nails down his back. you allow him to just exist for a moment, connected to you in every way. his arms are still wrapped tightly around your waist, hands splayed over the expanse of your back. his heavy breathing fans over your chest, hot and slowing. his dick is still buried inside of you, now soft.
"euijoo," you say, stroking the back of his hair, "can you look at me, please?"
"not yet," he mumbles into your skin, "i'm thinking."
"thinking?" you roll the word around in your mouth a few times, walking your fingers up and down his spine, "did i fuck some sense into you?"
euijoo laughs, this time aloud. his shoulders rack under your touch. you cant help but smile as he sits up, finally, and leans back against the side of the hot tub, "wow. im literally still inside of you and you've managed to insult me. thats gotta be a new record."
youre going to see this every time you close your eyes: euijoo, fucked out and glowing, with faint bruises and pink marks up the column of his throat. you dont even care that youre staring. evidently, you didn't offend him too much, since you feel his cock begin to grow hard inside of you again. he likes it, you realize.
euijoo draws you closer, connecting your lips for one final and chaste kiss. his plump, swollen lips turn up in a smile against you. but when you pull away, he looks perplexed, like he's just remembered something. "really quick, then we can go in."
"okay," you shift uncomfortably on his lap, anxiously awaiting what could be literally anything. it's difficult to tell with euijoo. this could be anything from a sex critique to an addition to tomorrow's vacation initerary, "im all ears."
"earlier," euijoo starts, innocently scanning your face, "you said that you were sorry for playing matchmaker because you didnt know i 'wasnt interested in sex.' and, well, i just-"
"nope," you stand up from your position on his lap, quickly adjusting your bottoms to prevent any of his cum to drip into the water. you resist the urge to whine at the loss of fullness, suddenly empty as you wade out of the tub. however, you are not about to let him get the last a-ha moment, especially when youre full of his cum and still waiting on your own orgasm, "you know exactly what i meant by that."
euijoo cranes his head to follow you as you retreat back to the room, projecting his voice a little too loud, "i am interested in sex, just by the way."
Synopsis: Who better to comfort you after your heart break over an unrequited love that your best friend, Euijoo? And who better to take your virginity as well?
Pairing: best friend Euijoo x fem!reader
Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v, unprotected sex (not for you), oral (f receiving), fingering, virginity loss (f), corruption kink, dom!euijoo, sub!reader, big dih euijoo my beloved, SIZE KINK, a bit of dumbification?, pervert euijoo, panty sniffing yay, masturbation (m), reader is ultra feminine and lowkey dumb asf i would be too for euijoo, euijoo lowkey toxic af but we love him, Nicholas slander sorry bby i love you, not proofread gomenesai
A/N: anon deserves head for requesting this I FUCKING LOVE THIS FIC best thing i've put out till date no i will not take any arguments. legit got the worst writer's block on this but the power of byun euijoo's cheeks coursed through my clit and i finished it. Panty sniffer euijoo is something I never thought I'd be turned on by but hey here we are my pussy is ready to be bred euijoo. As always, enjoy, my sweethearts!
Word Count: 12.9k (romance babes romance)
Your friends knew, your brother knew, the grocery store cashier knew, the milky way and her children knew. Practically the entire universe knew of your crush on Wang Yixiang.
So it was one of two options: either he was dumb as fuck or you just weren’t his type.
Yeah, there was no way it would be the second option.
As pathetic and disappointing to feminism as it seemed, you had somewhat molded yourself to fit his type. Maybe not his type exactly, but at least a version that could talk to him as easily as the cicadas talked to the morning. The type that could slap his arm playfully when he made a joke and giggle a giggle that would sound like cherry coke. The type that wore baggy jeans and layered belts, just like him. The type that wasn't a quiet, withdrawn bitch that didn't talk to anybody, wrapped in her own ribbons and lace. The type that would be loud.
So when the day died out and you came back home, exhausted from your fictitious persona, you found solace in the one person that knew the true you.
“You look ridiculous with that on.” Euijoo chuckled, watching you wipe away your dark eyeliner—something you barely wore, “I’m surprised he didn't ask if you’re possessed, love."
“Shut up.” You said, glancing at him in the vanity mirror. He was leaning back against the headboard of your bed, one arm thrown over his head lazily, while the other went back to scrolling on his phone, “And he did compliment me today, you absolute dick.”
“You call that a compliment?” Euijoo laughed, throwing his phone down and sitting up, looking at your concentrated face in the mirror removing your makeup. Cute, Euijoo thought. His eyes briefly went down to your thighs in your shorts and then up, thankfully you didn't notice.
Byun Euijoo was a man of many talents. Confessing to his best friend who he had been thirsting over (and masturbating to the image of) ever since last summer was not one of them.
In his defence however……ok he had no defense. Other than the fact that you were the most angelic person he had ever laid his eyes on. And god bless his heart (and dick), the poor boy had had a crush on you since 11th grade.
He knew it would be like all those books you read, the ones in which the guy is whole heartedly, heart-poundingly, cock-crushingly in love with the female lead, who ends up with somebody else. The second male lead syndrome, as you called it, passionately declaring that you would always love the second male lead more.
Euijoo wanted to stand in front of you with a spray painted sign that read “I am your IRL second male lead.”
What on earth did Yixiang even have that he didn't? Apart from the bad-boy look, the beautifully dyed blonde hair, the piercings, the tattoos that he designed himself, the motorbike, the cool sneakers, the–
Euijoo was beginning to see why.
He hadn't noticed it at first, though in hindsight to him now, it was scathingly obvious. The way you asked about Yixiang like nobody else mattered, the way you laughed a little harder at his very unfunny jokes, the way you lingered just a second too long when he was near, the way your voice softened when you said his name. Euijoo used to be the only one who’d hear that sweet tone of yours.
When you had first confided in him about your earth shattering obsession for Yixiang, he wanted to laugh. You two were polar opposites, oil and water. Of course, opposites do attract but you needed to have a common base first—and there were barely any similarities between you two. You guys didn’t even like the same genre of music!
And then when he brought it up, you only laughed (your pretty little laugh) and told him about your plan. Authenticity be fucked, he recalled you saying, all you needed to do was get Yixiang interested. Euijoo would have been lying if he said he didn't feel a bit sorry for you.
If he knew anything about Yixiang, he knew that he wasn’t the type to fall for girls like you. Honey-sweet girls, pale blue ribbons in your hair, starry eyes that looked up at him in a way that made him want to drop to his knees and worship. Honey sweet girls who lived in the clouds and in words, who couldn't handle the emotions that came with being heart-broken.
Euijoo knew you could protect yourself, that you were a woman with a fully functioning brain, but he also couldn't bear the image of you sobbing your heart out the day Yixiang eventually rejected you. He knew he couldn't predict the future and there could be a sliver of a chance for the both of you—but in his humble, knowledgeable opinion, that sliver was smaller than his will to live.
But deep inside, he wanted Yixiang to reject you. He wanted so badly for you to come home to him as you always did, for you to sit down on his bed and ask with those pretty pink lips to have him hold you in his arms as you cried into his chest. It scared him sometimes how badly he wanted such a cruel thing.
But could he really be blamed? When you fit so beautifully in his arms like you were made for his solace alone, like you two were matching puzzle pieces? When he was the only one who knew the deepest, darkest parts of you? When he was the one who had always been there, through desert and storm? Euijoo was a man of many philosophies. At least ninety percent of them revolved around you.
“You coming to Yixiang’s party on the 14th?” You asked, crawling up the bed to reach him, sitting on your knees in front of him. Your shorts barely covered your thighs, a strap of your camisole was slipping off of your shoulder and you were looking at him like he held the world in his arms. How was a man supposed to survive?
“Maybe.” Euijoo hummed, tossing his phone to the side and patting the space beside him, which you quickly occupied, immediately curling into his chest.
You stayed like that for a while, neither of you saying a word, just staring off into space as time ticked away. Euijoo wanted this moment to last forever, just the two of you pressed together like the stars pressed against the dark sky, one of your legs thrown across his, your tits very visible to him as you rested your head on his chest.
“What’s that pretty little head thinking about, hmm love?” He said soothingly, running his slender fingers through your hair. He felt you exhale shakily against him.
“I think…” You started, then you sat up, turning around to face him again, “I’m gonna tell him in two days.” Euijoo stared at you blankly for about ten seconds, as if trying to get your words to penetrate his mind, “Oh don’t look at me like that Ju.” You chuckled, looking down at your fiddling fingers, “If not now, when?”
Euijoo kept staring, with that peculiar look in his eyes that you just couldn't figure out. That look in his eyes that always looked like a night sky enveloping a thunderstorm. You told him that once and he had laughed awkwardly, excusing himself to go get a bottle of water.
“In two days?” Euijoo said at last, sitting up to lean his back against the headboard, “At the party?” His voice was quieter than usual, as you nodded meekly, “I see…”
“That’s all you have to say?” You tilted your head at him, playfully reaching out a hand to grab his chin and tilt his face around, “Who are you and what have you done to my best friend?”
Euijoo’s soft smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he took your hand in his, rubbing circles over your wrist with his thumb. He stared at your joined hands for a while, his breath even and steady as he refused to meet your gaze.
“Ju?” You said gently, “Ju, what is it?” You slowly brought your joined hands up, resting your cheek in his palm. Oh this girl, Euijoo thought, letting out a shuddered breath as he saw how you were looking at him. He tried hard not to let his gaze flicker down.
“It’s nothing, love.” He said, his tone tranquil, “I just….” A breath, “Are you sure? Like a hundred percent sure?” He laughed at your offended expression, shifting closer, “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you love, that’s it.”
“Bad?” You said, with a curious tint in your voice, “Why would anything bad happen?”
Because Yixiang doesn't like you.
Euijoo wanted to scream it out, cradle your face in his hands and tell you those five magical words. He didn’t care if it hurt you even more than whatever Yixiang would say; he didn’t care if this one fuck up got him barred from hearing your angelic voice ever again.
But like all men, he held his tongue.
“It’s probably nothing, I’m just worrying too much.” Euijoo laughed, settling down again, holding out his hand to pull you back for cuddles, “You know how I am, don’t you?”
“That I do.” You giggled, happily going back to your cuddling position, “We can get ready together on the 14th and I can show you what I got for Yixiang.”
“Of course, love.” Euijoo hummed, closing his eyes to allow his mind a second of peace. Which he failed to attain, his mind sending him the most outrageous scenarios ever of the events that would transpire tomorrow.
How slowly the night did fall today.
______________
“Teach me how to kiss.”
Byun Euijoo’s cause of death would have been asphyxiation if you didn't slap him on the back to push the popcorn lodged in his throat out.
“Is this because I said your scarves are ugly.” Euijoo said, rubbing his chest as he put the popcorn bowl down to avoid any more accidents, “Is this my karma?”
“You’re so dramatic.” You said, pausing the show on the tv and turning to face him on the couch. You took both his hands in yours and stared at him with a seriousness that could have rivalled a professor’s, “I need you to teach me how to kiss so that I don’t fuck it up with Yixiang.”
“Are you hearing yourself right now?” Euijoo said, running a hand through his hair, “We don’t even know what Yixiang is gonna say to you.”
“Are you saying you don’t have faith in my plan?” You said, with a pout on your lips, “You don’t trust me, Ju?”
“Of course I trust you but—”
“Then teach me.” Your faces were mere inches apart in seconds, “Teach me how to kiss.” You crossed your arms and looked at him with challenging eyes, “Or do you not love me anymore?”
It's because I love you, you idiot.
Euijoo sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. What had life even come to? What had he done in the past for the universe to serve him this—the woman he loved asking him to teach her how to kiss—on a silver platter? Euijoo wouldn't have minded if death came for him at that moment.
“Fine.”
“Really?” You said excitedly, clapping your hands together, “You’re the best Euijoo has anybody told you that.”
“Yeah yeah I know.” Euijoo let out a breathy chuckle. What the actual fuck was he doing? Practically every remaining inch of logic in him was screaming at him to get up and drown himself in a lake, but here he was, breathing in deeply to remind himself how to kiss. He hadn't done it in quite a while—his last casual hookup was perhaps five months ago.
"Alright, first things first. You need to relax." He moved his hands from yours to your shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze before trailing his touch down your arms. "Tension is said to be the enemy of a good kiss."
“Who says that—”
“Do you want to learn or not?”
You rolled your eyes, nevertheless nodding, feeling your muscles loosen under his ministrations. Euijoo smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, gaze flickering down to your lips.
“Good, now close your eyes.” He waited until you did, then leaned in close. His breath ghosted over your lips as he spoke softly, “Now just…..picture Yixiang if it makes this easier.”
Euijoo mentally slammed his head against a pole when he heard himself say that. ‘If it makes this easier’, who the fuck even says that?
You cracked a mischievous eye open, trying to keep a smile in, when you saw how close Euijoo was, there was barely any air between you two.
“Arms on my shoulders.” He said, you felt him shudder a bit when you followed his instructions but that could have been a figment of your imagination. His hand creeped uncertainly to rest on your thigh. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you ample time to pull away. You didn't.
Euijoo tasted like cherry cola, fizzy and electric against your lips, though his lips were soft and warm as they moved on yours like a choreographed dance. You breathed shakily into the kiss and he intertwined his fingers in yours.
“Slow down, love.” He murmured, not opening his eyes, “We don’t have anywhere to be.” Euijoo's hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin.
In all honesty, he could have evaporated into the air right there and then. The taste of you drove him insane, sweet—oh so fucking sweet, honey straight from the comb on a spring evening, when the scent of lilacs would fill the air and there would be butterflies everywhere.
In shorter words, Byun Euijoo’s cock was screaming at him to take care of it.
“Hmm, like this?” You mumbled, and then his world came crashing down when you moved forward, practically settling yourself into his lap.
Euijoo swallowed hard, his pulse jumping at the feel of your soft curves settling into his lap. The heat of your body seeped through the fabric of his shorts, making his already throbbing cock twitch with renewed interest. He knew he should put a stop to this before it went too far, but damn if he could find the strength to do so. Not when you felt this good in his arms.
“Yeah.” He pulled back, eyes tracing over, god fuck him you were still looking at him with those innocent eyes, “Just….he might do something like this too.”
His hands slid around to the small of your back, holding you close as he went in for another one, a deeper kiss. His tongue delved past your parted lips to stroke along yours in a sensual dance that left you breathless.
“Oh…” You said, finally ending the kiss after a long moment.
“Not bad for a first timer.” Euijoo teased, “But love, could you maybe get off now?” He raised a brow as you blinked at him, once, twice and then scrambled off his lap.
“Sorry about that.” You laughed awkwardly, “Just felt I should do that for some reason.”
“I’m sure he’d love it.” Euijoo said, how the actual hell did you not sense the tone of his voice?
“Really?” Your eyes lit up, light and giddy, “Thank you so much Ju!” You flung your arms around him, pulling him in for a tight hug. Euijoo wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck. As he always did, of course. As all best friends do!
“Wanna play some League?” You said, withdrawing from the hug.
“Sure, love.”
As all best friends fucking do.
__________________
Euijoo leaned back in his gaming chair with a heavy sigh, tossing his headset aside after a late night gaming session. He had left your house at 7 pm, walking back home with barely a brain cell left in him. You had kissed his cheek before he left as you always did, but this time, it inflamed every single molecule that made up his being. He spread his legs wide, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling.
The beautiful flesh of your thighs, the curve of your neck where it met your shoulders, that look in your eyes, the taste of you….
Euijoo pushed himself up, walking to his closet. Opening it, he bent down to his knees and reached deep inside, shuffling his hand around till his fingers grazed it.
He slowly pulled it out and sighed, sitting on his knees on the floor as he stared at it, his cock already straining against his shorts. You must have bought this one on sale, you never really liked it much, which explained why you didn't notice when it went missing from your house.
Euijoo climbed onto his bed, bringing the pair of baby-pink cotton panties up to his face. He buried his nose into the soft fabric, letting the scent fill his senses. God it smelled exactly like you, so fucking honey sweet.
Euijoo breathed in deeply, savoring your intoxicating scent that clung to the delicate fabric. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the lingering traces of your perfume and the musk of your arousal. Would you have worn this when you let your pretty little fingers linger to your sweet cunt? The heady aroma sent a jolt of electric desire straight to his throbbing cock, making it pulse with need.
He brought the panties to his mouth, running his tongue along the crotch. The salty-sweet taste burst across his taste buds, making him groan. He closed his eyes, letting the fantasy take hold as he pictured you spread out beneath him, flushed and panting with desire.
In his mind's eye, Euijoo could see every curve of your luscious body, from your gorgeous breasts down to the enticing cleft between your thighs. He ached to bury his face in your slick folds, to lap at your dripping pussy until you were writhing and screaming his name.
As he lost himself in the erotic daydream, Euijoo fumbled with the button of his shorts, shoving them down just enough to free his straining erection. His fingers curled around his thick shaft, giving it a firm stroke as he imagined how good it would feel to drive deep inside your tight heat.
Euijoo shuddered, picturing your breathy moans as he rocked into you, stretching you open on his hard length. He could feel your velvet walls gripping him, trying to milk his cock for all he was worth. He chuckled as he imagined your mouth falling open in an ‘o’, your nails drawing blood on his back. With each mental thrust, he pumped his hand faster along his pulsing flesh, racing towards his climax.
Tension coiled tight in Euijoo's belly as he fucked into his fist with short, sharp strokes. He could almost hear your keening cries, feel your fingers digging into his shoulders as he pounded into you with desperate abandon.
With a strangled groan, Euijoo threw his head back as pleasure crashed over him in intense waves. His cock jerked in his grasp as he shuddered through each pulse of his orgasm, picturing your face contorted in ecstasy as you came undone beneath him.
Finally spent, Euijoo collapsed back on the bed, his chest heaving as he gulped down air. He knew it wasn't the real thing, but damn if jerking off to thoughts of you didn't make for one hell of a mind-blowing orgasm.
“Fuck…” He said softly, tossing the panties below his bed. With a blissful sigh, he let the post-orgasmic haze pull him under into a deep, satiated slumber.
Sweet, honey filled slumber.
_________________
Euijoo often thought before he acted, a rare quality among human beings nowadays. However, there were rare occasions where he didn’t do that, the keyword being rare.
And today was one of those rare occasions! How fun!
God damn his cock controlled brain—the version which only operated when he was around you—for saying yes to you asking him to help you pick out a dress for the party. Euijoo dressed casually, just a pair of blue jeans and a yellow shirt that fit him tight at the chest.
You, on the other hand, were throwing out the shortest dresses from the depths of your closet. And Euijoo was only a man.
“This one?” You said, looking up and down at yourself in the mirror, glancing at Euijoo sprawled out on the bed behind you, “Don’t say it looks good, you’ve said the same thing for the last five dresses!”
“Have you ever considered the fact that it's because you look good in all of them?”
“Flattery won’t get you out of this, Byun.” You said, spinning around to face him, “Now look properly and tell me which one!”
Whichever one would keep you here and away from confessing to Yixiang.
Euijoo’s eyes raked up and down, admiring the way the short silver dress hugged every curve of your body, cutting off right at your mid thigh, the thin straps showing off your shoulders beautifully. Thank god his hand was covering his crotch.
“Doesn’t Yixiang wear a lot of red?” Euijoo said, throwing an arm over his head, feigning exhaustion, “I think the velvet one would do.”
“You’re actually a genius.” You said, crossing over to pick up the discarded red dress lying on the floor, calling out to you like gold to a midas, “And stop sulking Ju, you agreed to this on your own volition.”
“I call it manipulation.” Euijoo called out, watching you slip into the bathroom to change. As soon as you were gone, his hand worked on his crotch, slowly palming his cock through the fabric. Hopefully, there weren't any hidden cameras in this room, he thought, glancing suspiciously at your teddy bears sitting on the shelf.
“Ok what do we think?”
Euijoo needed to dip his head into a bucket of ice water and never come up for air ever again.
The delicate fabric clung to your curves in all the right places, the neckline just low enough to be enticing—a faux vixen’s play. It nipped at your waist before flaring out slightly at the hips. Euijoo’s gaze trailed over your bare shoulders,, a shiver running down his spine as heat flushed through him.
“Hello? Earth to Byun Euijoo.” You laughed, catching your reflection in the mirror, a thrill of excitement running through you at the thought of seeing Yixiang’s eye at the party. You twirled once in front of the full-length mirror, the skirt flaring out around your thighs.
“Y-Yeah. You look good.” He said, clearing his throat, “We should go or we’ll be stuck in traffic again.” He quickly moved off the bed, his jaw clenched, pulse point in his neck fluttering away.
Byun Euijoo was a man of many talents. Hiding his very large boner perfectly from his best friend was one of them.
___________
Wang Yixiang—resident ‘bad boy’ of the town, prominent motorcyclist, occasional tattoo artist and so much more. He was the kind of guy who could command the attention of a room without breathing a single word, splitting the ocean of a crowd in half wherever he walked in.
Euijoo knew him to be a good person; they had made quick friends after a week of being in the same basketball team. Sure, Yixiang teased the hell out of him, always with that crooked grin and sharp tongue, but there was always something warm beneath it all—a brother he could trust.
And even when this entire situation with you and him arose, Euijoo never felt any animosity towards him. Was it because he knew deep underneath that Yixiang’s type wasn't you? Perhaps. But he was also too good of a friend to feel anything like that.
However, as he stood in the crowded room now, party lights flashing in bursts of violet, blue and gold across faces known and unknown, Euijoo couldn’t help the slow, ugly coil tightening in his chest.
Jealousy.
What a foolish emotion that mortals had.
It sat there, heavy and unrelenting, tightening with every second he spent watching you. You stood near the edge of the living room, just far enough from the chaos to not be swallowed by it completely.
The party itself felt alive in a way that was almost overwhelming—music blasting loud enough to blur thought, bass vibrating through the floor and up his spine. The walls pulsed with shifting lights, casting everyone in flashes of color that made moments feel fragmented, like scenes spliced together too quickly. Someone had opened the windows, but the air was still thick—warm with bodies, laughter, the faint sting of alcohol, and the lingering sweetness of someone’s perfume.
And Euijoo could still pick you out from the chaos effortlessly. And you looked—
He swallowed.
He shouldn't have recommended that dress, if he knew it would make him want to faint and die every time he caught sight of your thighs.The soft fabric of your dress caught the light every time you moved, your hair falling just right over your shoulders.
You laughed at something your friend said, tilting your head slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners—but even that laugh felt distracted, like it didn’t fully belong to the moment. Your fingers traced the rim of your cup absentmindedly, your weight shifting from one foot to the other, like you were waiting for something.
Or someone.
Euijoo leaned back against the wall, a red cup of god knows what held up absentmindedly. He hadn't taken a sip in fifteen minutes now, choosing to alternate his gaze from you to the man you were looking at.
Yixiang stood across the corner of the room, leaning against the wall like he owned the entire world.
Someone was saying something animatedly to him, hands moving fast, but Yixiang only half-listened, head tipped, one foot braced on the wall, gaze distant. He looked effortlessly put together—leather jacket on a tanktop, hands decorated with rings galore, a lazy kind of confidence that made people orbit him without trying.
Someone said something that made the group laugh, and Yixiang’s lips curved, that small, knowing smirk that made people lean in closer. Euijoo saw it happen in real time—the way your attention slipped mid-conversation, drawn like gravity across the room. It was subtle, anyone else might have missed it. But he never missed anything about you.
Euijoo exhaled sharply through his nose, looking at the way your shoulders eased, the way your lips parted just slightly, the way something warm and hopeful flickered through your eyes. His chest tightened painfully.
Euijoo tipped his head back, glancing at the ceiling before closing his eyes, poking the inner side of his cheek with his tongue. His mind ran back to the way you had rambled about your plan to confess to Yixiang.
“I made this.” You said, a little breathless, like you were both proud and nervous at the same time, “I’m gonna give it to him and the party and then tell him.”
Euijoo stared at the bracelet—handmade, thread woven carefully, colours chosen just perfect, small details that made it feel you. Soft and earnest in a way that made it impossible to ignore.
“He mentioned once,” You continued quickly, like you needed to justify it, “that he likes this kind of stuff. Not, like, in a serious way, just—he said it offhand, but I remembered and I thought—” You stopped yourself, laughing a little, embarrassed, “I don’t know. Is it stupid?”
You sat cross-legged on the bed, sunlight spilling in through the window. It caught in your hair, outlining you like painters outlined their muses in loving, golden light.
“He’d love it.” Euijoo finally said, heart going to his stomach at your sweet smile, “I’m sure he would.”
There had been a moment, small and fragile, where Euijoo could have said something, anything to stop you. But he just nodded away and ruffled your hair.
The memory faded slower than he wanted it to, bleeding back into the present. Euijoo opened his eyes again, the noise of the party crashing back in all at once—music, laughter, voices, light. His gaze found you again.
You were saying something now, animated, your hands moving as you talked, and your friend laughed again. Your attention flickered, split between the conversation and the figure across the room, waiting for the right moment.
Euijoo’s hands curled into loose fists at his sides. He could walk over, say something, distract you, stop this before it happened, maybe threaten arson. But he didn’t move, staying right where he was, swallowing the jealousy burning like hellfire in his throat. He merely watched as you fiddled with the bracelet in your hand, waiting for the remainder of the crowd around Yixiang to disperse.
The crowd didn’t leave all at once. It thinned slowly, like a tide pulling back—one person dragged away by a friend, another distracted by a call, a couple disappearing toward the balcony. The laughter around him dulled, the tight circle loosening until it finally broke apart.
And then he was alone. Well, as alone as someone like Wang Yixiang could be at his own party.
Jackpot!
He still leaned against the wall, a red cup in his hand, head tipped slightly as he looked down at it like he had forgotten it was there. The lights flickered over him in uneven colors, catching on the metal of his rings, tracing the line of his jaw, dipping into the hollow of his collarbone where his tank top hung loose.
For a second, you just stood there watching—entranced by his beauty. Your heart thudded so loudly it almost drowned out the music, your grip tightening around the bracelet in your hand. You could feel the threads press into your palm, grounding and terrifying all at once.
This was it—your moment to be the Echo to his Narcissus. Before you could think too hard, before doubt could creep in and ruin everything—you moved. One step, then another; you weaved through the remaining people, barely registering the way shoulders brushed yours. Because all you could see was him.
And then you were there.
Oh fucking lord here you were.
Close enough to notice the faint scent of something clean and sharp, close enough to see the small details—the faint smudge of ink near his wrist, the way his lashes cast shadows when he blinked. Even the lord couldn't save you now. You adjusted your hair and moved.
“Hey.” You said, voice coming out softer (and shakier) than you intended. Yixiang looked up. For a split second, his expression was unreadable—like he was pulling himself out of wherever his thoughts had been. And then recognition settled in, easy and familiar.
“Oh,” He said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, “Hi there.” God he sounded so fucking hot, that effortless shift in his attention once it fully settled on you, “You’re here.”
You huffed out a small, nervous laugh. “Should I not be?”
“Mmhh, Euijoo usually tells me when he brings you along, so I’m just surprised.” He tilted his head, “Nice dress, you look cute.” Your cheeks warmed.
Godpleasefuckingsaveme.
You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly hyper-aware of everything—your posture, your voice, the way your fingers tightened around the bracelet.
“You too.” You managed, "It's a uhh…a good party.” Who the actual fuck even says that?
“Yeah?” He glanced around briefly, like he was seeing it for the first time. “Bit loud, though.”
“A bit,” You agreed, smiling. There was a beat, not too awkward. You were used to such silences between you and him.
Yixiang shifted, pushing himself off the wall fully this time. “You want something to drink?” He asked, lifting his cup slightly before glancing at it and making a face. “Actually—don’t take this. I have no idea what this is.”
You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension in your chest. “That doesn’t sound very reassuring.”
“C’mon,” He said, nodding his head toward the kitchen. “I’ll get you something that won’t kill you.”
You hesitated for half a second (could he get his fine ass in your life) and then nodded.
You followed him through the crowd, the space parting for him without effort. It was quieter in the kitchen, the music more muffled, replaced by the low hum of the fridge and the occasional clatter of someone passing through.
Yixiang moved easily, grabbing a bottle from the counter, reaching for a clean cup. “What do you want?” He asked, glancing back at you.
“Um—anything’s fine.”
“Dangerous answer, sweetheart.” He muttered, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice as he poured something anyway, sliding the cup toward you.
“Thanks.” You wrapped your fingers around it, but didn’t drink, mind lingering on the way his veins flexed as he closed the bottle.
Your attention wavered to the bracelet in your other hand. You tried to keep it casual, resting it loosely against your side, but you could feel it like it weighed a hundred pounds.
Say it.
Not yet.
Say it now!
Wait.
Yixiang leaned back against the counter this time, mirroring how he had stood earlier, one hand resting beside him. “You good?” He asked, eyes flicking briefly to your face. “You look like you’re thinking really hard about something.”
“Is it that obvious?” You let out a small breath, laughing nervously.
“Little bit.” He said and your heart pounded.
Just do it!
“Actually,” you started, your voice catching before you steadied it, “I…..I made something.” His gaze dropped immediately to your hand.
“The thing you’ve been holding onto like your life depends on it?” Yixiang asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
You groaned softly. “Please don’t say it like that.”
“Sorry, sorry.” He huffed out a quiet laugh, “Let me see?” Your fingers tightened for just a second before you stepped forward (an unnecessary step) and held it out to him.
Yixiang took it carefully, more careful than you expected, his rings cool against your skin as his fingers brushed yours, your brain almost stopped.
“You made this?” he asked, the teasing edge in his expression softened, something more thoughtful settling in its place as he turned the bracelet slightly between his fingers, tracing the threads, the details.
“Yeah,” you said, suddenly very aware of the distance between you. “I—um—I remembered you said you liked stuff like that, so I thought—”
“It’s nice,” he cut in gently.
Your breath hitched. Tension is the enemy of a good kiss.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He nodded once, still looking at it. “It’s…..really nice.” Relief bloomed in your chest, warm and bright and terrifying all at once.
“This is for me?” he asked, glancing back up at you. You nodded, a small pause. “What’s the occasion?”
And there it was. Your moment of salvation.
Your stomach flipped. Your fingers curled slightly around your cup, grounding yourself as you forced the words past the sudden tightness in your throat.
“I just—” you started, then stopped, letting out a breath. “I wanted to tell you something.”
“Oookay.” Yixiang drawled, expression not changing, “Go on, I’m listening.” You swallowed.
Now.
“I like you,” You said, the words rushing out before you could stop them. “I have for a while, actually, and I just—I wanted you to know. And I thought maybe—” your voice faltered, “—maybe you’d feel the same. Or…..something like that.”
Euijoo once told you a quote that he had made up on a June evening—‘Silence is the food of love’. You had zero idea what he meant by that but you went along anyway, letting him brush a strand of hair behind your ear as you two ate pizza.
This silence was torturous, long enough for your heartbeat to feel unbearably loud. Yixiang blinked once, then looked down at the bracelet again, turning it slowly between his fingers.
And then he laughed. It would have been better if he laughed loudly in a mocking way as he usually did, throwing his head back and practically bellowing.
But oh the way he laughed now, so softly and gently, as one does to comfort a child who’s had a nightmare. You felt your heart melt in its cage, he laughed so kindly.
“Hey,” He said, stepping a little closer. His hand came up, resting lightly on your shoulder, warm and steady, and somehow, apologetic.
“You’re really sweet,” he said, voice gentler now. “Like—really. This?” he lifted the bracelet slightly, “This is probably one of the nicest things anyone’s done for me.” Your throat tightened. “But…” he continued, and the word felt inevitable.
“I don’t think I’m your guy.”
The sentence landed softly, spoken like a poem. But god it still landed. You forced yourself to hold his gaze. He didnt even look uncomfortable or weirded out, he just looked so fucking calm. And you were drowning in the ocean.
“I’m just—not really looking for anything like that,” he went on, his thumb brushing lightly over the threads of the bracelet. “And even if I was…” he exhaled quietly, a small, almost self-aware smile tugging at his lips, “you’re not really my type.”
It was the fact that he said it so gently, practically cajoling you. He could have, should have, screamed it at you instead, laughed cruel and high and told you to piss off. But he said it like he was comforting you, letting you down easy and then you felt the ocean rise higher.
“I mean that in the best way,” he added quickly, his hand giving your shoulder a small squeeze. “You’re—good. Like, actually good. You deserve someone who’s gonna… I don’t know, not be me.”
All you wanted was him.
“I-” You started, eyes at the floor, your breaths coming a bit too quick, like you couldn't get enough air.
“Are you alright, sweetheart? Should I call Euijoo or—”
“No.” The word came out faster than you intended. You shook your head immediately, stepping back. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, even though it was obvious you weren’t. “I just—need some air.” You didn’t wait for a response, didn’t give him time to say anything else that might make this worse, or kinder, or harder to leave.
You turned and walked out. You made it through the kitchen, past the doorway, back into the chaos of the party. The music slammed into you again, loud and disorienting, lights flashing too bright, people moving too close. It felt suffocating now—every laugh too sharp, every voice too loud.
Your vision blurred at the edges as you pushed through the crowd, murmuring quiet apologies when you bumped into someone, your grip tightening around nothing now—the cup long forgotten somewhere behind you.
Don’t cry.
Don’t cry.
Don’t—
By the time you reached the door, your steps had quickened. By the time you stepped outside, you were running. The cool night air hit you like a shock, sharp against your skin, but it didn’t help. If anything, it made everything worse, made it all feel too real.
Your vision blurred completely now, tears spilling over before you could stop them, breath hitching as you stumbled a few steps forward, arms wrapping around yourself like you could hold everything in.
It hurt.
God it fucking hurt.
__________
Euijoo was known among your circle of friends for being highly perceptive. He somehow knew exactly what someone was going through even before that person could get a word out. He didn't need the other person to say a word—he’d just sit there in silence alongside them, tissues and water in hand, until they were ready to talk or cry.
Euijoo didn’t hear what was said—didn’t need to. He saw the way you moved, too fast, too abrupt, your head down and your shoulders tight. And then you were gone out the door before he could even say anything.
Euijoo straightened instantly, the cup in his hand abandoned on the nearest surface without a second thought. Something sharp surged through him, cutting clean through everything else as he moved
“Hey—where are you—” His friend Fuma started, but he was already pushing past, eyes fixed on the door you had disappeared through.
“Euijoo!” A hand caught his arm briefly. He turned, just enough to see Yixiang standing there, brows drawn slightly, gaze flicking toward the door and then back to him.
“Are you—” Yixiang began, an uncertain tone to his voice. His gaze darted toward the door, then back to Euijoo like he was trying to piece something together too late. “Just tell her I’m sorry.”
The words hung there for a second. Euijoo held his gaze for just a moment longer, something unreadable passing through his eyes. Then he gave a small nod.
“It’s not your fault, Nicho.” He sighed, “She’s just….” He thought about it for a second and then shook his head, looking up at Yixiang with a faint smile, “I’ll tell her.”
Yixiang nodded, hand slipping away from his arm as he disappeared into the party, and for a fraction of a second, Euijoo stayed there.
Thinking, pondering, wondering……whatever other synonym for his brain sending him thoughts existed. Beneath that anger and ache and every other fucked up emotion tangled within the crevices of his heart, there lay something else. Something he hated himself for. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, gone almost as soon as it appeared.
You were hurting.
And entirely his to take care of now.
Euijoo turned without another word, pushing through the door and into the cool night air, his eyes already searching for his car. You probably would have ran all the way home—in heels? Sure an unlikely probability but hey, a broken heart is capable of wonderous things.
Truly wonderous things.
________________
“Love?” Euijoo knocked on the door as softly as he could, knuckles barely making a sound against the wood—like anything louder might shatter whatever fragile state you were in on the other side.
For a moment, there was nothing, neither movement nor sound. Just the quiet hum of the night stretching between him and you. He shifted his weight slightly, jaw tightening, resisting the urge to knock again. His hands curled at his sides instead, forcing himself to be patient.
You’d open it. You always did.
A faint sound finally came from inside—shuffling, uneven footsteps and the soft click of the lock. And then the door creaked open.
Euijoo swore he’d never seen anyone this beautiful before.
Eyes glassy, our cheeks were flushed a deep, aching red, tear tracks visible under the dim porch light. You'd changed out from your dress, wearing an oversized shirt and shorts now. Your hair—usually so carefully done—had fallen loose and messy, strands sticking to your damp skin, framing your face in a way that stole the breath from his lungs. The Goddess of beauty could have stood in front of him and all he’d see was you.
Every piece of you was laid bare in front of him and something in his mind told him to be proud of this fact. Only he could see you like this. So unperfectly perfect.
“Hey,” he said quietly. Your lips parted like you were about to say something—maybe to explain, maybe to brush it off, maybe to tell him you were fine, but nothing came out.
Instead, your face crumpled and that was enough. Euijoo didn’t wait for any more words. He stepped forward gently, one hand coming up instinctively to cradle the side of your head as he pulled you into him, the other wrapping around your shoulders, steady and firm.
“I’ve got you.” He murmured, voice low. “It’s okay, I’m right here, love.”
His sweet voice was all it took.
The tears came again, stronger this time, your body folding into his as a broken sob left your chest, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing holding you up. He held you tighter, one hand smoothing over your hair, slow and repetitive, the other pressed securely against your back as he guided you inside without breaking the hold.
“Come on.” He said softly, nudging the door shut behind him with his foot. “Let’s just sit down, yeah?”
You nodded weakly, though your grip on him didn’t loosen. Euijoo led you to the couch, movements careful, like you might fall apart if he went too fast. He sat first, gently pulling you down with him, guiding you until you were tucked against his side.
He adjusted so you were comfortable, your head resting naturally against his shoulder, his arm wrapping around you properly. Your breaths came uneven, breaking apart into soft, shaky sobs that you tried to stifle but couldn’t quite manage. Your fingers curled into his shirt, holding on like you were afraid he might disappear if you let go.
Euijoo didn’t say anything. He just stayed, one hand moving slowly through your hair, untangling gentle knots, tucking strands away from your face. The other rubbed small, steady circles into your arm with a quiet rhythm.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Euijoo murmured, tilting his head slightly toward yours.
“For not listening to you.” You said, barely lifting your head, “You know….when you said I’m not his type and he’d probably just—”
“Hey, no.” Euijoo said, arm tightening around you like he was physically stopping the thought from going any further. “Don’t do that.” You let out a weak, shaky breath, your fingers curling tighter into his shirt.
“But you were right,” you whispered, voice small, almost embarrassed. “You told me and I still—I still went and—”
“And what?” He cut in softly. There was that familiar soft scolding tone to his voice, “You liked someone,” he continued, a little quieter now. “And you told them. That’s not something you apologize for, love.”
“It feels stupid,” you admitted, your voice cracking again. “I made that bracelet and everything and I just—I really thought—” Your words dissolved into another broken breath. Euijoo’s hand slowed in your hair, his fingers smoothing gently over the strands before resting briefly at the back of your head.
“It’s not stupid, love.” Euijoo said, after a brief moment of calming silence, “It’s just….life.” You laughed against his shoulder but he continued, “That doesn’t make it stupid,” he said. “It just means he didn’t feel the same.”
“That’s worse.” You mumbled and a quiet exhale left him.
Well wouldn't he know?
“Yeah,” he admitted. “It kind of is.”
“I just—” you swallowed, your voice smaller now, worn out from crying, “I really liked him, Euijoo.”
“I know,” he murmured, oh if only you knew.
“I thought……maybe if I did it right—if I was…” you hesitated, searching for the word, “enough—”
“Hey.”
This time it wasn’t just his voice. His hand shifted from your hair to gently cup the side of your face, guiding you to look up at him. Your eyes met his and you almost gasped at how gentle they were.
“Don’t finish that sentence like that,” he said quietly. There was something different in his expression now, something a little more serious, “You being ‘enough’ has nothing to do with whether he likes you or not.”
Your brows pulled together slightly, like you didn’t quite believe him. Euijoo’s thumb brushed lightly under your eye, catching a tear before it could fall.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, love.” he continued. “You didn’t mess it up. You didn’t say it weird or give the wrong thing or pick the wrong moment.” A small pause. “He just wasn’t the right person to hear it.”
The words settled between you, softly heavy. Your gaze stayed on his for a moment longer than before, like you were trying to find something in them—something steady enough to latch onto and pull yourself up.
“I just…” you exhaled shakily, “I really thought tonight would be different.” Euijoo didn’t interrupt, just watching you, “I even thought…” you let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh, dropping your gaze again, “I thought maybe I’d have my second kiss tonight.”
Byun Euijoo was a man of many talents.
Stopping the blood rushing to his dick at those words was not one of them.
“Your second kiss?” He said, voice somehow very steady.
“Yeah.” You laughed again, wiping your tears and sniffling, “You were my first, remember?”
Oh.
Right.
Your….first…kiss….
Euijoo went very still, chest tightening at the memory, sweet as honey straight from the comb. He swallowed, staring, just staring at you. You were talking about something else now with shy laughs and not one word was going through his head. All he could see was the fact that he was his sweet girl’s first kiss.
“I don’t know....” You sighed, not noticing the storm brewing in his gaze, too busy fiddling with your fingers, “Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe kissing him wouldn't have felt that good.” You shook your head faintly, “You know, like how it felt with you.”
God should have struck Byun Euijoo and his dick-controlled mind down right there and then.
Well at least before he said his next words.
“Would you like to feel like that again?”
Great job, you horny idiot.
“Mmh?” You said, looking up at him with those widened eyes, “Did you say something Ju?”
God this girl is testing me. Euijoo's jaw clenched, his mind reeling from the image of your lips on anyone else. No, you were his to cherish, to claim in ways that would erase any doubt. He swallowed hard, voice dropping to a low, husky rumble that sent shivers down your spine.
“I asked—” He leaned closer, half lidded eyes flickering down to your lips and staying there, “—if you’d like to feel like that again, love?”
They say seduction is a delicate art—fragile like a domino, one wrong move and poof! Everything is gone. However, when one’s mind is high under the influence of stupid, stupid human emotions, the domino will stay upright no matter what western wind hits it.
“Only if you want to, love.” Euijoo said, tilting his head with a soft smile, “I just want to make you feel better, you know that right?”
Your eyes widened, cheeks flushing hot as his words sank in. Hesitation flickered through you—nerves twisting in your stomach at the implication—but the trust you'd placed in him, the way he'd always made you feel safe, pulled you under.
Euijoo was your best friend, of course he’d only want the best for you right? His soft gaze was locked onto you, a gentle anchor in the storm.
“Yeah….” You nodded slowly, barely a whisper escaping, “Yeah I think I’d like that, Ju.”
Euijoo’s warm smile eased the tension in your chest as he brought a hand up to cup your cheek, running a thumb over the skin. You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch without protest.
“Just…..tell me if you want to stop.”
Before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.
Yeah, like he was ever going to stop.
It was soft at first, a tender kiss meant to soothe. You hesitated, your shyness making your cheeks flush, but the fucked up emotions bubbling inside you craved the comfort. And something else inside you was starved of this kind of touch. You parted your lips, letting him deepen the kiss, unaware of the drastic effect it was having on your best friend. His mouth moved against yours with affectionate slowness, his tongue slipping in to taste you, coaxing a quiet sigh from your throat.
“Ju….” You said, melting into the kiss, one hand resting on his chest while the other rested on his shoulder.
“Hmm?” Euijoo said, pulling back just enough, his eyes dark, “Do you want to stop, love?”
In hindsight, you probably should have stopped. You had maybe two cups of shitty alcohol in you and he was your best friend. But for some stupid reason he tasted soooo good. And no one gives up nectar do they?
“Want more.” You said, breathing a bit heavy, eyes flickering down to his plump lips, “Please?”
Byun Euijoo was a dead man as soon as those syllables spilled from your mouth.
“More?” He said, his hand cupping the back of your neck, lips curving into a faint smile. His free arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush, his erection already hardening against your thigh—a thick, insistent bulge that made you gasp.
“More what, my love?”
My love.
In that moment, Euijoo looked simply divine—the golden light of the lamplight illuminating his soft features, those plush cheeks and those eyes that seemed like deep pools of honey. He always called you ‘love’. He’d never called you his love before though. And some part of you really really liked it.
“Euijoo….” You sighed, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks and other parts of your body, “I want you to kiss me.” His eyes darkened at your response, a small smirk playing on his lips. You giggled, feeling every emotion in the world get to your brain all at once, “I want you to kiss me aaalll over.”
Now who was Euijoo to deny you? A best friend that behaved like a best friend? Please.
“As you wish, my love.”
In an instant, he closed the distance, his large hand cupping the back of your neck as he drew you in. His lips crashed against yours, hungry, tongue slipping past to taste you properly. You melted into the kiss, your frame pressing against his solid chest.
The kiss grew hungrier as you melted into it, your hands clutching at his shirt. Euijoo's fingers threaded through your hair, holding you steady as your tongues danced. He nipped at your bottom lip, drawing a small gasp from you, and you felt the tension in your body start to uncoil. Making out with him felt so intimate and unhurried, pushing everything else—Yixiang, false personas, bracelets—to the edges of your mind and replacing it with the heat building between you.
Euijoo’s hands moved to grip your hips, lifting you up effortlessly. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, gasping as sat you down on his lap. It was nothing much—you had sat there multiple times in the past. But you were just friends back then and now you were…..something else.
"E-Euijoo..." You breathed out, tangling your fingers in his hair as he started to trail kisses along your jawline. His teeth nipped at your earlobe, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.
“Mmhh, you’re such a pretty girl.” Euijoo murmured against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip your ass. “So fucking beautiful.”
He ground his hips against yours, letting you feel just how hard he was. The friction of his erection rubbing against your clothed core had you squirming and mewling, desperate for more.
“Ju I—”
“Let me take care of you, love.” Euijoo pulled back just enough to speak, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling, “I’ll make it all go away for you.” HIs voice was so very low, like a soft desperate prayer, “Do you trust me?”
You nodded, your heart pounding. Innocence clung to you like a veil—you'd never gone this far, never let anyone touch you like this. The thought of it scared you, made your stomach twist with nerves. But it was Euijoo. And Euijoo would never want to hurt you right?
“Are you sure?” You said, your voice trembling, “What if I don’t…you know—” You swallowed, god the thought of your first time being unsexy as fuck terrified you, “do it right?”
But Euijoo, sweet sweet Euijoo only smiled gently, cupping your face in his hands. His hands were the most familiar thing in the world, and right now, they felt like home.
“There is no right way, baby.” He said, pressing a kiss to your nose, “I’ll go slow alright? Just relax for me, hm?” His words wrapped around you like a blanket, reassuring and warm, easing the fear knotting in your chest.
His hand slid down your side, fingers splaying over your hip, thumb brushing the edge of your shirt. You whimpered, the sound fueling his desire, and he guided you backward toward the couch, laying you down with careful strength.
You looked like the most ethereal thing in the world—the kind of thing poets would write about when they tried to describe beautiful things. The kind of thing the gods would fight over—with your hair splayed all over, chest rising up and down and your flushed cheeks. Pretty, pretty girl.
Euijoo’s hands roamed your body over your clothes at first, tracing your curves until you arched into him. He kissed down your neck, sucking lightly on your skin as he tugged your shirt up and off, exposing your bra. You shivered, feeling exposed yet safe under his gaze.
“Euijoo…” you breathed, fingers tangling in his hair.
He laid you down gently on the couch, his kisses trailing lower, over your stomach, fingers hooking into your shorts and tugging them down along with your panties. Naked now, vulnerable, you tried to close your thighs, but he nudged them apart with his knee, settling between.
Euijoo hovered over you, his weight a comforting cage as he kissed you again, slower now. His tongue explored your mouth, intoxicating strokes that left you breathless, while his hand ventured to your skin, palm warm against you. You arched into his touch, innocence cracking under the wave of need he ignited.
“So fucking beautiful baby.” He whispered, voice rough. You squirmed beneath him, heat pooling between your legs as he lavished attention on your body, kissing your thigh softly. His eyes darkened with desire as he looked at your bare pussy, already glistening from the make-out session.
God she’s so adorable.
Euijoo leaned down, mouth latching onto one peak, sucking firmly while his thick fingers teased the other, pinching just enough to draw a gasp from you. The size of his hand dwarfed your chest, making every caress feel overwhelmingly possessive.
You knew what he was going to do—stick those thick, girthy fingers into your wet folds and make you see heaven. You’d read about it so many times, letting your little fingers wander and leave you on the edge of an orgasm but never quite hit that sweet spot. Would your best friend really be able to reach it?
“Love.” Euijoo said, calling your gaze to his, “Just breathe for me, alright? I’ll go slow, I promise.” How sweet he sounded, even as his index finger nudged dangerously high up your inner thigh. The size of his hands made your breath hitch; you were so very untouched and you weren’t sure if they were even going to fit.
But then he was pushing one finger inside and your back was already arching, your head pressing deeper back into the cushion as your mouth hung open in an ‘o’. The stretch burned slightly as your walls gripped him tight tight tight.
“Fuck you’re tight.” Euijoo swore under his breath, tilting his head at you, eyes full of (faux) sympathy, “You want me to continue baby?” He was fighting a battle with himself not to moan at your already fucked out face, hair sprawled all over, those eyes looking up at him so very drunkenly.
“Hmmm…” You hummed, “Feel so good Ju….want more, please?”
Oh you were going to be the death of him.
“Of course, my love.” His touch was electric, making a string of whimpers seep out of your mouth. His eyes went to where he had breached you and Euijoo almost moaned. You were taking his finger so well, he couldn't help but imagine you taking his cock.
You moaned loud, the discomfort fading into bliss, and he added a second finger, scissoring to stretch you wider. The fullness was intense, the girth filling you in a way that bordered on too much, but the pleasure overrode it.
“Oh oh fuck!” You screamed as he curled his fingers to hit a particular spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids, “Euijoo right there—oh goddd….”
So that was where your clit was. And how easily Euijoo found it, as if he’d been training for this moment his entire life. How funny it was that your best friend knew you so very well.
“Right there?” Euijoo cooed, now rubbing slow circles on your clit with his thumb, his ego was filled to the brim that he’d found her so quick, “You like that, my love?” He thrust them deeper, thumb on your clit, and your orgasm crashed over you easily—body shaking, pussy clenching around his fingers as you cried out his name.
That precipice of pleasure you’d always stood at but never crossed was gone now, and you were floating in the ocean, the waves cradling you to their warmth. You cried out his name like a ballad, body trembling as he coaxed you through it, whispering how good you were for him.
As you came down, panting, he withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean. The sight made your core clench again, a fresh wave of heat flooding you. His tongue swirled round his finger like he was licking up nectar. Euijoo watched you with affectionate eyes, leaning down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself.
“See how sweet you are?” He murmured, one hand gripping your thigh open, “I’m just going to do something, and I promise it’ll feel good, okay?”
You merely nodded, desperate now to feel that wave of pleasure in your chest again. Whatever Euijoo did would feel like heaven and you were up for it wholeheartedly.
Euijoo's gaze locked onto yours, dark with desire, as he slid down your body slowly. His hands parted your thighs wider, making you shiver in anticipation. He settled between your legs like he belonged, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, sending sparks racing up your spine.
Without a word, Euijoo dipped his head and pressed his mouth to your pussy, his tongue flicking out to trace a long, firm stroke from your entrance to your clit. The warmth of his tongue contrasted with the lingering ache from your recent orgasm, reigniting the fire in your core. You gasped, hips bucking instinctively toward him, but he held you steady with firm hands on your inner thighs.
"Stay still, love," he murmured against your skin, the vibration of his voice humming through you.
Then he dove in fully, his lips sealing around your clit, sucking gently at first, drawing it between his teeth with just enough pressure to make your toes curl. His tongue swirled in tight, insistent circles, lapping at the swollen nub with expert precision, as if mapping every nerve ending.
Pleasure built rapidly, a coiling tension in your belly that had you threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. Euijoo groaned in response, the sound muffled as he buried his face deeper, his nose brushing your mound while his tongue delved lower. You tasted like no heaven could ever compare.
He licked broad stripes along your slit, gathering your arousal on his tongue before plunging it inside you, fucking you with shallow thrusts that mimicked what he needed to do with his currently painfully hard cock. Your breaths came in ragged pants, each lap and suck sending jolts of ecstasy radiating outward.
"Euijoo... oh! Just like that—oh fuck Ju!" you whimpered, your body arching off the couch. He hummed approval, the vibration intensifying everything, and alternated between sucking your clit hard and flattening his tongue to rub firm, relentless pressure over it.
He was relentless, affectionate in his hunger, one hand sliding up to pinch and roll your nipple while the other kept your thigh pinned. Your pussy throbbed under his assault, walls fluttering as another climax approached, faster and fiercer than the last.
Euijoo sensed it, redoubling his efforts—tongue flicking rapidly, lips tugging, until you shattered again, crying out as waves of bliss crashed through you, your release coating his chin.
He didn't stop, gentling his touches to guide you through the aftershocks, kissing your inner thighs softly before looking up at you with a satisfied, glistening smile.
“Taste so perfect, my love.” He said, voice husky, crawling back up to claim your lips in a deep, sharing kiss, “So good for me…”
“Ju…” You kissed him back, mind already hazy, “Euijoo…..want moreee..” You were whining away your words, not even sure if they were coherent enough. Euijoo only chuckled.
“More?” He said, eyes meeting yours with a spark of deeper hunger, “Baby, aren’t you tired?” The afterglow of your orgasms lingered, but the air between you crackled with unspoken want.
“Mmmhh…” You moaned, staring up at him with half-lidded eyes that made his dick twitch, “—promised you’d make me feel good….” You were blabbering yet again, trying and failing to raise your hips to meet his pelvis, “want your cock Ju please please pleeaseeee…”
It was in that moment that Byun Euijoo truly realised the beauty of life. The day had started off with him waking up to a raging boner because of a wet dream with you and now the sun was about to set with his cock nestled deep in your warm walls. Life was amazing.
“Oh?” Euijoo said, his voice roughened by desire, “What was that sweetheart?”
“Want your cock…” You whined again, bold hands coming up to tug at his hair. You pulled him down for a sloppy kiss and Euijoo swore he could have busted a nut right there and then, “Please Ju?”
“Of course, my love.” He cooed at you, as he scooped you up effortlessly, your body limp against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, heart racing at the intimacy of being carried like this.
He carried you up the stairs to the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind him as he laid you down on the soft sheets. The sheets you two had once cuddled in, talked each other’s ears off and cried your hearts out. The very bedroom Byun Euijoo would be making use of the one talent he commanded well. What is it, you may ask? Taking the virginity of his best friend, of course.
You bit your lip, hesitation flooding back as he stripped off his shirt, revealing the lean muscles of his torso. His pants followed, and when he pushed down his boxers, your eyes widened at the sight of his cock—thick and long, veins pulsing along its length, the head already leaking pre-cum.
The size of it dwarfed anything you'd imagined, making your untouched pussy clench in a mix of fear and curiosity. Thought of him inside you sent a cold shiver down your spine. And heat to your legs but never mind that.
“Ju…” You murmured, voice trembling as you sat up slightly, pulling the sheet over yourself, “I don’t know if I can…”
Euijoo knelt on the bed, his hands gentle as he pulled the sheet away, exposing you again. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing over your features, making you look even more beautiful.
“Hey, look at me.” He said softly, cupping your face. His thumb brushed your cheek, eyes locking onto yours with that loving reassurance, “You trust me right? I’ll make it good for you baby, I swear.” His words melted your resistance, “But if you want to stop, just tell me and I’ll stop, hm?”
You nodded, lying back as he positioned himself between your legs, his broad frame hovering over you. He kissed you deeply, tongue stroking yours to distract and soothe, while one hand guided his cock to your entrance.
In all honesty you couldn't believe this was happening. You'd always imagined your first time, chocolates, candles and roses and a man with a brow piercing. You’d imagined softness, hands perfectly molded and the feeling of ultimate pleasure.
Euijoo’s hand was warmly familiar in yours and the scent of him was comforting, chocolates and roses and soft laughter that never failed to steady the ground beneath your feet. You let yourself sink into the mattress, going almost dumb and pliant for him. My my, did he look weirdly gorgeous.
Euijoo gripped the base of his cock, guiding the thick head to your entrance, rubbing it slowly along your folds to coat himself in your wetness. The pressure against your clit made you gasp, a fresh spark of arousal igniting low in your belly.
“Breathe for me, my love.” Euijoo whispered in your ear, kissing just beneath it, one of his hands entwined in yours and the other holding your hip.
“Euijoo….”
And then you could feel him everywhere.
From between your legs to your chest to your throat, everything was just Euijoo Euijoo Euijoo. Sweet Euijoo, pretty Euijoo, your Euijoo.
“Baby?” Euijoo panted, ever so worried about you even when his dick was being squeezed for all it was worth by your walls, “Baby, you with me?” His hand intertwined with yours, squeezed gently as he paused, not even halfway in yet. You were just too damn tight.
“Ju ohhhh…” You groaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head, “feel so—fuckkkk—feel so full Ju…”
And he wasn't even halfway in.
Euijoo's dick twitched again as he chuckled and brought his hand up to cradle your cheek. “I know, my love I know. I’m going to push in, ok?”
The stretch burned as he pushed, his thickness forcing your walls to yield. You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, the pain sharp and unfamiliar. “It hurts..” you whimpered, tears pricking your pretty eyes, which only drove Euijoo more insane. He paused, letting you adjust, his breath warm against your lips.
"That's it, you're doing so well," he praised, voice low and soothing. He kissed you softly, tongue slipping in to distract as he sank deeper, filling you halfway before stopping again. Your body tensed, god you were so fucking full, but the ache blended with a deep, throbbing pleasure that made your toes curl.
“Euijoo…..oh…” You moaned sweetly against his lips.
“ know, shh…” he breathed against your lips, freezing until you adjusted. “Breathe with me. You're so tight, taking me like this—fuck, you're perfect.”
Inch by breathtaking inch, he sank deeper, his cock filling you completely, the size making you feel impossibly stretched. He bottomed out with a groan, hips flush against yours, and held still, letting you acclimate to the fullness.
“Are you alright, my love?” Euijoo said, eyes tracing over you, “Open your eyes baby, let me see those pretty eyes, thaaat’s a good girl.”
“So good Ju….” You moaned, the air whooshing out your lungs at the sight of him, strands of hair falling onto his forehead, slightly hiding his eyes, plush pink kissable lips, “Move…please.”
The pain ebbed into a dull ache, replaced by a growing warmth as he began to move—shallow thrusts at
first, pulling out just enough to slide back in. You moaned softly, the sound escaping unbidden, your body betraying your initial hesitation.
"Feels good?" he asked, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. You bit your lip, nodding, shifting your hips experimentally.
His pace was unhurried, each thrust long and measured, draaagging his cock along your inner walls to hit sensitive spots that made constellations flicker in your vision. The friction built gradually, your arousal easing the way, turning the stretch into pure bliss.
Euijoo's hand released yours to brace on the mattress beside your head, his other sliding under your thigh to hook your leg higher on his waist. This angle let him grind deeper, the head of his cock nudging your cervix with each full stroke, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through your core. You moaned, wrapping your arms around Euijoo’s neck, pulling him closer as your bodies moved in sync like voices harmonizing.
He kissed your neck, sucking lightly at the skin while his hips rolled steadily, fucking you with a rhythm that was both tender and insistent. Sweat beaded on his skin, his lean muscles flexing with every controlled push, the dim light casting shadows that highlighted the intimacy of it all. Your pussy fluttered around him, growing wetter, the lewd sounds of skin meeting skin filling the room alongside your shared breaths.
Your whines grew louder, pornographic moans spilling out as you clutched at him, hips starting to rock in rhythm. The corruption of your innocence fueled his desire—he watched your face contort in bliss, his shy girl giving way to raw need. It snapped something in him; his eyes darkened, grip tightening on your hips as he went feral.
“Fuck baby—ah hahh—sound so pretty for me—shit…” He growled, thrusting harder now, the bed creaking under the force.
His cock pounded into you, relentless and deep, the size making every plunge overwhelming. You cried out, legs wrapping around his waist, the pain fully forgotten in the haze of ecstasy. Euijoo buried his face in your neck, teeth grazing your skin before biting down—sharp nips that marked you as his, followed by his tongue licking the spots soothingly.
“Mine.” He murmured between licks, sucking at your pulse point while his hips snapped forward, “Mine all mine, aren’t you pretty girl?” The loving bites sent jolts straight to your core, heightening the build-up, “Say it for me, my love.”
“Y-Yours…..” You managed to stutter out, almost screaming when his hand slipped between your bodies to circle your clit with his thumb, “Yours Euijoo! God, only yours—oh fuck fuck!”
The first orgasm hit you suddenly, your pussy clamping down on his thick length as waves crashed through you. “Euijoo!” you sobbed, body arching off the bed. He didn't slow, fucking you through it, his groans vibrating against your neck.
“One more, my love.” he demanded, voice husky with control, “You can do it, I know you can.”
His thrusts turned punishing, cock stretching you wide with each brutal drive. He bit your neck again, harder this time, tongue lapping at the sting as his hand pinned your thigh open wider. The coil in your belly tightened, pleasure mounting with each deep plunge.
"Euijoo... closer," you gasped, and he obliged, draping his body over yours fully, his chest pressing to your breasts as he thrust harder but still languidly, drawing out every inch.
Your orgasm hit like a slow wave this time, crashing over you in shuddering pulses, your pussy milking his cock as you cried out, nails raking down his back. Cum leaked from where you joined, your moans turning to breathless pleas.
Euijoo followed soon after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a guttural moan, his bites softening to tender licks as he rode out his release. He rocked through it, prolonging both your releases, before collapsing gently beside you, both panting in the afterglow. He pulled you into his arms, his hand smoothing over the back of your head, cock still twitching inside as he kissed your marked neck.
“You did so well.” He shepherd, kissing the crown of your head, holding you close in the quiet of the room, “Perfect, my love.”
His heart pounded against your ear, the steady rhythm gradually slowing as exhaustion seeped into your bones. Euijoo eventually pulled out as slowly as he could, peppering your face with soft kisses as he did, fingers combing through your hair in soothing strokes.
“Hmm Euijoo…” You hummed sleepily, opening your eyes only a slight crack.
“Yes, love?”
“I think….” You giggled tiredly, wrapping your arms around him, “I don't like Yixiang any more.”
“Oh?” Euijoo fought his smile back, tucking your head under his chin as he rolled onto his side, keeping you firmly tucked against his chest, “Then who do you like baby?”
Your breathing evened out, growing slow and steady. Euijoo watched as your lashes fluttered closed, a look of pure adoration on his face.
“I think I like you…” You mumbled, “I think I really really like you.” You giggled drunkenly again, “Is that stupid Ju?”
For a moment, Euijoo didn’t breathe. The words were quiet, slurred with sleep, barely more than a murmur but they settled into him like something sacred, like something that had been waiting patiently for a place to land.
I think I really, really like you
His chest tightened first, sharp, almost startling before it gave way to something warmer. It spread slowly, blooming beneath his ribs, petal by petal, until it filled him completely. Achingly, impossibly full.
He looked down at you, half-curled against him, your face relaxed in sleep, lashes resting gently against your cheeks. You had no idea what you’d just done to him, no idea how those few drowsy words had unraveled something deep inside his chest.
“No my love, it’s not stupid.” He hummed, thumb brushing absent circles against your arm as if to pull himself to earth, “It’s not stupid at all.” Euijoo swallowed, his hold on you tightening instinctively, like some small, instinctive part of him was afraid you might slip away if he didn’t, “I really really like you too.”
“Mmmh good.” You mumbled before giving in to your sleep, your breathing becoming more shallow as you drifted off to sleep.
“You have no idea, do you?” Euijoo murmured under his breath, voice so soft it barely existed. His lips pressed gently to your hair again, lingering this time.
"I love you," he whispered, voice hoarse with emotion. "So fucking much." Carefully, like you were something fragile, he pulled you closer and for once, he let himself feel it fully. As the last rays of sun faded from the sky, Euijoo followed you into a peaceful slumber.
Byun Euijoo was a man of many talents.
Getting his girl was now officially one of them.
fin.
A/N: gang im not lying i legit came writing this fic UGH BYUN EUIJOO MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN if yall know anything about me you guys know i am no 1 cheater BUT I HAVE LEGIT NEVER CHEATED ON THIS MAN WITH ANYBODY ELSE IN &TEAM like that's the power he holds over me. anyways im gonna go stare at his concept photos now bye
inspired by a nico fic i read once and also the spicy dream i had about fuma but was unfortunately woken up from it too soon and cockblocked by my brain so im writing it myself
a post-party cruise turns into fuma folding you in his car.
tags: smut, bestfriend!fuma, female!reader, light alcohol usage (everyone is sober while driving & fucking), car sex, pet names, dirty talk, fingering, oral (m), piv, cum eating, coming inside, unprotected sex, calls him daddy once, some rough sex, k and yuma cameo, fuma is a little jealous and possessive ooooop
wc: 3.4k
disclaimer: all of my works are purely fiction and do not represent the members in any way
“Fumaaa,” you whined, leaning on the front doorframe as you waited for your best friend to finish getting ready, “we’re going to be late if you don’t hurry the fuck up!”
He let out a chuckle. “Relax,” he cooed, slipping on his shoes while simultaneously pulling on his suit jacket, “we’ll be fine.”
You pouted, arms crossed. “You know I hate being late.”
He smirked, patting the top of your head carefully so as to not mess up your updo while he stepped past you out of the apartment. “I promise we won’t be.”
Fuma had always been heavy footed and a risky driver, and usually it pissed you off and made you extremely anxious, but for some reason this time, it made him look really sexy to you. You swore silently to yourself, wondering why you were suddenly thinking that way about your best friend of ten years.
It’s not that you never have, per say, but you hadn’t since you got over your little crush on him when you were fifteen. Or at least, from what you could recall, you hadn’t experienced that for a long time.
Fuma was silent, lips straight, eyes focused on the road in front of him as you snuck glances at him through your peripheral vision. You kept taking notice of his prominent, veiny hands on the wheel, observing how they flexed each time he gripped it harder to make a turn. He smirked, sensing you were watching him, but you didn’t notice. The engine’s roar contracted and relaxed cyclically, the low hum nearly matching the bass of the faint music playing over the radio in the background. Fuma began to tap the steering wheel along to the beat and you swallowed hard. You started imagining it was your clit instead. With your cheeks hot and heat rising to your stomach, you realized the night was probably going to be a lot harder to get through than you originally thought, because of “unforeseen circumstances”. Now, you were insanely horny, and you didn’t know what to do about it.
Fuck my life, you sighed to yourself.
Unbeknownst to you, Fuma knew. You basically reeked of sexual tension, the air becoming thicker by the second. He chuckled silently to himself, already knowing damn well he was open to helping you get off– you just had to be into it, too.
“We’re here.” Fuma’s voice brought you out of your head, him putting the car in park as you looked outside of the passenger seat window and saw the restaurant beside you. It was 6 PM on the dot, just as the reservation was set for. “Told you we’d be fine.” He stuck out his tongue playfully.
You rolled your eyes, jokingly slapping his shoulder as you undid your seatbelt and got out of the car. Fuma followed closely behind you, his hand just barely grazing the small of your back as he held open the door for you and gently guided you through the entrance of the restaurant. You gulped, skin tingling right where his touch lingered.
It didn’t take long for you to notice K and Yuma in the corner of the dining area, their faces lighting up as they saw you and Fuma walk in. They waved, wide grins plastered on their faces.
The four of you met in your dance club during college, effortlessly becoming a group of friends that were attached to the hip and inseparable; until you become working adults, that is. Now, it was only an occasional meet up a few times a year, usually on birthdays, which is what this night was.
“Happy birthday, Yuma!” You smiled, pulling him in for a hug as you took the seat beside him. Fuma sat across from you next to K. “It’s been a while, how are you?”
“I’m great, actually,” he grinned, holding up a glass that looked to be filled with an old-fashioned whiskey on the rocks.
You chuckled, reminiscing on the memories of him being the biggest partier out of you four. “Glad to hear that.”
K and Fuma started their own conversation about something as you continued chatting with Yuma, everyone ordering their food and drinks throughout the discourse.
At some point, you were leaning in a little too closely to Yuma for Fuma’s comfort, his jaw noticeably tightening as he watched you two laugh at each other’s jokes and touch each other’s shoulders.
He saw the look in Yuma’s eyes, one that only pissed him off further as he continued observing your interaction. He was good at reading others. He knew Yuma wanted you and he hated it.
Don’t look at her like that, he seethed silently.
“Hey,” K whispered, tapping Fuma’s arm as he flickered his eyes between him and Yuma, sensing the apprehension, “what’s up with you?” Fuma broke his glance away from you and Yuma to turn to K. “You look like you want to murder someone.”
Fuma cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to release the tension. “I’m fine,” he lied, “it’s just been a long work week, so I’m a bit burnt out.”
“Uh huh,” K squinted his eyes, not convinced by his words at all.
Fuma did a good job at hiding his annoyance for the majority of the evening, at least from you and Yuma. K, on the other hand, sensed something was up and that it clearly had something to do with you.
“I’m going to run to the bathroom, be right back,” you announced, excusing yourself from the table.
The atmosphere felt heavy once it was just the three guys left alone, at least in Fuma’s eyes.
Yuma leaned forward and rested his elbows onto the table, chin in his palms as he glanced between Fuma and K. He smiled. “I think I’m going to ask Y/n out.”
Fuma nearly choked on his martini, K smacking his back a few times to help him out. Yuma just blinked, expression unchanging.
“Since when did you start liking her?” K asked, now understanding where Fuma’s earlier hostility was stemming from beyond his own jealousy. He figured if Fuma wasn’t going to open up about it himself, he’d have to pull it out of him some other way. He had been friends with both of them long enough to know what they were feeling without needing to say a word.
“For a few months now,” Yuma blushed. “After K’s birthday, I just felt like something…. shifted.”
What happened that night that I don’t know about? Fuma thought to himself. Does K know? He wanted to throw up. He felt conflicted and irritated; you weren’t his, so you and Yuma had every right to date if that’s what you both wanted, but fuck, he didn’t want you to want that. He wanted you to want him, your best friend.
Yuma opened his mouth to say more, but quickly shut it once he saw you were approaching the table again. He leaned back in his seat, then stood up right before you arrived. “I’m running to the bathroom, too.”
Fuma launched himself out of the chair once Yuma was a few steps away, K grabbing his wrist aggressively so as to not make it obvious. He glared at him.
“What are you doing?” K mouthed.
Fuma simply removed K’s hand from him, ignoring the question, before following behind Yuma. K sighed, slumping back into the chair as you sat down.
“What are they, school girls going to the bathroom together?” You joked, reaching for your water.
K laughed, attempting to hide his nervousness. “Yeah.” He just hoped Fuma wouldn’t try to fight him in there and cause a scene.
Fuma had great self control, but K felt unsettled by this situation. For once, he wasn’t so sure he’d stand down. He’d never seen him this jealous before; if looks could kill, Yuma would have already been in his grave twenty minutes prior.
Fuma was leaning against the wall beside the sink, watching Yuma as he exited the stall. Yuma eyed him, a look of confusion resting on his face.
“What?” He asked, pumping the soap bottle into his hands. “Why are you staring at me?”
“What happened that night?” Fuma blurted out abruptly.
Yuma grabbed a paper towel to dry his hands. “What are you talking about?”
“The night of K’s party.”
“Why?” Yuma smirked. “You jealous?”
Fuma swallowed. “No.” Yes.
Yuma chuckled, reaching up to pat his shoulder. “Relax,” he said, “nothing crazy.”
Fuma clenched his jaw. “I don’t believe you.”
Yuma laughed louder, a sudden darkness falling over him. “It’s none of your business,” he pressed a bit further, “but, I will say that she was great.”
“What–” Fuma gritted his teeth, stepping closer to him, but he was already out the door. He sighed, head dropping back onto the wall as he squeezed his eyes shut attempting to get rid of the image of you and Yuma doing ungodly things to each other.
Everyone felt it, the tension, when the four of you were back at the table together. You all tried to steer the conversation in a lighthearted direction, but it didn’t work out all too well; the goodbyes were awkward.
Fuma was silent on the drive home, but not in the usual way of him just being focused on the road. Something was clearly bothering him.
“Hey,” you started gently. “Did something happen back there?” He didn’t look at you. “After you and Yuma came back from the bathroom, things seemed... off.”
You looked at him, watching as his jaw tightened, making it very clear something had indeed gone down at the restaurant.
“Fuma,” you frowned, “what’s going on?”
He sighed, gripping the steering wheel hard. “What happened the night of K’s party?” He asked suddenly. You tilted your head at him quizzically. “You know,” he bit his lip, “between you and Yuma.”
Your lips formed an O, surprised by his question. You and Yuma had made a deal not to mention it to anyone, but the fact Fuma knew something happened means Yuma must have opened his mouth. You let out a shaky huff. “We, um,” you started, fingers fidling in your lap, “we kind of got a little too drunk and fucked.”
You watched Fuma’s throat as he swallowed, a lump of nerves clearly forming. “I see.” He said stiffly. So, that’s why you two disappeared for an hour that night, he scoffed quietly.
You could sense he was aggravated.
“Was it good?” You turned abruptly to face him, shocked he asked you that. He had never done so before when it came to your sexual experiences; he never seemed to care about knowing.
“What? Why are you–”
“Was it good?”
You gulped at his sudden change in tone, clenching around nothing as the atmosphere quickly dropped into something heavy and possessive.
You hesitated. “I–It was fine.”
He let out a hmph, foot pressing down on the gas a bit more as he drove past the exit to your apartment complex. You didn’t say anything, just staring blankly at him as he continued driving. Your stomach was churning, heart slamming violently against your ribcage as you observed him. His jaw was still clenched, but his hands seemed to loosen a bit on the wheel. Before you could process it, his hand had slipped over to you and gripped just above your knee. You inhaled sharply, blood rushing to your core. Fuck, you cursed silently, not now.
“I can fuck you better than him.”
You were taken aback by Fuma’s words, pulse quickening. You couldn’t speak.
Fuma noticed that you couldn’t sit still, breaking out into an almost sinister smile. “What are you squirming for?” He cooed, already knowing the answer. He wanted to push your buttons. “Does my hand on your thigh make you wet?”
You coughed, choking on nothing but the lust-filled air. “F–Fuma,” you almost whimpered, leg jolting as he squeezed it harshly.
He chuckled, removing his hand a second later. You felt disappointed when his touch left you. From the sideview, you noticed he had started unbuttoning his pants, his growing bulge in his boxers begging to break free. You inhaled sharply, unable to take your eyes off of it.
Fuma could almost read your mind. “You can touch me, you know,” he taunted, low and sultry.
You could feel your panties were already soaked and leaking through the skirt of your dress. “I– um– well,” you stuttered, “hold on.” You tried to catch your breath, and he didn’t say anything else as he just waited patiently for you to decide what to do. “You’re my best friend, I can’t– fuck.”
“Y/n,” the way he said your name made you feel insane, “do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you? How fucking bad I wished I could be inside of you?”
You were at a loss for words. Never in a million years did you expect to hear your best friend confess how badly they wanted to fuck you. You opened your mouth to respond, but your mind was going crazy, body vibrating with need for him. Fuck, maybe you never actually moved on when you were fifteen and just convinced yourself you had. You took a deep breath, trying to relax and focus on the moment. It was clear you both wanted each other, and those feelings weren’t going away any time soon. At this point, there was no turning back– you could worry about the effects on your friendship later.
“Fuma,” you said, voice dropping into a near whisper as you allowed yourself to actually feel how bad you needed him. “Take it out.”
He hesitated for a moment, a bit surprised that you actually felt the same. He genuinely thought you would turn him down. He slowly lowered his hand to his waistband, sliding it down into his boxers as he pulled out his cock, already hard and dripping with precum. You couldn’t help but groan at the sight of it, so big and desperate for your mouth to be wrapped around it.
“Keep fucking driving,” you demanded, lowering your lips onto him. He gasped, foot pressing the gas a little too hard in response, the car jerking aggressively for a moment.
You kept working on him, sucking and flicking the tip as your tongue swirled around his veiny length. He choked out a moan, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other grabbed your head and pushed you down further onto his cock. You gagged as he hit the back of your throat, smiling from the exhilaration. You hummed, and his hips jolted upwards.
“S–Shit,” he groaned, trying to stay focused on driving. His eyes were fighting to flutter shut, but he managed to keep them open. “I’m going to fucking come down your pretty little throat.”
And he did, spurting his seed between your lips as you swallowed him whole and sucked him dry. He sent short thrusts into your mouth as he cried, riding out his high, and you released him with a pop, lifting your head to place a kiss on his cheek, then neck.
He couldn’t take it anymore, opting to pull off onto the side of the road to break your back in his car. Impatiently, he unclipped your seatbelt as soon as he put the car in park, pawing at your waist hastily to pull you onto his lap. You obliged, lifting your legs over him to straddle him while he pushed his seat back as far as it could go.
“Fuck, I need you so bad,” he groaned, throwing his head back against the headrest while he allowed his hands to explore your body, both outside of and beneath your dress. He slipped his fingers under your panties without warning, coating them with your slick. “Oh my fucking god,” he almost laughed at how good you felt on his fingers, and at the fact he was actually about to fuck the girl he’d been crushing on since they were teenagers. It almost seemed ridiculous, like a prank. A dream. “You’re soaked, I’m literally about to go insane.”
You giggled, leaning over to feather kisses all over his face, eventually landing on his lips as you darted your tongue between his teeth and down his throat. He worked on your clit faster, your hips involuntarily grinding into his hand as you sucked on his tongue and bit his lower lip. Your eyes rolled back as he pressed his fingers into you harder, your back arching from the pleasure.
“Fuck,” you muttered against his lips, “make me come, Fuma.” He moaned into your mouth, the sounds of your whines driving him to circle your sensitive nub as fast as he could, pushing you over the edge. “Oh fuck, oh fuck!”
Fuma chuckled in elation at the feeling of your cum coating his fingers, him happily putting them into his mouth to lick all of you clean. He couldn’t hold out much longer, cock twitching below you just begging to be inside.
You noticed and smirked. “Go ahead,” you taunted, “fuck me.”
“I have a condom, do you want–” he paused, eyeing you to see where your head was at.
“Fuck me raw, Fuma.”
He growled at your begging, one hand grabbing your thigh strongly to keep you steady, the other pushing your panties aside so he could finally access your dripping cunt with his cock. “I swear to fucking God if you keep talking to me like that I’ll fuck you into next week.” You lowered yourself onto him before he had the chance to do it himself, him choking from the sudden sensation as you enveloped all of him with your walls.
“Please,” you moaned, sliding along his shaft slowly and deliberately, “please break me.”
Fuma didn’t need to be asked twice. He started to piston into you fervently, his tip hitting every pleasure point imaginable. You began falling backwards, one of his hands reaching behind your back to catch you before you hit the horn and let the whole neighbourhood know what you two were doing in the car.
“Jesus fucking–,” Fuma grunted, broken rasps and ragged breaths dripping from his lips, “you feel so fucking perfect around me.”
“Fuck me harder, daddy.”
He lost it.
You both succumbed to each other’s bodies, screams and cries of pleasure echoing throughout the car as the windows fogged up like frost. You were tugging at his hair, head loose and thrashing around with your body as you let yourself fall apart from your best friend’s perfect cock inside of you. He gripped your chin harshly, shoving his thumb into your mouth.
“Please let me fill you up,” he begged, voice stuttering as he gritted his teeth. He couldn’t get enough of you, especially with the way you were sucking on his finger. “Need to cum in this perfect pussy.” You could feel yourself about to reach your peak again. “You’re so fucking good to me.”
“Come in me, baby,” you cried, wrapping your arms around him as hard as you could, “let me have all of you.”
He choked, ungodly sounds falling from his mouth as he released into you, hot white ropes filling up your sensitive cunt. You allowed yourself to go over the edge with him, your juices mixing with his cum as you both whimpered over the feeling of each other, so tightly woven together; it was as if you were made for each other. His thrusts began to slow, hips sputtering and smacking sloppily against your skin as he came down, helping your ride out your high simultaneously.
You could still feel the intensity of the rush as you allowed yourself to drop into him, ragged breaths leaving your throats as you both tried to breathe normally again. After a few minutes, you backed your head away from his neck to look him in the eyes.
He was so fucking beautiful, so perfect. You definitely weren’t over your crush.
“I’ve been in love with you since we were fifteen,” you blurted out. “I never stopped.”
His face went from confusion to surprise before softening into a smile, so full of affection and gratitude. It was clear your desire for each other reached far beyond lust. He kissed your lips gently, arms running along your spine comfortingly. He then pressed a kiss onto the tip of your nose. “Glad to know I wasn’t the only one.”
tag list: @nichozzystuffs @yuversi @minhosimthings
✐ᝰ word count: 10.9k
✐ᝰ genre: fantasy, romance, slow burn, action, werewolf!jo, siren!oc, mythic worldbuilding
✐ᝰ warnings: mild violence, mentions of blood/injury, near-drowning, fantasy war themes, cursing, the rest of the &team members make an appearance, Nicholas is kinda mean
✐ᝰ author's note: introducing something i've been brewing for abit! here's part 1 of the veilbourne saga — each story can be read standalone, but reading in order definitely helps build the lore <3 slow burn, lore-heavy, and a little bit feral. feedback + theories always welcome! enjoy!!
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ links to other parts of the veilbourne saga: part 2 (nicholas) | part 3 (k) | part 4 (euijoo) | part 5 (harua) part 6 (yuma) | part 7 (taki) | part 8 (maki)
The night air was heavy with salt and cold, carrying the scent of the tide and something unfamiliar that made Jo’s ears twitch. His paws made no sound on the damp earth as he moved along the edge of his pack’s territory. Normally, the patrols were routine, boring, uneventful — but tonight, something felt off.
A faint shimmer caught his eyes near the water’s edge. Moonlight danced across the surface, glinting off something that didn’t belong. He froze, ears flicking, muscles recoiling.
There she was.
Half-submerged, her raven hair floating across the water, chest rising in uneven breaths.
A human?
It was laughable really, as much as everyone liked to say magical beings and humans could coexist peacefully, it just wasn’t true. And for some human to even think step into the borders of a pack’s camp was downright insane.
Jo inched closer. Her skin… it glimmered faintly, iridescent, almost ethereal. She wasn’t human. But still insane. Insane enough to walk straight into a wolf’s den. That much he could tell instinctively.
She noticed him at the same time, eyes widening in alarm. An immediate hiss, low and defiant escaped her lips. That’s when he noticed the blood.
She was in pain. Immense pain at that. The crimson blood blending in with the tranquility of the waters she was in. Across her shoulders were multiple gashes, blisters slowly forming on her arms and Jo swore only frost giants had lips that pale but he decided he was proven wrong today.
“Who are you?” He said, voice low.
She flinched but didn’t answer, tensing as if ready to strike. Her tail—or what he assumed was a tail— swished in agitation, water splashing against the rocks. He caught a flicker of claws—or fins?—shining beneath the surface. Jo’s instincts screamed that she was dangerous, unpredictable.
Yet, despite the warning bells in his mind, he felt drawn. Something in her wary defiance, in the sharp intelligence behind her eyes, pulled at him. He crouched slightly, leaning back into his hind legs, silent, letting her see he wasn’t an immediate threat.
First mistake.
The creature lashes out, a reflexive swipe that caught his arm. Another swipe that he barely managed to twist aside, avoiding her.
“Careful,” he muttered, but his tone was steady, not angry. “I’m not your enemy.”
Second mistake.
She glared at him, teeth bared — not in a smile, but in a warning. Water dripped from her hair as she rose slightly her gaze sharp. Jo noticed more injuries then. The bruises along her shoulders, the shallow cut on her side. No human could’ve caused that.
His mind started feeling a little buzzed, like he just downed a couple of beers. He gravitated towards her slowly and the back of his canine brain, he hears her humming a song. Or whatever it was, it was heavenly. She was heavenly, despite looking fresh out of a brutal fight.
He stepped closer, slowly, deliberately, trying to shake off the drunk feeling. Seriously, what is that?
Letting his presence calm her without breaking her space. “You’re hurt,” he said quietly. “You need help.”
Third mistake.
A split second of looking into her eyes sends a shock down Jo’s spine.
Siren.
His mind buzzed. Light, unfocused.
Her humming swelled, soft and dangerous.
Beautiful. Too beautiful.
Fuck, am I seriously going to die here?
“You need help.” He tries again, sounding more helpless than before.
For a moment, she hesitated, as if weighing the truth in his words against her survival instinct. And his head felt lighter all of a sudden, as if he was knocked out of the trance. Then, with a wary glance toward the forest behind him, she sank back slightly into the water, almost imperceptibly, conceding a fragile truce.
Jo’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t leave her there—not like this. Not in his territory. After all, that’s what the patrols were for.
“I’ll take you back to my pack,” Carefully, he extended his arm. “Safe. No one will hurt you there.” He promised.
Her eyes juggled between him, the water and back to him again. There was defiance, yes, but also something… a flicker of trust.
“Fine,” she murmured, almost reluctantly.
Jo allowed himself a small, controlled exhale.
The den stirred the moment Jo stepped into the clearing. His arms ached from carrying her, but he ignored it, pushing through the tense stares that followed him.
Wolves stirred from their dens, some already baring their teeth.
Murmurs rose like a storm.
“Is that a siren?”
“What the hell was he thinking bringing her here?”
“She’ll kill us in our sleep—just wait.”
Her hair, still dripping with seawater, clung to her pale face. She looked half-dead, yet her eyes never stopped flicking from shadow to shadow, sharp, calculating.
Nicholas was the first to step forward, jaw tight, eyes dark.
“You’ve lost your fucking mind Jo,” He spat, circling like he was already preparing to strike. “Bringing that into our camp? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“She’s hurt,” Jo shot back, voice low but firm. “She won’t make it through the night out there.”
Nicholas sneered. “Good. Let the sea finish what it started.” His gaze slid to her, dripping with venom. “She doesn’t belong here.”
Harua cut in, pushing past Nicholas. His hands hovered over her wounds, healer’s instincts kicking in. “She’s burned. Frostbite too. These are fatal if untreated.” He looked at Jo, then at the alpha’s den. “She needs care.”
The tension broke as Euijoo emerged from the shadows. His presence silenced the whispers instantly. The alpha’s gaze was heavy, unreadable as it lingered on the siren in Jo’s arms.
“Explain.”
Jo tightened his grip unconsciously, barely meeting his leader’s eyes. “I found her on the border. Injured. She wasn’t attacking — she was barely breathing. I couldn’t leave her.”
“And the claw marks on your arm?”
Right. She technically did attack him.
Euijoo’s expression didn’t change as he continue, “You thought it wise to bring a siren into our den?”
Dozens of eyes burned into Jo’s back, their silence louder than any growl.
Jo’s throat worked, but he didn’t look away. “She’ll stay. Just until she’s healed enough to return to the waters.”
Before Euijoo could respond, Nicholas stepped forward, growl rumbling low in his chest. “No. She doesn’t get to stay at all.” His fists clenched. “We know what they are. Liars. Manipulators. Killers. You’re letting her put every single one of us at risk!”
The siren stirred at his words, her lips pulling back in the faintest hiss, “Oh boohoo. Mister big bad wolf trembling at the sight of a siren.” She mumbled but Nicholas noticed it instantly. His temper snapped.
“The mouth on this one—“
He lunged before anyone could stop him.
Jo shifted immediately, dropping the girl behind him as he intercepted Nicholas. Claws scraped across dirt as the two collided.
Even half-dead, she still had fight in her. Jo didn’t know if it made her reckless or brave—or both.
“Enough!” Jo snarled, shoving him back. “She’s injured, Nicholas!”
Nicholas’ eyes blazed. “That’s when they’re the most dangerous! You know this Jo.” His voice rose, sharp with hatred. “Or are you so bewitched you can’t even see it?”
Behind Jo, the siren pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, blood still trickling down her arms. She didn’t speak—she didn’t need to. With a sudden flick of her wrist, the air vibrated. A sharp, piercing note cut through the clearing, not loud enough to enthrall, but enough to make Nicholas stumble, covering his ears with a snarl.
In an instant, Jo was back at her side, bracing her before she could collapse again.
Nicholas lunged once more, eyes blazing with fury. But this time, Euijoo’s voice cracked through the camp like thunder.
“Stand down.”
The weight of the alpha’s command froze them all. Even Nicholas, panting with rage, stopped mid-step. Jo felt his chest tighten. If Euijoo casts her out now, she wouldn’t last an hour out there. But if she stayed… the whole pack could turn on him.
Euijoo’s gaze swept over the girl who was growing paler by the minute, then to Jo, then back to Nicholas. His voice was steady, final.
“She stays. One night.”
“She can barely breathe—“
“Are you kidding? We’ve lost enough to her kind—” Jo and Nicholas’ voices overlapped.
“One. Night.” Euijoo’s tone cuts them both down. He turned on his heel. “Haura, treat her.”
Jo exhaled slowly, tension leaving his shoulders.
“And Jo?” Euijoo called without looking back. “You’re responsible for her. If anything happens to her, and gods forbid anything happens to anyone in my pack, it is your head I’m coming for.”
He bowed his head in acknowledgement.
Nicholas’ lips curled back in a snarl- the siren couldn’t help but wonder if his face was just permanently like that—but he didn’t argue again. Instead, he spat on the ground and stalked into his den.
The siren’s eyes flicked up at Jo, her expression a mixture of exhaustion and anger. And maybe, just maybe, a flicker of trust.
The dawn bled gold through the trees, spilling into the den. The wolves stirred restlessly, though no one lingered too close to the small chamber where the siren lay.
Harua crouched beside her again, holding a clay bowl of something orange and steaming. “Drink.” He ordered, pressing it into her hands.
She sniffed it and wrinkled her nose. “That smells like death.”
“You’re going to be closer to death if you don’t drink this. It’ll stop the burns from festering.” Harua said simply, waiting.
She glared but sipped anyway, grimacing. The colour in her cheeks was brighter than when Jo found her, her indigo scales glistening slightly more than before, though her eyes still carried exhaustion.
In the common room, Yuma leaned lazily against the wall, voice carrying as he spoke. “They say the tides near the coast are boiling. Whole fishing villages abandoning their boats. Leviathan rising up again.” His eyes gleamed with mischief. “Sounds like the start of one of those old myths.”
The siren’s voice cut sharp through the air, stronger than it had been since she arrived. “It’s not a myth. The Shattersea War has begun.”
Every head turned.
Jo froze where he stood. Fuma’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes sharpened. Nicholas gave a short, humorless laugh, “Of course. Trust a siren to drag war to our doorstep.”
The siren ignored him, eyes fixed on the wolves around her. “The Leviathans want dominion over all waters. We sang them back into the depths for centuries, but they’ve grown restless. They struck first. My pod…” Her voice cracked slightly, but she forced it steady. “They didn’t survive.”
The room went still. Even Yuma lost his easy grin.
Jo felt the words cut through him, but before he could speak, Nicholas stepped forward, sneering. “So what now? You expect us to pity you? To hide you while your kind calls monsters to our shores?”
Her eyes narrowed, a flash of steel. “I didn’t come to beg wolves for pity.”
In a heartbeat, Jo was between them, his stance low, protective. “Enough,” he growled, voice rougher than he meant.
Nicholas’ gaze flicked to Jo’s shoulder brushing hers, the instinctive way Jo shielded her without thought, the way Jo’s paws brushed her scaly claws just slightly. His eyes lingered.
“Interesting.” Nicholas muttered, before storming out.
Silence hung heavy until Fuma broke it, turning to Euijoo. “If the Shattersea War has begun, keeping her here may be dangerous… but sending her back could be worse.”
Euijoo’s jaw clenched, He looked at the siren, then at Jo, who hadn’t moved an inch from her side.
“She stays another night,” the alpha decided. “Then we’ll see.”
“What? The siren?”
“You said the siren was only going to be here one night—“
“Euijoo, we’re talking about a siren—“
“She doesn’t belong here, she could lure anyone into the sea!”
The pack didn’t bother to hide their whispers.
Every murmur, every use of that word, pricked at her. Her fingers flexed against the fur makeshift bed Jo had made for her, the faint hum of irritation vibrating in her throat.
“Siren.” She pushed herself upright, voice sharp and cutting, startling the pack into silence. “You keep saying it as if I’m a threat, as if I’m some monster you need to fear.” She shoved herself fully onto her feet, shoulders squared, News flash: I’m the one who got attacked trying to protect my pod. And I have a name.”
All eyes shifted to her. Even Jo, though he had been near enough to hear her voice bubbling quietly, froze, pulse hitching.
“Syrena,” She said, voice firm, carrying over the murmurs. “Not ‘the siren.’ Syrena.”
“Of course, Syrena.” The alpha breaks the silence. He nods briefly in acknowledgement, “You can stay one more night. And I’m sure you understand when I say: I’m just looking out for the safety of my pack.”
Jo, already standing beside her, took a careful step closer. “Syrena,” he repeated quietly, testing the word on his tongue. There was something satisfying in saying it aloud, something grounding, refreshing even.
“Yes. Syrena,’ She confirmed, eyes softening for just a fraction of a second. The faintest hint of relief tugged at her features — finally recognised, finally seen.
The others—Taki, Maki and K— exchanged uncertain glances, slowly beginning to adjust to the idea of calling her by name.
Jo stayed close, but the weight of the pack’s tension pressed against him. Before he could settle his thoughts, Fuma appeared next to him, voice low.
“Jo. A word.”
Jo’s stomach twisted. He glanced at Syrena, whose eyes flickered toward him, sharp and questioning. He didn’t even notice that Syrena had interlaced their fingers together in the commotion.
There’s no way his brother in arms would shred her to pieces while he steps out for a little right?
“I got her. Go.” Harua says simply, wrapping seaweed against the siren—Syrena’s arms.
Jo gave her a slight nod, promising he’d return, and followed Fuma into the morning mist.
Fuma stopped several paces away, folding his arms, his dirty blonde hair looking eerily similar to the golden rays of sunshine peaking through the trees. “I’ve been watching. Since you carried her into camp, you’ve been… different.”
Jo tensed. “She’s injured. I’m keeping her safe. That’s all.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Fuma turned, eyes sharp but not unkind. “You stand like a shield. You hover as though the moment you blink, she’ll vanish. That isn’t duty, Jo. That’s instinct.”
Jo opened his mouth, closed it. His pulse pounded in his ears. “She’s a siren.”
Yeah right, as if that changed anything.
“Yes.” The beta tilted his head slightly. “And yet.”
“I think,” Fuma interrupted gently, “that the bond between wolf and mate is not something you can ignore forever. Whether you admit it or not, your body already knows.”
Jo dragged a hand through his hair, placing a short line across the forest floor. “That can’t be. Not with her. She’s a siren.”
“Instinct doesn’t care for reason,” Fuma said, “But Jo… if it’s true, it will divide the pack. Even now, with half the pack glaring daggers at her—your instincts don’t lie. You need to think about what that means. Nico already feels the tension. And you know he’ll only push harder.”
Jo pressed his lips together, chest tight. He could still feel the faint weight of her in his arms from last night, the way her voice cut like silver when she hissed back at Nicholas. Fragile, curious and stubbornly alive.
Thinking back about it now, Fuma was right. If it were anyone else, Jo figured he wouldn’t think twice, not allowing anything near his pack’s borders. He valued their safety over anything else, his brothers.
Fuma laid a hand on his shoulder, steady. “You need to decide how far you’re willing to go for her.”
The beta glanced at the alpha’s den once, and it’s enough for Jo to understand.
“Before Euijoo decides for you.”
Jo nodded slowly, tension coiling in his chest watching Fuma melt away into the morning mist. Jo exhaled sharply, rubbing at his temple before turning back toward the den. Syrena was still sitting there, furs wrapped loosely around her, eyes flicking between the wolves and the clearing beyond.
He approached carefully, trying not to look too tense. “You… don’t have to worry about them right now,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Syrena’s violet eyes lifted to him, narrowing slightly. “I’ve been fine without a pack watching my every move.” The way she puts pressure on the word ‘pack’ makes him flinch slightly, her tone sharp but not unkind. “Don’t start hovering.”
“I’m not hovering,” he insists almost sounding like a child whining, voice low, leaning against the doorway. “I’ll just…be nearby.”
Before they could settle, Taki and Maki padded into the clearing, ears perked, tails flicking. Their eyes widened at the sight of her.
“So siren…” Taki says slowly.
Syrena’s lips twitched in irritation.
Taki is quick to correct himself, “Oh… right. Sorry, Syrena.”
K finally emerged, moving silently as shadows, and observed her quietly. He didn’t say a word, eyes moving between Syrena and Jo, studying the way Jo stood protectively near her. The faintest crease fired between his brows neutral, but thoughtful.
Syrena, sensing the scrutiny, shifted slightly, standing taller. “You all look like you’re trying to decode if I’m going to eat you or not,” she said dryly. Jo’s chest tightened at the tension in her voice. Fuma has been right— his wolf knew before his mind did.
Taki and Maki exchanged uncertain glances, then nodded hesitantly, “Well Syrena…” Maki says her name like it left a foreign taste in his mouth, “Usually wolves are the ones who do the eating?” He tried for a joke to which Syrena returns with a soft giggle which she masks quickly by coughing.
Jo swore it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, his head snapping to look at her with a smile plastered on his face.
Harua, returning from tending to supplies, carried a small bowl with one of his gross concoctions. “Drink this,” he instructed, gently pressing it toward Syrena. “It’ll help with the burns and bruises.”
Syrena sniffed at it, eyes begging Jo for help, then back at the bowl like it personally offended her. “You wolves are obsessed with making me eat weird things,” she muttered, but took the bowl anyways.
“You’ll get used to it.” He said softly, his lips twitching.
Syrena raised an eyebrow. “I doubt it.”
“Want me to hold your hand while you drink it?”
“I’m not a child.”
He reached out stubbornly anyways, cocking his head when she hesitated. Eventually she reached just for his pinky, squeezing tighter when she savours the pungent taste of Harua’s medicine. “Gods, that’s nasty.”
The pack lingered in the clearing, some whispering quietly to each other, some openly watching her every move. Jo was the latter, shamelessly watching her, feeling giddy like Syrena was still bewitching him with her song. But this time, it felt natural. So natural. Too natural.
It was uneasy truce but for now, the morning passed without incident.
Even as the sun rose higher, Syrena’s eyes occasionally flicked towards the distant coastline, a subtle tension beneath her calm exterior. Jo noticed, and felt the faint pull of instinct, unacknowledged but undeniable.
The Shattersea War was beginning and with it, everything was about to change— for Syrena, for Jo, and for the entire pack.
The den was quiet now, the low murmur of the pack outside fading with each footstep that disappeared into the forest. Jo stayed close to Syrena crouching near the edge of her makeshift bed. He kept his hands to himself at first, pretending to examine the still-healing bruises along her shoulders.
Syrena tilted her head, violet eyes catching his yellow ones in the soft morning light. “I thought I told you not to hover.” She said, tone teasing, but not harsh. “I’m fine. You don’t need to…patrol my every breath.”
Jo’s fingers twitched over the fading marks on her skin. “I…I’m just making sure you’re okay,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze. But even as he said it, the back of his mind hummed with something he didn’t fully understand. Every instinct in his wolf stirred when he leaned a little closer, when his shoulder brushed against hers, subtle warmth thrumming beneath his skin.
“You act like I’m fragile or something. I’ve been through worse than this.” She flicked her hair back, revealing a faint scar along her collarbone, a memory of a battle fought long before she came here.
“I know,” Jo said, voice low. But the tightening in his chest betrayed him. “It’s… not that.”
A faint shift of energy, almost imperceptible, passed between them. His pulse thudded in rhythm with hers. Jo swallowed hard, realising just how sharply his wolf reacted to her presence, to the scent, to the sound of her breathing. His throat went dry.
This is… not normal.
Syrena leaned back slightly, resting her hands on the fur. “Well,” She said softly, eyes glimmering with amusement, “If you insist on hovering… I guess you can. But only if you really do insist.”
Jo’s lips twitched in a smile before he cleared his throat.
A sudden voice broke the moment. Yuma’s easy tone carried from the doorway, a grin plastered on his face. “Hear ye, hear ye. I bring magical gossip: I hear the tides are boiling again. Leviathans spotted near the northern reef. Must be the start of something big, huh?”
Syrena’s gaze sharpened instantly, “It’s not the start.,” She corrected, voice firm, each word measured. “The Shattersea War has already begun. The Leviathans attacked first.”
Yuma whistled low, eyes now pointed towards the floor, “Well, that escalated fast.”
“I don’t know why Euijoo is letting you linger here.” Nicholas appears from the shadows, his gaze fixed on Syrena, sharp and dangerous. “Do you think your presence won’t draw the Leviathans straight to our shores? Do you really think this pack will survive if they sense a siren on land?”
Jo’s hackles rose slightly, “Nico, back off.”
Nicholas ignored him, eyes rolling. “I don’t care about your feelings for her, Jo. I’m talking about survival. The surface and the underwater worlds have never fought directly… but with the tensions rising now, never say never. And you know this.”
Syrena’s violet eyes met his, unblinking, not an inch of fear in them, “Then you understand why I was attacked,” She said quietly. “This isn’t just about me. It’s war.”
A silence fell, thick and tense, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down on them all. Jo glanced at Syrena, at Nicholas, at Yuma who was trying—albeit, unsuccessfully—to lighten the mood.
Fuma’s earlier words echoed in his mind: Instinct doesn’t care for reason.
The air in the den thickened as Yuma’s probing shifted from the Leviathans to something sharper.
“You keep saying your pod was attacked,” One of his ears flopped down and one remained upright, “But I’ve heard whispers, even in our world . The Leviathans aren’t just picking fights at random. They’re targeting kingdoms. Thrones.”
Syrena’s breath caught. Jo noticed — the tiniest hitch in her throat, the way her fingers clenched the blanket tighter.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” she began carefully, eyes fixed on the brown muck that Harua made earlier for her, “But Leviathans don’t move without reason. They want power. Sirens… we have kingdoms beneath the waves. Unlike merfolk who rules the calm waters, sirens govern the deep. Where the currents are treacherous and power comes from voice and bloodline. Lines of succession. Crowns that matter. ”
Nicholas couldn’t help but bare his fangs, “And where do you fit into that picture?”
Silence stretched. The pack waited, every breath sharp with anticipation. Jo felt his heart proud, his wolf pressing against his chest like it already knew the answer. He was sure the rest of his pack, with their sharpened hearing, could hear it too.
Finally, Syrena exhaled, shoulders sinking as If the weight of the ocean itself sat on her back. “I am… or was… Princess of the Coral Spire. My family ruled the eastern waters for generations.” Her voice wavered. “They’re gone now. Every one of them slaughtered.”
Her voice cracked on the last word, the sound small and human in a way Jo had never heard from her before.
The room froze.
Jo couldn’t stay still. His wolf growled low, a warning he barely controlled. “You… You’re royalty,” he repeated. Voice rough.
Yuma muttered a low curse. Taki’s eyes widened, while K remained impassive, though the muscle in his jaw twitched. Nicholas’ face was carved from stone, though something flickered in his eyes—recognition, perhaps even fear.
And then Euijoo stepped in. The alpha’s presence filled the room like a storm rolling over the sea. “So the Leviathans aren’t just hunting sirens,” he said slowly, eyes narrowing on Syrena. “They’re hunting you.”
Her gazed flicked up , defiant despite the tremor in her voice. “I didn’t choose this. I didn’t ask to be born to a crown. But they won’t stop until I’m dead. And if they can’t find me… they’ll kill anyone who harbours me.”
That was the breaking point.
The alpha’s voice came out sharp, decisive, the tone that brooked no argument. “Then you cannot stay here.”
Jo’s chest constricted. “What?”
“By sundown, she leaves,” Euijoo continued, eyes never leaving Syrena. “I will not risk the safety of this pack, not for one outsider. Not when her presence paints a target on all of us.”
Jo stepped forward, “She’s not just some outsider—"
“Enough,” Euijoo snapped, silencing the room, “I’ve been kind enough Jo. She is to leave by sundown.”
The alpha turned to his pack, voice carrying the weight of command. “Maki, Taki, Yuma, K— you’ll scour the ridges and the forest lines. I want eyes everywhere by nightfall. Fuma, Jo and Harua, you’re with me— we need to fortify the eastern den. As for you—“ His gaze cut like ice towards Nicholas, “You’ll stay behind. Patrol the shore. Guard our main den.”
Nicholas bristled, hatred flashing in his eyes, “With all due respect, Alpha—"
Euijoo spared him a quick glance which made the wolf dip his head in reluctant obedience.
Jo’s throat tightened as he glanced at Syrena. Her face betrayed nothing, but her hands twisted in the blanket, and he could sense it—the sting beneath her calm. The rejection. The dismissal.
Euijoo’s voice softened slightly, though it still carried steel. “And you. You will leave before the moon rises, Syrena. For your safety… and for ours.”
The silence that followed was heavier than any roar. Syrena didn’t argue. She only looked at Jo, and that was enough to make the air hurt.
The pack dispersed, tension hanging like fog in the cavern. Jo stayed rooted in place, his wolf clawing at him, demanding he fight. Demanding he choose.
And Syrena, sitting small yet unyielding by the fire, met his gaze with quiet defiance.
Her eyes shimmered faintly under the low light, like deep-sea catching flame. Every instinct in him howled at the sight- don’t let her go. His chest tightened, the pull sharp, primal. He turned away before the sound escaped him.
Fuma lingered by the entrance, watching him. “You should breathe,” he murmured.
Jo’s hands flexed at his sides. “He can’t just send her off,” he said, too low, too rough. “She’s still healing. If the rival pods are hunting her—"
“Then Euijoo’s not wrong,” Fuma interrupted softly. “They’ll come for her. And when they do, they’ll find us standing in their way.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Jo’s voice broke through the air like a snarl. He caught himself immediately, shoulders tense. “She doesn’t have a home anymore. She won’t survive out there alone. Not like this.”
“Then what would you have him do?” Fuma’s eyes glinted — calm but heavy with meaning. “Keep her here? In our den? You know what that means, Jo.”
Jo didn’t answer. He just started into the fire. The light flickered across his face, revealing the faint tremor beneath his calm. Fuma sighed, stepping closer, lowering his voice.
“Your wolf is loud tonight,” he said. “Too loud to pretend.”
Jo shot him a warning look. “Don’t start.”
“Jo.”
The alpha’s tone. Commanding, sharp.
Jo swallowed, forcing his wolf down, and followed Euijoo into the adjoining chamber. The air was colder there, quieter. Euijoo stood with his back turned, staring out toward the forest through a narrow opening in the rock.
“You disagree with my decision.” It wasn’t a question.
Jo stayed silent.
Euijoo turned, gaze piercing. “You think I didn’t see the way you looked at her?”
“I’m just—"
“Protective,” Euijoo finished for him, stepping closer. “I’ve seen you protect pack mates. This is different.”
Jo’s jaw flexed. His wolf shifted beneath his skin, restless.
“Fuma tells me your instincts are acting up,” the alpha continued. “And now I understand why.”
Jo’s eyes flashed gold for a heartbeat. He forced them back. He can’t know yet.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then tell me what it is,” Euijoo challenged. “Because I’ve led this pack long enough to know when a wolf’s found his mate.”
The words hit like a blow. Jo’s breath caught, his pulse hammering in his throat.
Euijoo’s exhaled slowly, expression unreadable. “A siren, Jo? Of all creatures beneath the waves…”
“I didn’t choose this,” Jo growled. “You think I want it? You think I asked for it?”
Euijoo’s tone stayed firm. “No one ever does . But what we do choose is how we protect what’s ours.” He stepped closer, gaze heavy with the weight of command. “You’d risk the pack for her. I can see it in you.”
Jo’s silence was answer enough.
The alpha nodded once— a quiet verdict. “She leaves by sundown. That’s final.”
Jo’s wolf lunged inside him, clawing against his ribs, but he held still, knuckles white. “At least, don’t leave her with him.” His wolf reacted before he could, the hostility when he remembered Euijoo’s orders of wanting Nicholas to stay back with Syrena at the den. “Let me do it.”
“Question my orders one more time Jo,” Euijoo said firmly. “You’ll find yourself out of the pack with your mate.”
Jo wanted to argue, to tear the words apart— but one look at the alpha told him it would be useless. He bowed his head, the gesture stiff, restrained.
Euijoo’s voice softened just slightly. “Whatever bond your wolf feels? Control it. The pack’s safety comes first. Always.”
When Jo left the chamber, the firelight hit him again — warm and soft against the storm still raging in his chest.
Syrena was still by the fire, tracing faint shapes in the air with her fingers, her face lit by the glow. Nicholas leaned nearby, watching her with that sharp, wary edge that never quite left his eyes.
Jo’s wolf stirred again — that same relentless, instinctive pull toward her.
And he knew, as the sun began to set, that having her leave by sundown would destroy him long before it ever broke her.
By the time the camp settled, the morning light had deepened to gold. Most of the pack had drifted toward their assigned posts, their murmurs fading into the forest hum. Only Syrena remained near the dying fire, wrapping her few belongings into a tattered satchel.
Jo lingered by the entrance, arms crossed, heart unsteady. Every movement she made drew attention — not from curiosity, but because his instincts sparked at every flicker of her breath.
She winced, a quiet hiss slipping past her lips as she tried to lift a water flask. Before he could think, Jo was already at her side, taking it from her hands.
“I’ve got it,” he said softly.
She blinked, “What did I say about hovering, wolf?”
He hesitated, his hand still brushing hers. “Maybe I don’t have a choice.”
For a moment, neither spoke. The forest outside thrummed with cicadas, the silence between them sharp and delicate.
Syrena looked away first, her jaw tense. “Why do you care so much?” she asked, almost a whisper. “You should be glad I’m leaving. Less trouble for your pack.”
“It doesn’t feel that way,” he said, too quickly.
Her eyes flicked up, studying him. “You’re strange.”
“I get that a lot,” he said, smiling faintly.
Her lips twitched, returning the smile for a split second. But then her gaze dropped, distant. “The sea doesn’t forgive easily,” she murmured. “When the Shattersea War began, I thought I’d be the one to lead them home. I thought… if I sang loud enough, maybe they’d listen.” She trailed off, swallowing hard. “But the water only answered with silence.”
The sound of her voice only lingered, low and salt-bitten, like a tide retreating too soon.
Jo’s chest tightened. He wanted to reach out, to ease that ache in her voice, but something about her stillness warned him off. “You still hum when you sleep,” he said instead, quietly. “I can hear it from the next room.”
Her head snapped up, a flush gracing her cheeks. “That’s— it’s not meant for wolves to hear.”
“Maybe it was meant for me,” he said simply.
The air stilled. Something fragile and warm passed between them — unspoken, unacknowledged, but real.
Jo reached into his belt and pulled free a small pendant, carved from pale bone and tied with worn leather. “Here,” he said, holding it out to her. “For protection.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“It’s been passed down for generations in my family. It’s a little silly, but I like to think it keeps me safe.” He reached for the back of his head, scratching his neck.
“It’s not silly.” Syrena frowned, uncertain. “But you trust me with this?”
“You saved your pod,” he said. “You’ve earned it.”
Her fingers brushed his when she took it. The faint jolt of contact made his breath catch — the wolf inside him howled in recognition. He steadied himself. She noticed, gaze flicking briefly to his hand before looking away, pretending not to.
“I’ll make sure it’s returned,” she murmured.
“I’m not worried about that,” he said.
When he turned to leave, she caught him watching her once more. Her expression softened, almost imperceptibly. “Jo,” she said, voice low.
He paused.
“Thank you.”
He nodded once, unable to trust his voice.
He lingered a heartbeat longer, watching her fingers trace the pendant before turning away.
Outside, the others were already preparing for patrol. Euijoo stood by the treeline, issuing quiet orders.
Jo took his place beside Fuma, still feeling the ghost of her touch against his palm.
She was leaving by sundown.
He told himself that was for the best.
But his wolf — his damn wolf — didn’t believe it.
By late afternoon, the sky had turned the colour of old copper. The waves were restless, crashing harder than usual against the shore below the den, a low growl that matched the tension in the air.
Most of the pack was already gone—their howls distant echoes fading into the forest and ridge lines. Only the faintest scents of their trails lingered in the air. The silence they left behind felt too wide, too heavy.
Syrena sat near the mouth of the cave, the pendant Jo had given her now tied loosely around her wrist. The fire beside her was nothing more than embers now, glowing faintly against her pale skin. She stared at the horizon as if the sea might call her back—or come to claim her.
Nicholas stood a few paces behind, arms crossed, his gaze flicking between her and the water. He had been silent for most of the afternoon, his usual sharpness dulled into something unreadable.
“You don’t have to stare holes into my back,” Syrena murmured, without turning. “If you want to say something, say it.”
Nicholas exhaled through his nose. “I don’t trust you.”
“I gathered.”
“You’re dangerous,” he continued, stepping closer. “Not because of what you can do. Because of what follows you.”
She finally turned, meeting his glare with unnerving calm. “You think I don’t know that?”
His jaw tightened. “Then why stay here? Why let him—” he stopped himself, biting the word short.
Her brow arched. “Let him what?”
“Get attached.” The words left him like a growl. “You saw what this does to him. To his wolf. He can’t even look at you without fighting himself.”
Her lips parted slightly, as if the thought hadn’t fully formed until now. “That’s not my doing.”
Nicholas took another step forward. “Maybe not. But if the Leviathans are after you, they’ll come here. They’ll tear through this place to find you. And Jo—he’ll tear through us to protect you.”
Something in his tone — not quite hatred, not quite fear — made her glance back at the horizon again.
Nicholas was about to retort again when the air shifted.
A low rumble, almost imperceptible at first, rolled through the cave floor. The kind of vibration that came not from above — but below. From the sea.
Nicholas froze. His wolf senses sharpened instantly, nostrils flaring.
“You feel that?”
“Fuck.” Syrena’s expression darkened. “They’ve found me.”
Outside, the waves began to churn. Foam hissed up the rocks as the tide surged higher, unnatural in its rhythm. From the depths, something shimmered — faint lights, like will-o’-wisps flickering beneath the surface.
Nicholas swore under his breath, unsheathing the blade strapped to his thigh “How many?”
Syrena stood, her body already humming with the faint glow of siren power. “Three... maybe four scouts. But they’re not alone. They never are.”
“Jo should’ve been the one to stay,” Nicholas muttered, eyes scanning the shoreline.
Her gaze flicked toward him, unreadable. “No. You were right, Nicholas. You don’t trust me. You don’t have any reason to.”
The first shape broke the surface — a slick, scaled form, humanoid in silhouette but monstrous in motion. A Leviathan scout, eyes glowing faintly blue. Then another, and another, rising from the tide.
“Let me handle this.” Syrena braced herself, her hands curling.
Nicholas crouched low, growl tearing from his throat. “Get back.”
Syrena ignored him, stepping forward as her voice deepened, carrying a resonance that wasn’t human — ancient and commanding. The air vibrated, the water answering her call.
She whispered just loud enough for Nicholas to react just in time, “Back.”
The nearest Leviathan flinched, its glowing eyes dimming momentarily — but not retreating. It hissed, a shriek that split the air, and the next wave crashed with explosive force.
Nicholas was thrown back, barely catching his footing. “That’s your idea of warning?”
Syrena’s eyes burned violet. “That was mercy.”
And as the waves surged again, her song rose — not gentle this time, but furious, the sound of a storm breaking free.
The song tore through the cove — sharp, violent, heartbreakingly beautiful. Nicholas staggered against the stone wall, one hand pressed to his ear. The air itself seemed to warp under the siren’s voice, her power spilling like liquid silver across the ground.
Three Leviathans circled in the surf, their scaled forms glistening like oil. They hissed when she sang, recoiling — but each wave brought them closer.
Syrena’s chest rose and fell, her voice faltering for a heartbeat. She steadied herself, blood trickling from the corner of her lip. The song turned harsher, less melody now and more fury, a weapon aimed at the creatures clawing their way onto the rocks.
“You psycho siren,” Nicholas gritted his teeth. “You’ll draw the whole ocean down on us!” he growled, though she couldn’t hear him over the roar of the tide.
The first Leviathan lunged.
Nicholas moved before he thought — instincts older than logic taking over. He met it mid-surge, blade flashing, claws bursting through his knuckles. The creature’s hide was thick, scales like armor. He barely sank steel into it before it slammed him into the rock wall, his ribs cracking under the force.
He spat blood, rolling to his feet just as Syrena’s voice cut through the air again. The Leviathan jerked back — for half a second, its eyes went dull.
“Move!” she shouted, her voice trembling with the effort.
He didn’t need to be told twice. He ducked just as she lifted both hands, the sea behind her rising in a single, massive swell. The wave crashed down on the Leviathans with bone-breaking force, slamming them back into the surf.
But the victory was short-lived.
Syrena stumbled, her knees hitting the stone, a pained gasp tearing from her throat. Her gills flared weakly along her neck, struggling to draw breath in the dry air. The glow in her eyes flickered — once, twice — before dimming.
Nicholas saw it. Saw how she faltered. How the song, once earth-shattering, was now barely more than a broken hum.
And he did what wolves did best — he assessed.
One siren. Three Leviathans. A broken tide.
She wasn’t going to last.
He wanted to let her fall. Let the sea reclaim her and spare the pack the trouble. But then, in the haze of salt and blood, Jo’s face flashed in his mind. The way his voice had cracked when he said, She won’t survive alone.
Nicholas cursed under his breath, leaping back into the fray. “Damn it, Jo.”
He lunged back into the fight, slashing through the next Leviathan’s flank. The creature screeched, thrashing, its tail knocking Nicholas off his feet — but he rolled, came up snarling, eyes blazing gold.
Behind him, Syrena tried to stand, her hands trembling, her voice trembling between notes. Her power sparked and faded like a dying flame.
When the next wave of Leviathans broke the surface, Nicholas realised how bad it was. Not three. Not four. At least six now, their glowing eyes cutting through the dark water like lanterns.
“Alright that’s enough,” he growled, blood slicking his teeth. He tilted his head back and let loose a howl — low and long and desperate.
It tore through the forest.
A sound no wolf made lightly.
A call for help.
The echo rolled through the cliffs, through the trees, through the hearts of every wolf who heard it.
Far in the distance, Jo froze mid-step. His pulse spiked, his wolf answering before he could even think.
Fuma’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “That was Nicholas.”
Jo didn’t wait for orders. He was already running.
Back at the shore, Nicholas dropped to one knee, breathing hard. His claws were slick with blood — his own and theirs. Syrena was still standing somehow, but barely. Her song had quieted to a whisper now, barely enough to hold the monsters back.
Nicholas glanced at her, chest heaving. “If you die,” he said between breaths, “he’ll never forgive me.”
She looked up, eyes dazed. “Then fucking fight, wolf.”
He smirked — half a snarl, half a grin. “You’re not giving orders down here, Princess.”
And then he was moving again, diving into the chaos, just as the next wave crashed and the first responding howls echoed back through the trees.
The forest answered him.
One howl became three. Then five.
Closer.
But the sea didn’t wait.
The Leviathans surged as one, dark bodies slicing through the black water. Syrena barely had time to react before one tail coiled around her leg, dragging her back toward the foam. She screamed, almost sounding scarily human — shattering against the stone walls of the cove.
Nicholas lunged after her. His claws caught the creature’s hide, tearing deep, but another Leviathan slammed into him from the side. His body hit the rocks hard enough to rattle the cliffs.
He staggered to his feet, blood dripping down his face, and then—
He let go.
His body arched, bones snapping and reshaping, muscles rippling under his skin as the change overtook him. The air shimmered around him, the scent of iron and wild earth thickening.
Where the man had stood, a wolf rose — huge, powerful, his fur a deep shade of sangria red that caught the dim light like fire. His eyes burned gold.
The wolf leapt into the fray.
He tore through the nearest Leviathan, teeth sinking into its throat, ripping scales from flesh. But there were too many. For every monster he threw down, another rose from the depths.
Syrena’s song faltered again — weaker now, barely holding the tide. One of the beasts wrapped around her waist, pulling her down into the surf. Her fingers clawed at the rocks, the saltwater turning red where her nails broke.
Nicholas howled, the sound raw and furious, echoing through the storm. He charged — slamming into the creature that held her, snapping its neck in one brutal motion.
But as he tried to drag her free, another Leviathan struck from behind, its tail whipping across his side. The wolf crashed into the stone, bones cracking, blood splattering against the wet rock.
Syrena reached for him, voice trembling. “Nicholas—!”
Then the sea exploded.
A wall of black water rose behind her — Leviathans dragging her under, claws raking down her arms and back. Her scream drowned under the roar of the surf.
Nicholas lunged forward again, but the current hit too fast, too hard. The wave swallowed her whole, pulling her from his reach. He howled after her — a desperate, broken sound — before three more Leviathans surrounded him.
For a moment, all he could see was movement. Teeth. Claws. Water. Blood.
Then —
A flash of silver.
A blur tore through the first Leviathan, ripping it apart like paper. Another slammed into the shore, dead before it hit the rocks.
From above the treeline, a massive wolf landed — fur pale as moonlight, eyes like steel. K.
He didn’t pause. His claws met scale, and the air filled with the sound of monsters dying.
More shapes burst through the trees — one sleek and dark, one golden, and another massive, with eyes that glowed the color of burning amber.
Euijoo. Fuma. Jo.
The pack had arrived.
The Leviathans hesitated — for a heartbeat, even monsters understood fear.
Jo’s wolf didn’t. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even look at the others.
He tore straight past them — straight toward the sea.
Straight toward her.
Syrena was barely visible now, her body tossed by the waves, her blood painting the surf pink. One Leviathan still had her, dragging her deeper.
Jo’s wolf hit the water before anyone could stop him, his snarl echoing through the storm. The sea hissed where he landed, foam burning against his fur.
Nicholas tried to rise, staggering, his breath coming ragged. “Jo—!”
But Jo didn’t hear. Couldn’t.
He was already gone — swallowed by the sea and fury and the bond that refused to die.
The moment Jo disappeared beneath the surface, the pack howled — the sound fractured, raw, and helpless.
The Leviathans didn’t retreat quietly. The remaining beasts writhed and lunged, their tails slamming against the rocks, furious that their prey had been stolen from them.
K’s wolf met them first, white fur streaked with blood and seawater. His claws sank into a Leviathan’s eye socket, tearing through scale and flesh. Beside him, Euijoo’s wolf — darker, broader — pinned another down while Fuma leapt over his back, jaws finding the creature’s throat.
Nicholas staggered to his feet, ribs aching, vision blurred from blood. He watched the surf — watched the sea churn where Jo had vanished — and his heart lurched.
He took a step forward.
Fuma’s snarl stopped him cold.
“Don’t.” The word came through his teeth, half-growl, half-command. He shifted back to his human form, chest heaving, blood slick down his neck. “You’ll drown before you find him.”
“He’s in there!” Nicholas spat, voice breaking. His wolf eyes still glowed, the instinct to protect screaming in his veins.
Fuma grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him back as another Leviathan lunged. “And you’ll be next if you keep this up. We’re wolves, Nicholas. Land-born. We don’t belong below.”
“But—”
“Enough!” Fuma slammed him against the rock wall. “The old laws are clear — the land does not interfere with the sea. They crossed that line first, and they’ll pay the price. We can’t.”
Nicholas’s jaw clenched. He could still hear the faint echo of Jo’s snarl somewhere beneath the crashing waves — or maybe it was just his mind playing tricks. “So we just let him die?”
“We hold the line,” Fuma said, voice low, heavy. “It’s what he’d do for us.”
Euijoo’s wolf barked sharply — a sound that cut through the chaos. The Leviathans were retreating, slinking back into the depths now that their prey had vanished below. Their scaled backs slipped under the foam, disappearing into darkness.
For the first time, the den went quiet.
Only the wind howled now.
Euijoo shifted back, his expression unreadable as he walked toward the shallows. He crouched by the edge, blood dripping from his arm into the water.
“Jo,” he called quietly. The Alpha tone in his voice cracked for the first time that night. “If you can hear me… come back.”
The sea didn’t answer. Only waves rolled in, lapping at the rocks like nothing had happened.
Behind him, Nicholas dropped to one knee, breathing hard. Fuma stood beside him, scanning the horizon. K shifted back, pressing a hand to a gash across his chest, his pale hair soaked red.
Moments later, more howls echoed through the forest — higher, lighter tones this time. The rest of the pack.
Yuma arrived first, panting hard, followed by Maki and Taki — their faces pale at the sight before them. Harua brought up the rear, carrying a medic’s satchel that looked far too small for the blood spilling onto the rocks.
“Where’s Jo?” Yuma asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Euijoo didn’t look up. His eyes were fixed on the dark water. “Under.”
Harua dropped beside Nicholas immediately, checking his side where crimson soaked through fur and skin. “You’re lucky,” he muttered, pressing a cloth to the wound. “A few inches deeper and you’d be shark food.”
Nicholas didn’t respond. His eyes were still on the waves, his body trembling from exhaustion and something colder.
Fuma dragged a hand through his soaked hair. “We need to regroup. Get everyone back to the den.”
K nodded, grim. “He’ll come back.”
It was a statement, not a question — but no one said it aloud that they all felt the same cold fear:
What if he didn’t?
Euijoo lingered one last moment at the water’s edge. The Alpha inside him warred with the man. His instinct told him to dive — to tear the sea apart until he found his pack mate. But the magic that held the world in balance thrummed beneath the surface, whispering warning through the salt.
The land and the sea do not cross.
Not without consequence.
He exhaled, slow and heavy, before turning away. “Back to the den,” he ordered, voice low. “Now.”
The pack obeyed — limping, bleeding, carrying one another through the forest.
Behind them, the sea rolled on.
Calm now.
Almost serene.
But deep beneath, where no wolf could follow, the storm had only just begun.
Jo’s limbs thrashed against the pull of the water, panic clawing at him as salt stung his eyes. The world had become a blur of green and grey, scales and shadows slipping past, teeth glinting in the low light. He could barely see Syrena, only hear the sharp cadence of her voice cutting through the churn.
“Jo! Focus!” she shouted, her tail slicing through the currents with impossible grace. “Move with me!”
He wanted to, he tried — but his lungs screamed, his body uselessly flailing. The Leviathans circled, dragging him toward the jagged coastline with enormous claws and jagged teeth.
Before he could respond, she was in front of him, hand on his chest. The water around them shimmered with an unnatural glow, scales along her arms glinting like molten violet. Her lips brushed his in a sudden, electrifying kiss. It was soft, insistent, grounding — and in that instant, everything shifted.
Then, instinct flared. His wolf — dormant until now — erupted in a surge of awareness and strength, muscles coiling, limbs extending. He gasped, and something strange happened: his throat didn’t burn. His lungs filled. He could… breathe.
Syrena’s violet eyes widened as she saw him adapt, her hand reaching out. “The myth,” she said, voice trembling with awe and disbelief. “Jo… if a siren kisses you—”
Jo felt his wolf surge fully, instincts melding with reason. Power coursed through him like fire in water, his body stronger, faster, attuned to the currents. His lungs, now filled effortlessly, allowed him to dive deeper, push harder. He grabbed Syrena’s hand, spinning to dodge a Leviathan’s tail that smashed where they had been seconds before.
She laughed, a sound of triumph and relief, her own energy flaring. Royal power surged from her, the water obeying her, swirling in whorls of violet and silver. Scales glinted like armour, her eyes catching glints of light even under the dark waves.
Together, they moved as one — Jo’s wolf instincts guiding every strike, Syrena’s magic bending the water to their will. They slammed into the Leviathans, claws and tail and song merging into something terrifyingly beautiful. A few of the beasts twisted upward, their massive bodies breaching the surface with deafening crashes, water spraying high into the sky.
Syrena’s hands glowed faintly, her power unfurling through her veins like the ocean itself obeying her command. She kicked, twisting, sending a Leviathan careening backward with a force that shook the water. Her fins — subtle now, but strong — sliced through the currents, summoning energy from the very depths.
Jo followed her lead, instinct and wolf-power guiding his movements. They were a whirlwind of water and strength, a force neither of them fully understood, yet perfectly in sync. Every motion she made sparked something inside him, his claws raking scales, his jaws snapping with unnatural precision.
Above, the wolves on land erupted into action. Euijoo, Fuma, and K barreled into the surf, claws slicing through water, muscles taut with urgency. Jo barely had time to acknowledge them, focused entirely on keeping Syrena safe, letting her lead, letting their bond guide him.
Her hands found his again in the chaos, and the touch — electric, grounding — steadied him. “We can do this,” she whispered, her voice carrying authority, calm and deadly.
For the first time, Jo realized: she wasn’t fragile. She wasn’t just a siren in need of protection. She was his equal — powerful, unstoppable, and bound to him in a way that made the impossible feel like instinct.
A Leviathan’s tail swung toward Syrena, and without thinking, Jo shot forward, barreling into it, knocking the creature back with a force that made the water roar around them. He heard the low growl of his wolf surge inside, sharper than ever before.
Syrena twisted, striking again — a strike so powerful it cracked the surface, sending sprays of foam over Euijoo and Fuma as they lunged into the fray.
Even amid the chaos, a strange clarity settled over Jo. He understood her now — her power, her fear, her determination — and something fierce and possessive coiled in him. No one would take her. Not the Leviathans. Not anyone.
As the last few of the smaller Leviathans surged to the surface, gasping and struggling, Jo and Syrena lunged together — a coordinated force neither had ever known — and landed in the shallow water with a crash that shook the rocks.
Above, the pack howled, circling, joining in with renewed purpose. Together, eight wolves and two bonded mates against the tide, they finally had the upper hand.
Jo looked at Syrena, her hair fanning like ink in the water, eyes bright with victory and relief. And for the first time, he let himself truly see her — not as someone to guard, not as a siren in need, but as his mate.
And she looked at him, and the corners of her lips tilted upward, faint, almost shy.
The war wasn’t over. The Shattersea War raged both above and below the waves. But for the first time, Jo knew one thing with certainty: together, they could face it.
The waves had settled, leaving a thin mist curling over the rocks and sand. Jo and Syrena collapsed onto the edge of the shore, drenched, exhausted, hearts still hammering from the fight. Water dripped from Syrena’s hair, clinging to her scales, and for the first time since their arrival, she looked… human again, yet still otherworldly.
Jo flopped beside her, chest heaving, every muscle trembling. He kept a careful distance at first, hands resting in the sand rather than reaching for her, though the wolf inside him throbbed, desperate to curl against her, to mark her as his.
Syrena turned her head, eyes flicking to him, violet catching the fading sunlight. “So…about the kiss,” she said quietly, the words almost drowned in the gentle lapping of the surf.
Jo grunted, awkwardly brushing wet hair from his face. “Yeah. I… I didn’t think you’d—uh…” He trailed off, eyes darting away.
“It was—necessary.” She added quickly, as if reading his thoughts.
Jo grunted, awkwardly brushing his hair from his face. “Necessary?” He echoed.
A small laugh escaped her, uneven, nervous. “It… made you stop dragging me under. And a siren’s kiss helps any creature breathe underwater. Nothing more.”
He tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t know why I believed that excuse, but I’ll let it slide… this time.”
The awkwardness settled like a tangible presence, a quiet tension neither of them could fully shake. Above the low roar of the sea, a familiar voice broke the silence.
“Jo,” Euijoo’s voice carried across the sand, commanding and precise, “come here.”
Jo exhaled, stiffened, then followed the alpha back toward the den, Syrena trailing a few steps behind, still catching her breath, still catching his eyes. The pack had begun to regroup, drying and tending to minor injuries, yet the tension around the two newcomers—wet, salty, and raw from battle—was unmistakable.
“You’ve fought bravely. Protected your mate,” Euijoo said, eyes flicking to Syrena. “That bond changes everything. Protect her. Honor her. That is your responsibility as her mate and as a wolf of this pack.”
Jo’s jaw tightened. “I know.”
Syrena, standing a few feet away, finally looked like she was processing the words, and the concept behind them. “Mate…” she repeated softly, the word tasting foreign but not unwelcome on her tongue. She had heard tales, hints of bonds stronger than blood, stronger than magic. But this— this felt different. Real.
K, who had remained silent through the commotion, stepped closer. For once, he did not linger in the shadows. His voice was quiet but firm, almost reverent offering a kind explanation. “For wolves, mates are… everything. Their wolf chooses. And once that bond is made, it’s for life. There is no replacing it, no bargaining with it. Only one mate, or the wolf slowly dies.” His gazed shifted away, grief flickering through his expression. “The old tales say it’s heartbreak. Some believe it. Some don’t.”
Syrena’s violet eyes widened. “Only one?” she asked. Her tone carried a note of disbelief. “Even if… even if the mate is a different… creature?”
K’s gaze flickered briefly to Jo and Syrena, then back to her. “Yes. Unusual, but not rare. Instinct doesn’t care about species. Only the bond matters. It is powerful. Devastating if broken. Jo’s wolf… and your magic, your lives—they’re intertwined now. You may not understand it fully yet, but you will.”
Syrena looked at Jo, really looked, and the soft haze of awe crossed her features. “So… that’s why I felt something when I kissed you. Something… alive, pulling me in. Not just instinct, not just your strength.”
Jo’s pulse hammered. “It’s…” He trailed off, lost for words. The wolf inside him nudged, restless, aching to claim the space beside her. “It’s real,” he finally said, voice low.
K nodded once, solemn. “It is. And it will shape both of you, whether you’re ready or not.”
A quiet settled over the den, charged with something new—possibility, tension, and unspoken understanding. Syrena’s hand brushed the water from her hair, faint tremor in her fingers betraying the adrenaline still coursing through her veins.
Jo stayed close as Syrena gathered her things, still damp from the sea, the faint shimmer of her scales catching the waning sunlight. His wolf churned, restless, desperate to anchor her here, yet he forced himself to remain still, to give her the space she deserved.
“Syrena…” he started, voice low, careful. She paused, eyes meeting his. “You don’t have to… accept me as your mate. That’s your choice. Not mine. And don’t let… what you’ve heard about wolves dying without a mate scare you. That’s… just K. His wolf chose his mate long ago. She disappeared… we’ve searched, tried everything, but she’s gone. He’s holding on only because he senses she might still be alive.”
Her violet eyes softened, a flicker of understanding passing over her features. “I see,” she murmured. “So… it’s not a requirement. Just instinct. Bond. Choice.”
“Exactly.” He ran a hand through his damp hair, trying to keep the tremor in his voice steady. “You can decide for yourself. Only you can decide.”
She nodded slowly, the weight of it settling on her shoulders. Then, after a long pause, she let out a soft breath and stepped closer, the faint brush of her scales against his arm sending a shiver down his spine. “Then… I accept.”
Jo’s heart leapt. “You… really?”
“Yes,” she whispered, though her lips twitched as if she were half-surprised by her own words. “You didn’t treat me like a monster. You risked your life for me.”
She held her hand on his chest and Jo prayed that she couldn’t feel just how erratically his heart was beating. “You’re… something.” Jo chuckled at her comment, pressing his forehead to hers.
“And I know better than to defy destiny.”
“Oh?” He smirked faintly, “So none of this,” he motioned the gap between the two of them, “Has nothing to do with you maybe liking me a little bit?”
Syrena stepped back, arching a brow. “Excuse me?”
Now where did this confidence come from?
“I mean, I’m just saying.” Jo teased. “The way you kissed me earlier—could have sworn there were feelings involved—“
“Jo!”
He laughed, relief softening his chest. His wolf hummed, low and content beneath his skin. But the moment couldn’t last—sundown was near.
“I have to go,” she said, voice catching, and the faint shimmer of tears reflected the last light of the sun. “I need to see to what remains of my kingdom… prepare the others for what’s coming. The Leviathans have broken ancient laws. The war… it’s only beginning.”
He swallowed, hands clenching. “I’ll wait for you,” he said simply, grounding himself in the moment.
Syrena smiled faintly, the tiniest curve of her lips, and reached her hand into the waves. In a split second she drew out a shell, pale and iridescent, with a tiny hole carved through it. “A pact,” she said, voice soft. “Every full moon, I will return. A week. To spend time with you. To update you on the war. And if ever… you need me,” she pressed the shell into his hand, “call. I’ll come.”
Jo turned it over in his palm, the smooth surface cool and comforting. “I… I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured.
Her eyes glimmered, violet meeting gold. “You’d better.”
There was a beat of silence, a tension thick and unspoken, as if both of them were memorising the feel of the moment—the brush of shoulders, the warmth of proximity, the pulse of instinct pulling at them.
Then, reluctantly, she stepped back, taking a deep breath. “I must go,” she said firmly, though not without a flicker of hesitation in her gaze.
Jo nodded, trying to swallow the ache in his chest. “Go… be safe,” he said, voice low but steady. “I’ll be here.”
He took a step forward closer to her, lifting her chin slowly to meet his eyes. Pressing a soft kiss to her lips, a faint blush painting both their faces, he mumbled, “See you soon.” before she slipped into the shallow surf, the water rising around her like a soft embrace. One moment she was there, and the next, she vanished beneath the waves, leaving only ripples in her wake.
Jo lingered at the edge of the shore, gripping the shell tightly, his wolf humming beneath his skin, restless but tethered, knowing she had chosen him—and that the bond was theirs, no matter the distance. And that was enough.
Behind him, K lingered silently, watching the retreating form of the siren. His voice, low and thoughtful, broke the silence. “She’s made her choice. You’re lucky. Most wolves…” His gaze flicked to Jo, serious. “Most wolves never get that chance. Don’t waste it.”
Jo nodded, jaw tight, eyes still fixed on the horizon. “I won’t.”
The last light faded from the sky, shadows lengthened over the forest, and the pack began their return to the den, tending to injuries, regrouping, preparing for the chaos that the Shattersea War would soon bring.
And far below the waves, Syrena swam, her heart still tethered to the wolf on the shore. She drew strength from him, from the bond they had forged in water and blood, ready to face whatever came next.
summary: when your friends drag you for a night out, you didn't expect to catch the attention of the most attractive guy you've ever met. nor did you expect to sleep with him. but here you were, with messed up feelings about someone whose name you didn't even know. oh, and don't forget he's your brother's best friend (and boss).
pairing: tattooartist!nicholas x female!reader
warning: fluff, angst, smut (oral (both), fingering, both protected and unprotected sex), reader has some trauma in her past (mental health issues that aren't descripted but hinted at)
word count: 11.4k
notes: 2/9 of the series down! i absolutely loved how this turned out. like i need tattoo artist nicho like right now... next up in the series will be yuma! let me know who we want after him. likes and reblogs appreciated!
ink and asphalt masterlist
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you let out a sigh as you set the box of kitchen items on the counter. every part of your body was killing you, having to go up two flights of stairs because of course the elevator would be out of service the day you move in. you all but collapse onto the cold tile floor to cool yourself off, looking up when you see your brother walk in with two more large boxes– looking unbothered as usual.
you wouldn't expect anything less from your brother, fuma. he was three years older than you, claiming the title as older sibling– and always using that against you. he's been your guardian since you were practically born. he hated when you moved a few hours away to go to college for the past few years. now that you were back, you were of course thrown under his wing again– not that you minded.
"how are you so unphased by this?" you ask, a little winded from your trip. fuma laughs, sitting the boxes down before grabbing a water, opening it before handing it to you. you drink half of the bottle before sitting it down beside you.
"maybe it's time for you to start working out, brat." you roll your eyes at his statement.
"i'll start working out when you get a girlfriend." you respond, grabbing his outstretched hand as he helped you off of the floor. "i still don't understand how you got me the apartment right next to yours."
"i promised the owner a free tattoo of any size."
your eyes widened. "that wasn't necessary, bear. i could've rented someplace else."
"it was necessary." he told you, leaving no room for argument. "it's my job to keep you safe."
you hum out a response as you start opening boxes to begin packing away. "you gonna hold my hand and walk me to work too?"
"no, but i am driving you."
you rolled your eyes at his answer. "that's only because i'm saving up for a car. it won't be for long."
"i don't care how long it is." fuma responded. "take your time. maybe spend some money on a new shirt first."
you look down when he tugged on the frayed shirt that clearly had a couple holes in it. this was one of your favorite shirts– fuma got it for you when you two went to a concert together when you were 15. you gasped at the notion, smacking his hand away from you. "how dare you say such a thing? you don't see me telling you to get rid of that dirty pokémon that i got you."
"maybe i will when you learn its name." he crossed his arms, waiting for you to tell him the name– chuckling when it was clear that you didn't know the name. "it's eevee."
"i knew that."
fuma rolled his eyes, messing up your hair as he walked by. "of course you did, brat."
"whatever." you huffed. "you got plans for the weekend?"
"yeah. i'm going out clubbing with the guys. wanna come?"
you shook your head. "chae and yunjin are also going clubbing and asked if i wanted to go with them."
"be careful, okay. i won't be drinking, so let me know if you need a ride."
you nod your head, a small smile on your face. "of course, bear. i'll be careful. promise."
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your promise to fuma to be careful went out the window as soon as you stepped into the club. you told yourself you were really going to try, but you immediately caught sight of arguably one of the most attractive guys you've ever seen. he instantly caught your eye– even as you sat down at a booth with chae and yunjin.
you couldn't see too much due to the dark lights, but you could see the way his dark eyes scanned the space with a confident aura. your eyes followed the sharp lines of his jaw, watching as they become more defined as he smiled at some guy as he walked by. and when he lifted his hand to brush his hair out of his face, you could see the tattoos peeking out from under his jacket sleeve. you felt yourself becoming entranced by the man who hadn't even looked in your direction yet.
you shouldn't even be entertaining the idea. you just moved here a few days ago– still getting settled into a new job. you shouldn't be tempted to find someone, but maybe you didn't. maybe you could just have some fun. just fun. no commitment.
"who are we staring at, babe?" you glance over to yunjin as she slides into the booth across from you, sitting down a round of drinks.
"he must be cute because she's been ignoring me for the last 5 minutes." chae responded with a light laugh.
you blush at the fact that you got caught staring at someone. "it's nothing. just a cute guy."
"cute like i want to bring him to meet the parents, or cute like i want to end the night underneath him screaming his name?" you nearly choke on your drink at yunjin's question. "i'm guessing it's the second option."
"oh, girl this could be so good for you." chae exclaimed.
you shook your head. "i don't have time for anything."
"but you do have time for a one night stand." yunjin spoke as she took a sip of her drink before motioning behind you. "i'm hoping that's the guy you were staring at because he's looking at you like he wants to devour you."
chae leaned over to look– a small gasp slipping past her lips. "yn! he's so cute."
you quickly glance over your shoulder, meeting the dark eyes that had captured your attention earlier. when he realized you were staring at him, he smirked, sending a wink in your direction. you bite your lip at the motion, an action that he noticed– eyes trailing to your lips. you smiled at that before quickly turning back around.
"oh my god. that's him." you whisper shout to your two clearly excited friends.
"whatever you just did worked because he has not stopped staring." chae responded. "who knew our girl had it in her?"
"she's about to have a lot more in her."
you groan at her words but couldn't help the stir in your stomach at the thought. you never thought you would be the one for a one night stand, but for someone like him, you would make an exception. "what do i do?"
"you're going to get your ass up and make him come to you." yunjin said, receiving two confused looks from you and chae. "go dance babe."
your eyes widened. "not alone!"
"oh please." yunjin brushed off your concerns with a flick of her wrist. "you won’t be alone for more than a few seconds. i guarantee it. if not, i’ll join you. just make sure you text us in the morning, so we know you're still alive."
you thought about it for a moment, chewing on your lip. "am i really about to do this?"
"yes, you are." chae nodded. "you said it yourself. you have worked hard to get to where you are, and you deserve a night of fun. besides, you said your last boyfriend was shit in bed, so you clearly need to get laid properly."
you let out a sigh, drinking the rest of your drink before standing up. even as you leave the table and disappear in the large crowd, you could still feel his eyes on you– watching you. you tried to blend in, even though you've never danced alone before, closing your eyes before dancing along to the music.
you were alone for maybe 30 seconds before you felt a warm body slide behind yours. his sharp cologne hit your nose as his hand flattened on your stomach, pulling you closer to him. as the two of you dance, you could feel his semi as your back pressed against his front– feeling as it gets harder when you roll your hips back. his other hand moves across your shoulder, running his thumb over your jaw before tilting your head up– meeting his gaze for a second time.
"keep dancing with me like this, and you're not leaving alone." his voice low, rough as he leans in to whisper in your ear.
your breath hitches as his lips graze the shell of your ear. you turn your head, catching more glimpses of tattoos on his neck and chest as you turn around in his arms – grabbing his jacket and pulling him closer to you. “good.”
his eyes scan your face for any sort of hesitance, but he doesn’t get any. his hand slides to the small of your back – the other one in your hair. he slightly tugs on the strands, angling your gaze back up to his. his breath was warm as it hit your skin as his nose brushed yours. “i don’t let go easy.”
“who likes easy?” you respond, earning a low chuckle from him. “but if you take me home, i should at least know your name.”
his smirk was teasing, lips almost brushing yours as his hand moves out of your hair – thumb trailing along your bottom lip that was painted red. “you’ll forget it with the way i plan to touch you, but you can call me weno if you want.” you could tell that wasn’t his actual name, and somehow that made you feel more calm about this. he knew it as well that it was only for tonight. “and i’ll call you red.”
your mouth parted, and he took the opportunity to slide his thumb into your mouth. you wrapped your lips around him, circling your tongue around his thumb as you suck – all while keeping eye contact with him. a small curse leaves his mouth as he watches you. he slowly pulls his thumb out of your mouth, smearing your saliva on your lower lip. he didn’t say another word, grabbing your jaw before slamming his lips onto yours.
his kiss was rough, claiming you like he’s been wanting to do since he set his sights on you. you gasp into his mouth, fingers clutching his shoulders before moving up to tangle into his hair. he lets out a barely their groan when you pull on the strands, but you could feel the vibration against your lips. your lips parted– his tongue sliding against yours, slow and teasing. you shiver as the cool jewel of his tongue piercing slid against your tongue because of course he had one. he almost refused to stop, but as much as he wanted to, he didn’t take it any further – not while the two of you were still in the middle of the dance floor. his grip on your back tightened as he pulled away from you first. you let out a breath, finally feeling the intensity of the kiss, you just shared. your eyes meet his, slightly nervous that he didn’t feel the same way, but all you saw was his eyes, somehow darker now, staring down at you with the same intensity you were sure you had.
“do you want to go back to mine?” his tone was short, clearly struggling to keep control of his emotions.
“i would be really disappointed if not.” you untangle your hands from his hair– him grabbing your hand immediately before guiding you out of the club. you met yunjin’s and chae’s eyes for a second, sending a quick wave while watching the two freak out. you would never hear the end of this from the two of them.
he led you over to his car. “i haven’t had anything to drink, so you’re safe with me.”
you nodded your head, allowing him to help you get in before he got in himself. the lights lit up the car as you passed under them before you two were developed into darkness. his hand drifted to your thigh, right above your knee– unmoving as he tries to focus on the road, but you were making it impossible. the way your eyes watch his every move, lips swollen from where he’s kissed you, thighs clenched shut as you shift in your seat.
he meets your gaze as he pulls up to his place. “last chance to turn back.”
you wait until he parks the car before unbuckling your seatbelt, leaning over– lips grazing his ear while your other hand brushes against his erection. “bold word coming from someone with a boner.”
“get out of the car.” you smile at his demand, pulling away from him before getting out of the car. he once again grabs your hand, guiding you up the driveway before letting the two of you into the house. it was dark, and he didn’t bother to turn any lights on before he pulled you into him. “you’re mine now.”
his mouth crashed against yours, done with the teasing from earlier. the kiss was hot and messy– all tongue and teeth as his hands grip at your sides. his hands bunch up your dress, allowing his hands to run along your bare legs, squeezing at the tender flesh. you moan into the kiss when his hands pull your dress up even more, exposing your lower half to him. his lips leave yours as he spins you around, chest pressed against the wall as his thigh pushes between your legs. his hands tightly grip your waist as his hips press against yours– moaning out when his clothed erection rolls against you. his breath was rough on your neck as his lips attach to the skin, biting down hard enough to have you gasp.
“this is what you wanted, isn’t it red?” you nod your head. tilting your head to allow him even more of your body that felt like it was on fire– everywhere he touched felt like a match had been stuck there.
his hand slides around your waist, trailing along the edge of your waistband before moving down between your legs. his touch was slow, teasing as his fingers ran over the fabric– feeling the wet spot and showing how much you wanted him. “so wet, red. and i haven’t even started yet.”
“weno–” you whine out when his fingers slip into the front of your underwear. his touch was slow, just enough to make you squirm, not enough to satisfy. you hear his low chuckle in your ear when you push back against him.
“patience, red. i’m going to take my time with you.”
your whine quickly turns into a sigh in relief, cheek resting against the wall when his thumb finally puts pressure on your throbbing clit. his lips continued to kiss and bite along your neck as his touch deepens, teasing your slit before he slides a finger inside of you, barely giving you any time to adjust before he’s moving his hand– groaning against your ear when you clench around him as a moan escapes your lips.
“so tight.” he breaths, curling his finger just right to have your back arch, crying out at the feeling. “how long has it been since someone’s touch this gorgeous body?”
“too long.” you groan out as he plunges in a second finger. he started out slow before building up a rhythm that had you rolling your hips against his hand. “fuck– weno.”
“there she is. i want you to lose control for me. you’re not leaving here without screaming my name to the point where you can’t talk.” you jump when his thumb increases speed on your clit, circling the bud tightly. you whine out his name as his hand pumped faster, motions deliberate– wanting to watch as you fell apart. “let me hear how good you sound as you come all over my fingers, red.”
his fingers curled, hitting the perfect spot to bring you over the edge. you cried out his name, rocking your hips against his hand as you ride out your high. his grip was tight on your waist as you opened your eyes to meet his, lust filling his eyes. his fingers leave you as he pulls his glistening hand up to his face. he makes sure you keep eye contact as he cleans off his hand with his mouth, groaning at the taste and leaving you desperate for more.
“you’re not getting any sleep tonight.”
your world is flipped upside down as he throws you over his shoulder. he climbs a set of stairs before opening a door down the hallway. it was pitch black as he threw you back onto the bed. he turned his bedside lamp on before he climbed on top of you– legs keeping you hostage. his breath hit your lips before his tongue shoved past your lips, brushing against your tongue lazily, but it kept you wanting more. your hands gripped his shoulders, pushing his jacket off before trying to pull his shirt off as well. he bit your lip before he sat up– a silent warning to not being patient as he pulled off his shirt.
your eyes ran down his chest and arms, seeing the tattoos that painted over almost all of his skin. you only looked away when you heard him laugh, meeting his eyes as he leans back down– holding your jaw as he kissed you. “like what you see red?”
you open your mouth to respond but stop when his hands cup your breasts. a small gasp left your mouth when he pulled the top of your dress down, exposing your breasts to him. his lips trail down your neck, biting and sucking, while his hands return to your breasts. his hands rough and teasing, squeezing just enough to make you arch into his touch. you could feel his smug smile on your skin, nipping at your neck as his thumb brushed over your nipple. you jump– a moan leaving your lips when he pinches the sensitive bud.
“listen to you. so responsive already, and i’m just getting started.”
his mouth left your neck, impatiently moving down to your chest. he pulled your dress down even further as he kissed between your breasts, letting his tongue trace shapes as he slowly trailed down. his hands cupped your breasts again– like he loved the feeling of them in his hands. he squeezed them one last time before his tongue found your breast. he flicked your nipple teasingly before latching his mouth around it, sucking harshly.
you gasp, back arching as your hands tangle in his hair. “fuck, weno.” he was like an animal– biting and sucking until your skin turned red before running his tongue along the area, soothing it. his hands groping and squeezing at every inch of skin his mouth couldn’t. your back arched into his mouth when he groaned– the vibration sending chills across your skin. “weno, please.”
“greedy girl. begging for more already?” he taunted as his hands started to pull the dress off your body. as soon as he threw the dress, his lips moved away from your breast, trailing slow, heated kisses down your stomach while his hands toyed with your waistband. “say please again and maybe i’ll give you what you want.”
“please.” you beg, raising your hips, desperate for more. “please, weno.”
he let out a hum of approval, sliding your bottoms down your legs. his kissed the inside of your thigh before kissing the other one, biting down in warning when you whined in impatience. he moved forward, finally giving you some relief. his tongue was slow, licking along your folds – watching when you jerked when his piercing pressed against your clit. you had never felt anything like it before, and now you were questioning why. “you’re sweet as sin, red.”
he dove in completely without warning, tongue moving against you like he had done it a million times and knew exactly how to make you scream. he let his piercing do most of the work, circling and rolling over your clit – having you grab the sheets to try to ground yourself. your moans were getting louder, more frequent as his hand spread across your stomach, holding you down. his other hand that was gripping your thigh moved, slightly ghosting up your leg until he was teasing your entrance. with one motion, he plunged two fingers deep inside of you– your hand tangling in his hair at the action.
“f- weno.”
you could feel him get more confident, more into making you come undone again for him. he kept changing up his speed, going fast enough to have your eyes rolling back before slowing down– allowing you to feel everything he was giving you. your heels dug into the mattress, thighs trying to close around his head which only made him pull you closer to his mouth. you glanced down, eyes widening when you took him in. his eyes were half closed, glazed over with lust– face glistening with your slick. he blinked, looking up to see you looking at him. you feel him smirk against you before he winked, curling his fingers enough to have you throw your head back. your stomach tightened, curling with heat– making you let out a low, whining moan.
“are you going to come again, red?” he taunted, pressing his piercing flat against your clit, holding you down when you jerk. you’re unable to answer him, nodding your head at his question. “say please.”
“p-please let me come, weno.”
“good girl.” he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking harshly, watching as your back arches off the bed. he fills you tighten around his fingers, his name leaving your lips a second later as you reach your high. your hand wounded tightly in his hair, pulling hard enough to have him groaning against you. he stuck his tongue out, cleaning up every drop of your release off you and his hand before moving back up your body. you opened your eyes, instantly meeting his dark ones. “you’re going to ruin me red.”
instead of responded, you hand wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to you. your lips crashed together in a heated kiss as he closes the distance between you– chest pressed tightly together as his lips move against yours. your hands roam his body, feeling every muscle and grove before your hands meet his waistband. he lifted up slightly, helping you get his bottoms off, leaving him bare above you. your eyes glaze over his body, examining every inch of his skin. most of it was tattooed– colors and symbols marking his skin and making him even more stunning.
he moved to hover over you again, but your hands caught him, pushing him to lay on his back before you moved to straddle him. you lean down, capturing his lips again before moving down to his neck. he exposed his neck, keeping his hands tight around your waist, as he lets you bite and mark him like he did to you. you continue making your way down his neck before moving down his chest and stomach until your reach his cock, thick and throbbing– leaking against his stomach. your hand wraps around him, giving him a soft stroke that had him biting his lip, nearly bucking into your hand with need.
you lean down, taking your time as you slowly run your tongue along the underside, watching as he curses with your touch. “fuck, red.”
you smirk before taking as much of him into your mouth as you could– hand wrapping around the rest. he lets out a groan, hand wrapping in your hair. you fully expected him to guide you, but he didn’t. he let your pick the pace, pulling when your tongue swirled around him. you moan, and that alone has him nearly coming undone. you pull away from him with a small ‘pop’ before looking up at him. you kept your hand moving, squeezing at the base and watching him thrust up into your hand.
“condom?” he blinks at your question for a second before the words register. you keep your hand slowly moving as he reaches over into his nightstand, pulling out a condom. you grab it from him– him groaning when you open it with your teeth before sliding it down him.
you move up, hands braced on his shoulders as you straddled his hips. he had a teasing grin on his face that you watched falter as you sank down onto him. a low groan left his lips, along with a gasp from you. his hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin as your hips met his. your breath hitched at the fill of him, loving the way he felt as you adjusted to him.
you started out slow, rolling your hips in a way that had him squeezing your sides– no doubt leaving bruises. his hands started to help guide you, his hips thrusting up at points to meet yours. you lean down, breath shaky as your lips meet his. his hand grips the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss. he felt your moves falter, thighs trembling from your efforts. his hands move, wrapping around your waist before flipping you over. your back hits the mattress– his lips pressing into yours as he thrusts into you.
“i’ve got you.” his voice quiet against your lips, moving to your neck as his pace builds into fast, desperate thrusts. “fuck, red. you feel so fucking good.”
your nails dig into his back, chest arching into his as his lips claim yours again. he kisses you messily– getting lost in pleasure like you were. your voice raw as your moans turn into soft gasps, hips rolling up to meet his. he could feel you– could tell that you were close by the way your thighs started trembling again, nails scraping down his back.
his hand reaches between you, finding your swollen clit with his fingers, circling it slowly. it was just enough to have you crying out his name as you fell over the edge. you arch into him, extremities wrapping around him tightly, clenching around him as you start to come down. his hips kept moving, starting to stutter as he feels it. your arms pull him down, clinging to him as you kiss him, and that was enough for him. he thrusted one last time with a groan against your lips as he released into the condom.
he stays still for a moment, head resting against yours as the two of you catch your breaths. his hand moves up, fingers trailing along your jaw. “are you okay?”
“i’m okay.” you nod with a soft smile. you expected things to turn awkward after this. like he would immediately want you gone. instead, you felt the opposite, smiling when he leans down to kiss you again.
he doesn’t say much after, leading you not to either. he moves away from you, taking off the condom before grabbing a towel before helping you clean up. you were confused, wondering why he wasn’t asking you to leave. he laid back down beside you, pulling you against his chest, holding you. he pulls the cover around the two of you, pressing one last kiss to your shoulder before you hear his breaths even out– signaling that he was asleep.
you allow yourself to believe that all of this meant something to him like it did to you. maybe it wasn’t just a one night stand because none of this felt like one. but then your thoughts started creeping in– your fear of commitment. you’ve had plenty of boyfriends, but you’ve always kept them at an arm's length, not even letting your brother or mother meet them. you wouldn’t be able to do that with him, and that scared you more that it should. you start to regret coming here because now you’re now going to be stuck on some guy who’s name you didn’t even know.
that thought alone sent a pain through your chest. you asked for his name, and he wouldn’t give it to you. he made his intentions clear that this wasn’t anything more than one night. you try to convince yourself that it meant nothing. he got what he wanted, and so did you. that was it.
so why did it hurt so bad when you snuck out that next morning?
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━☆━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
the last two weeks have been hard to say the least. every time you let your mind drift, they drifted back to your mystery man. his sharp, dark eyes. his teasing smile that seemed to never leave. the way your skin still feels like it’s on fire from where he touched, no matter how many times you scrubbed at the skin. the love bites and bruises that littered your skin took a week to disappear, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at them– mind drifting back to the best night you’ve ever had before you ruined it.
a part of you felt stupid for being so hung up on someone you only knew for a few hours. it wasn’t supposed to feel like this– like a part of you was broken because you didn’t stay. leaving didn’t normally hurt like this. it didn’t normally leave a pit in your stomach that refused to go away. no matter what you did or what you told yourself, it stayed almost like it was mocking you.
you open the door to the tattoo shop where your brother works, the bell dinging and signaling your arrival. you were supposed to be meeting with him to go car shopping since you were finally settled in. the shop was quiet, empty since it was late on a tuesday afternoon. you noticed some guy sitting behind the counter, hood on sketching on a tablet with his back turned towards you.
“excuse me.” you call out, walking up to the counter. “i’m looking for fuma.”
you watch as his back tenses, confusing you. his hand stops, dropping the pen before turning around. your eyes widen, jaw dropping when you see the guy from that night staring back at you just as shocked as you were. unlike you, he quickly pulled together his act, taking his hood off before standing up– smirk back on his lips.
“didn’t think i’d see you again, red.” his tone was cocky, borderline cruel nearly making you flinch. you try to brush off the sting, matching his tone with an equally rude one.
“didn’t think you’d care, weno.”
“right.” he let out a scoff, leaning forward onto the counter. “that’s why you left, huh?”
he watched your expression flicker, hurt flashing before you covered it up. “what was i supposed to? stay? you didn’t say anything. not even your name. just held me like i was a stuffed animal– like i was convenient for you.”
“i didn’t want to mess anything up.” he spoke. “i thought if i said something, it would only push you away.”
“and i thought if i stayed, you’d push me away.”
his mouth opened like he was going to say something but was stopped when fuma walked into the room. “nicho, i see you met yn.”
his eyes widen just slightly as his gaze flickers back to you. you nod your head, finally knowing his name. it was nicholas. him and another guy owned this tattoo shop where fuma works. he was also one of fuma’s best friends. you unknowingly slept with your brother's best friend.
you blink away your pain, replacing it with a smile as you turn to your brother. “yes, he was just telling me about the shop.”
“maybe now that you’ve seen the place, you’ll finally let me tattoo you.” you roll your eyes at your brother’s antics.
“in your dreams.”
he laughs before motioning to the back. “i’m going to go grab the car. i’ll meet you out front.”
once he walked back the way he came, nicholas turned to you. “did you-”
“no.” you answer, knowing what he was going to ask. “did you?”
“no.” you nod your head, turning to leave out of the front door when he stopped you again. “did that night really mean nothing to you?”
you sigh, hand on the handle before turning to him. “it doesn’t matter if it did anymore. not only are you my brother’s boss, but you’re his friend. i’m not doing that to him. no matter how much that night meant to me.”
you left the store without another word, and you thought that would be the last you would see of nicholas, but of course the universe had other plans. and by universe, you meant fuma. he kept inviting you out with the guys, so you could get to know them. and of course, you couldn’t say no because he would ask why, and you weren’t telling him you unknowingly slept with his friend. he also introduced you to one of his friend’s k’s girlfriend, who you absolutely adored. his friends were nice, and you got along with all of them. except one– the one who refused to leave your mind.
you couldn’t stand to be anywhere close to nicholas. every time you were near him, you could feel your chest ache, the guilt of leaving him hitting you. you weren’t going to go back on your word, and that made it so much harder because he kept trying to get you to. every time no one was paying attention, there was some sort of lingering touch or hushed words that made you just want to jump into his arms. it was starting to get harder and harder to brush them off. he was making you go crazy– like you couldn’t breathe when you were around him. every time you closed your eyes you saw him. every time you saw something red, you thought of him and that nickname he only called you when no one was paying attention. it was only a matter of time before you snapped.
it was late, after hours at the shop. everyone had left, except you, nicholas, and fuma. you were helping fuma clean his station when he stepped out for a smoke because he wouldn’t do it near you since you didn’t like it. as soon as you were alone, you could feel his eyes on you, lingering until he finally spoke up.
“are you really not going to say anything to me?”
you shrug your shoulders, not looking at him. “there’s nothing for me to say.”
“red, you left before i could wake up and say anything.” you turn around, meeting his gaze and trying not to falter. you needed to be strong not only for you but for your brother. you wouldn’t hurt him, and you wouldn’t hurt yourself.
“exactly.”
you watch as his jaw clenches in anger, storming up to you from across the room– chests brushing as he looks down at you. “so that was it? just one night?”
“you and i both made it clear that it was only one night. hence the phrase one night stand.” you take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest.
“things change.”
you nod. “they do. like the fact that you’re my brother's friend.”
“i didn’t know that, but that doesn’t change anything.” you let out a sigh as he argues with you.
“it does.” you argue back. “it makes it complicated. messy.”
“or maybe it makes it real.”
your breath hitches at his words, gazing fully into his eyes for the first time tonight. you feel a knot in your throat as you blink back tears. “why do you care so much? it was supposed to be only one night.”
“because i haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night.” he answers. “and i know you haven’t either. i know you watch when you think i’m not paying attention. staring at me– my body as you remember how good i made you feel. how real it felt. and you just want to what? forget it ever happened because it’s easier? because you’re scared?”
“you don’t know me!” you snap, tears falling– hitting your cheeks. you watch as his face drops at the sight of your tears. his hand clenches like he’s stopping himself from wiping your tears. “you’re asking me to give you something that i’ve never given to anyone before.”
“it’s okay to be scared, red. i won’t hurt you.” you almost soften at the nickname that you came to love, but you still couldn’t force yourself to go there.
“i’m not scared. i’m terrified. what if i let you in, and you leave? what if you become important to me, and you leave? i can’t– i just can’t.” you move away from him, ignoring the calling of your name as you run out of the shop– with hopes of never seeing him again.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
it’s been a week since your breakdown on nicholas. you had completely stopped tagging along with fuma much to everyone’s dismay. you kept pushing away fuma and his interrogations– burying yourself in work and your other friends to avoid him. you’ve gotten a few texts from some of the guys, begging you to come hang out with them, but you refused every time. you couldn’t let yourself be around nicholas because you don’t trust yourself to keep being able to refuse him. a part of you also thinks he actually got the message, moving on from you. you weren’t going to be able to handle that, but it was your fault. you were the one who told him to leave you alone. why were you like this? why couldn’t just give him a chance? instead, you let your fear ruin you once again.
you know you were starting to concern fuma. you had done this before– slowly drifting away from him until he nearly lost you. you could tell it was starting to scare him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him what was wrong. what if he was mad at you or judged you? you can handle anyone else doing those things, but not your brother. not the man who has taken care of you since you were a kid because your mother wasn’t able to– too wrapped up in her sorrows to care for two kids. he was the one who taught you to ride a bike. to cook. he even learned how to do makeup, so he could teach you how to do it. he was the one person who was always there for you, so you never want him to be disappointed in you. but the guilt of sleeping with nicholas, and him not knowing was making you lose sleep at night.
it was a friday evening, and fuma texted you seeing if you wanted to hang out at the shop with him and some of the guys. of course, you said no because you knew nicholas would be there. you didn’t get a response, so you expected to be alone for the evening when you heard a knock on your door. you get up, moving towards the door before opening it. there stood your brother with some alcohol and fried food– your guys go to for nights in.
you move aside, letting him in. “i thought you were hanging out with the guys.”
“got the urge to hang out with my favorite person instead.” he responded, dragging you into the living room before setting up the food. you sit next to him, curling your legs as you watch him pull food out of the bags. “i’d rather hang out with you instead.”
“i know i’m pretty awesome, but you didn’t have to do this.” you bump his shoulder before grabbing a piece of chicken.
“i wanted to.” he opened a drink for you before opening one of his own. “you’ve been acting weird lately.”
“weird?” you question.
“like before.” you went quiet at his words. you didn’t expect him to come right out and say it. you know your pasts were rough and that caused you two to go through some things, but you promised him you would never go to that dark place again.
“it’s not like that. i promise.” you reassure him. your eyes meet his, and you could tell he was trying to make sure you were telling the truth– giving you a small nod when he realized you were. “i’m just- i don’t know. going through something, and i’m trying to figure out how to get over it.”
fuma leaned over, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “let me help you, brat.”
“i don’t think you can, bear.”
“we’ll never know if you don’t tell me.” fuma pushed. you look down at your lap, picking at your hoodie before you spoke up.
“when i went to the club with the girls, i met someone.” you started to explain. “it felt like- i don’t know– like a chemical reaction. i’d never felt like that with someone before.”
“did you sleep with him?” fuma questioned.
you nodded your head– choosing not to go into detail to save you both the trauma. “it was supposed to be a one night stand. we didn’t even tell each other our names. but it didn’t feel like that. it felt like i had just found a missing piece i didn’t know i lost. but i ruined it.”
“how so?”
“i left that next morning without waking him. i wanted to stay, so bad. but i was scared that he was going to push me away, so i left before he could. and that’s not what he wanted at all.”
“he wanted you to stay?” you nod your head at his question. “so i’m assuming you ran into him again.” another nod from you. “so, what’s the isssue then?”
“i got scared, so i pushed him away.”
“why?”
“because of mom.” you answered– listening as fuma sighed out. he was fully aware of your fear of commitment because of your guys’ mother. “we watched her, bear. after dad died, she became a shell, and there wasn’t anything we could do about it. you had to step up and take care of me because i would’ve ended up like her. after watching her, i made a promise that i wouldn’t allow myself to get close to anyone, so they couldn’t hurt me like that.”
“yn–” fuma started to say, but you shook your head.
“you don’t get it. the way i feel about him is exactly the way mom felt about dad. i remember always asking her why she chose him and not understanding any of her reasons. now i do, and that terrifies me. if i let him in, and something happens, i’m not strong enough to survive that.”
silence encases the two of you while fuma processes your words. “you’re not mom. you are so much stronger than her– stronger than anyone i know.”
“he makes me feel weak.” you tell him. “but he also makes me feel things no one else has.”
“then give him a chance to prove it. it will hurt you more to live with this regret of not doing something.”
“you think i should go after him?” you ask.
fuma nods. “i think if not being with him makes you feel like this, i think it’s worth trying. after i meet him, that is.”
“you already have.” you mumble, watching as his face turns to confusion– before turning into horror.
“is it nicho?” your silence was his answer. “i knew something was going on with him. he hasn’t been acting himself the past few weeks, especially this last week.”
“i kind of blew up on him last week.” you speak up. “but i didn’t know who he was when i slept with him. you gotta believe me.”
fuma smiles at you, relieving your fear of him being mad. “i know, brat. i’m not mad. i just wish you told me sooner, so we could’ve talked about this. you know i hate it when you push me away.”
“i’m sorry.” you apologize. “i was scared you would be upset.”
fuma pulls you into his side. “upset with you? i don’t think that’s a thing. you couldn’t do anything that would make me be upset with you.”
“even being with your friend who is also your boss?” fuma nods.
“even then, brat. but you got to promise me you’ll start talking to me if something is bothering you.”
“i promise.” you smile. “so, what do i do?”
“stop running. give him a chance. i’ve known nicho for years, and he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. he’s a good guy.” fuma explained. “k has a race tomorrow, and he’s going to be there. want to tag along?”
you thought about it for a moment before nodding. “let’s do it.”
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━☆━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
the air was thick, and you couldn’t tell if it was from your nerves of seeing nicholas again, or if it was the giant crowd that never seemed to disperse. your brother was in front of you, guiding you over to where the rest of the guys were. the music was loud– lights blinding you. but that didn’t stop you from finding him.
he was leaning back on a black car you knew belonged to k, dark hair parted showing his forehead. he was dressed like when you first met him– black jeans and a leather jacket with a white shirt that was low cut, exposing his tattoos. he was sporting a smile as he watched harua and some girl you didn’t recognize argue.
“yn!” you turn just in time to be tackled in a spine crushing hug. you let out a groan as you try to wiggle out of your capture’s arms.
“taki, let me go.”
“never.” he squeezed you, laughing when you let out a groan. “not until you promise you won’t avoid us again.”
“i wasn’t avoiding you, but i promise.” you gasp when he let you go. you push him away from you, nearly knocking him over as you moved away from him. “k, control your psycho son.”
“i will when you tell me why you haven’t been coming around.” k spoke as he walked up to you. you stilled for a moment at his question– something that he didn’t notice, but someone else did.
“k, leave her alone.” a feminine voice spoke up as k’s girlfriend made her presence known. the heavily tattooed girl had her arms crossed over her chest as she made her way to you two. “you guys keep bombarding her, and she’s going to leave again. i don’t blame you though, yn. these guys are a lot sometimes.”
“angel!”
she ignored him, turning fully towards you with a smile. “let’s go get something to drink.”
you laugh at the betrayed look on k’s face, snorting when it turned into glaring at you for taking his girl away. the two of you leave, but not before you glance at where you last saw nicholas– furrowing your brows when you couldn’t find him. you kept your eye out for him as the two of you went to get drinks– listening to her tell a story about high school when you found him. and how you wished you didn’t.
he was talking to a girl you didn’t know, laughing when she said something funny. her hand brushed his arm, lingering for a second too long for it to be innocent. she was tall, model like pretty, and covered in tattoos just like him. they looked good standing side by side, and that hurt you more than you like to admit. you wanted to mad at him but stopped yourself. you shouldn’t even be acting like this. you two weren’t anything– you made sure of it by pushing him away. and the pain in your chest watching them is why you didn’t want to get any closer to him, but there was a new part that had you still wanting him despite the fact he could hurt you.
“are you okay?” you look up to see her looking at you in concern. you smile, nodding your head.
“i’m fine. just looking for a bathroom.”
she pointed it out, and you took the chance to walk away. not just from her, but from the race itself. you didn’t realize that you were almost home but didn’t stop until you closed the door of your empty apartment– something that used to bring you comfort but now brings you sorrow. you were tired of the quiet. tired of the alone, but you didn’t know how to do otherwise. you’ve ran for so long, you don’t know how to stay still.
a low knock on the door broke you from your thoughts. you stand there, staring at the door unmoving. it wasn’t until they knocked again– harder that you moved. you unlocked the door and had just barely opened it when you saw a flash of black push their way into your apartment, shutting the door, leaving you completely alone with who you’ve been running from. you watch as nicholas blocks your exit, leaving you locked in your apartment with him. his eyes never leaving yours as he did so.
“why did you leave?”
you shrug your shoulders, trying to stop yourself from becoming defensive as it came to natural to you at this point. “that’s not my scene.”
“are you sure?” nicholas questioned, taking a step towards you. his voice level– calm but still had that pushing edge to it. “or is it because you saw me talking to someone? because you seemed completely fine until you saw her.”
you shake your head, folding your arms to stop the shaking. “no. it wasn’t about her.”
“no, it wasn’t. it was about you.” you back up when he walks forward, trying desperately to keep your distance. “you weren’t mad. you weren’t upset. you were scared.”
“stop.”
he continued, despite your beg for him to stop. “you looked hurt. like it hurt you to lose me.”
you swallow hard, hating how well he could read you. how could he know this? you two barely knew each other. “don’t-”
“you said you don’t do this.” he stopped an inch from you, arms shooting out to hold onto the couch– blocking you in. “i can be patient. i can wait as long as i have to for you. i’m not asking you to give me all of you. i’m only asking for you to stop running away from things that feel real. from me.”
“what if it is real?” your expression tightened, pushing back your tears. “what if i let it be real, and one day i wake up and it’s gone?”
his gaze softened, lifting his hand up– brushing against your cheek. you didn’t flinch away like the last time he tried to touch you. his jaw dropped when he realized you were letting him in or at least trying to. “then i’ll be right by your side telling you that i’m not going anywhere, red.”
“i don’t know how to let people in. or how to stop running.” he smiled at your honesty, something that shocked you.
“that’s okay. we have time, okay? just don’t shut me out anymore. let me prove to you that i’m not going anywhere.”
you blink at him, jaw clenching as you fought against everything you had believed in for so long. nicholas could see the fight, hoping that you would pick him. his heart dropped when you brushed his hand away from you, but that disappeared when you when you fell into his arms, wrapping your arms around him. his hand cradled your head as you rested it on his chest, other one pulling you closer to him. his lips pressed against your forehead– a silent thank you for choosing him.
his hands cupped your cheeks when you pulled back to look at him before leaning down. the kiss was soft, patient– like he was promising you he wouldn’t mess it up. your hands curled against his jacket, pulling him closer to you. it felt the same but completely different than last time. it felt like he was trying to take away all of your fears and worries, but it was okay if he couldn’t– because he was going to be there every step of the way until you weren’t.
you sighed into the kiss, lips parting when his tongue traced across them. his hands drifted, running down your sides until he was gripping your hips– pulling them flush against his. your thumb ran along his jaw, drawing a silent groan from him. he pulled away from you, resting his head against yours. “you okay, red?”
“i’m okay.” you nod, letting your hands slowly run down his chest. he watched your actions– intentions clear as day. his eyes met yours, and he couldn’t see any doubt. any fear. just want.
his mouth met yours again, pressing deeper– needier as he felt how much you wanted him. his hands slide underneath your shirt, heating up your skin as he traces along your skin. as his lips got more heated, he didn’t rush. you could tell he was going to take his time just like last time. he was going to make you feel everything he was going to give you, so you never have to question his intentions again.
his grip tightened when you leaned up to kiss him, trying so hard to apologize through your touch. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”
“hey. hey.” he soothed as he saw your tears. “you didn’t do anything wrong, okay? you don’t have to be sorry.”
“but you never gave up trying to talk to me, and i pushed you away every time.”
“because you were hurt in the past.” he spoke calmly, watching as you try to blink back your tears before they fell. “fuma told us about your guy’s upbringing, and i didn’t realize the effect that had on you until the last time we talked.”
“i missed you.” you admitted quietly, watching as his breath hitched at your words.
“i missed you too.” he admitted. “every time i’m in my room, i’m just brought back to that night over and over again.”
“i shouldn’t have left. i didn’t want too.” nicholas smiles at your confession.
“i should’ve been clearer about what this was.” he told you. “this wasn’t just one night, red. never was. i wanted you that night and every night since then, and i will want you just as much tomorrow.” you push down the fear at his words, nodding your head. you were ready to try. you wanted to trust him when he said he wasn’t leaving. he leaned his forehead against yours. “and i will tell you every day until you believe me because i’m not going anywhere.”
you push forward, pulling him closer to you as you kissed him. his hand splayed across your lower back, keeping you in place. he kept the pace slow– hand guiding your head how he wanted to, tilting your head back as his lips left yours. he kissed your neck, leaving marks on your sensitive skin. your hands let go of his jacket when you feel him shrug it off before throwing it onto the couch behind you.
he kept his kisses and touches slow, but they did become more heated– setting your skin on fire. his hands trailing down to your waist. “where’s your room, red?”
“behind you.” you answer, letting out a shriek when he threw you over his shoulder just like he did last time. “i have legs, you know?” you heard him chuckle as he opened the door. you thought that was the end of it, but you jumped when you felt a sharp pain. “did you just bite my ass?”
your back landed against the mattress as he threw you off of his shoulder, but instead of crawling on top of you, he stood in between your open legs, gripping your thighs before pulling your hips to the edge of the bed. his eyes, dark and glazed with lust, trailed over you, lingering on the exposed skin where your shirt rode up. you sit up, pulling the shirt over your head before throwing it behind you. he kneels in front of you when you take your bra off as well, hands roaming your body as he attached his lips to yours. the softness from before was slowly going away– him starting to roughly grip your breasts, rolling your nipple between his fingers and smirking against your lips when you moan into him.
“tell me, red.” he spoke as he pulled away from your lips– still keeping his hands cupped to your breasts. “tell me how much you’ve been craving for me to touch you again.”
you gasp when his lips suddenly attach to your nipple, sucking harshly before biting down hard enough to have you jerk in his hold. “so bad, weno. i had to keep myself b-busy constantly or my mind would drift to you. sleep was a nightmare.”
“my poor girl.” he teased, teeth nipping at your skin– tongue running over the marks. “it’s okay though. i’ll take care of you, red.”
“please.” you almost moan out when his hands unbutton your shorts. his mouth leaves yours before he pushes you back flat on the bed, motioning for you to lift your hips. he pulls them down, leaving you exposed for him– waiting as he ran his hands along your thighs.
“look how pretty you are waiting for me.” his voice rough as he pressed kisses to your thighs, biting down and causing you to yelp when you whine at his words. “you’re practically dripping onto the bed, red. you’re that desperate for me?”
you nod your head. “yes.”
“say please.”
“please.” you beg him.
“please what?” you nearly groan out when his fingers run along your soaked slit before pulling away. his fingers glistened with your arousal before he stuck them in his mouth, shamelessly cleaning you off of him– eyes closing in pleasure.
“please touch me.”
as soon as the words left your mouth, he latched to you like a starving man. the loudest moan left your lips at the action, back arching as his tongue flicks your clit. he hums at the sound causing a whimper to leave your lips at the sensation. your hands gripped the sheets as you try to ground yourself as you became overwhelmed with pleasure.
his tongue pushed inside of you, starting out slow before speeding up. a broken moan left you when you felt his piercing against your walls. you could tell he was loving the sounds, loving unraveling you by the tightening of his hands on your thighs– pulling you closer to his mouth. his hands held you open when you tried to close your legs when he curled his tongue. he heard your broken sounds, smirking when one of them sounded like ‘more.’
he curled his tongue one last time before licking a long strip up your core. one of his hands left your thighs, running down to your soaked core. he slid his fingers through your slick before thrusting two fingers inside of you, watching you as you sharply cry out in pleasure. his eyes watched you as he moved his fingers, curling them just right– your back arching at the feeling. his gaze stayed on you while his lips circled your clit, flicking and sucking at the bud.
“weno-” you cry out as his mouth and hand worked together as he brought you closer to your high. you could feel him smirk at every sound or movement you made, like watching you brought him as much pleasure as he was giving you. he had no intentions on stopping until you were clenching around his fingers.
every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire. your back arched when his fingers curled again. “w-weno. can i please- fuck?”
“can you please what, red?” he teased, knowing exactly what you wanted. he could tell by your trembling thighs and how tightly you were clenching around his fingers that you were close. “do you want to come?”
all you could do is nod your head, way to lost in pleasure. you feel him chuckle against your skin as he kisses along your thigh. “i can feel you shaking, red. just give into me. let me know how good i make you feel.”
that was all you needed to fall over the edge. you moan out his name, not weno this time, but his actual name. he didn’t know how bad he needed to hear you moan his name until it was falling from your lips. he groaned, helping you down from your high before climbing on top of you, capturing your lips. you could feel his erection through his jeans, twitching when you groan out his name again.
your hands trail down his torso, pulling at the edge of his shirt and helping him take it off. you do the same to his bottoms before you reach from him– trying to return the favor when he stops you. “not so fast, red. no moving until i’m inside of you.”
“but-”
“no buts, baby.” he stops you, eyes dark with need. you try again, but this time he grabs your hand– intertwining your fingers. “be good, or i’ll make you beg for it.”
but he doesn’t because a second later he’s sliding into you with one smooth thrust. his hips press against yours, lips kissing your face as you feel all of the air leave your lungs at the feeling of him inside of you. you choke out a gasp, feeling overwhelmed with the feeling of him– not thinking you would ever feel it again.
“there she is.” he coos, biting the lobe of your ear as he starts to move. “there’s my girl. so tight and perfect for me.”
you cling to him as his thrusts start going deeper as he speeds up– groaning against your skin like he’s been wanting this just as much as you have. like he’s stayed up all night, going over that night over and over until you pass out from exhaustion. “weno- mhm”
“that’s it.” his lips press against yours as he felt the stinging of your nails digging into his skin. “are you finally letting go for me, red?”
you nod, or at least you think you do. it felt like a blur. that could also be from the tears wheeling in your eyes. him moving inside of you like he owns every part of you– even the parts you tried so hard to guard from him. all of your reserve was slipping away with every thrust of his hips.
“do you feel that?” he questions, feeling the exact same thing you do. “that’s real. we are real. you don’t get to run anymore.”
you swallow your sob as you pull him down to your lips. the man above you was the only thing holding you together at this point, and you felt like he knew it by how tightly his arms were holding you. he groans against your lips when you clench around him– coming completely unraveled. “nicholas.”
“i know, my girl.” he whispers, feeling the same as you. “come on. give it to me again. i know you can.”
his hips meet yours one last time, and you feel him coat your walls at the same time that you come undone. you cling to him tightly as he helps the two of you come down from your highs, breathing heavy when he finally stills. his weight not heavy but grounding on top of you as he rests his head on yours. you felt one of the tears that you had been holding hit your cheek. nicholas of course noticing before wiping it away.
“hey now.” he murmurs softly as a couple more tears fall. “don’t cry, red. we’re okay. you’re okay.”
you could hear the underlining fear in his voice– scared that he pushed you too hard. maybe even scared you were going to leave again. “we’re okay.”
“i didn’t push too hard, did i?” you shake your head at his question.
“no. it- it was perfect.”
“good. because if you try to leave me again, i’m chaining myself to you.” you laugh at his threat, feeling as he lets out a breath of relief at the sound. like he knows that you aren’t running. you weren’t going to push him away again. “all seriousness. you can’t leave me after this like some sort of fucked up fairy tale.”
your hands run through his hair, something you’ve found he likes. “i’m not going anywhere this time.”
“damn right you’re not.” he kisses the tip of your nose before moving away from you. he got you clean and comfortable before he got into bed behind you, holding you tightly– pressing light kisses to your neck as the two of you let sleep take over. “goodnight, red.”
“goodnight weno.”
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━☆━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
three months later
“you move one more fucking time, and i’m tattooing dumbass on you.”
“your threats turn me on, baby.”
you roll your eyes, readjusting your legs where you were straddling nicholas. he has been begging you for the last two months to teach you how to tattoo, so you could tattoo him. it took forever for you to say yes. you practiced for many hours on practice skins before you even thought about inking him– with him teaching you every step of the way. so here you were, sitting on his lap in one of the private rooms while tattooing a design the two of you came up with together.
“you’re lucky i like you.” you grumble as the buzzing of the tattoo starts up again as you continue your piece. his hands were gentle, trying not to distract you as the rested on your hips.
“it’s a good thing you do because you’re stuck with me.” you glance up at him to see him smiling down at you– no smirk or teasing in sight. and since you had the machine away from his skin, he leaned forward to kiss your cheek. “and i’m not going anywhere.”
after three months of him being by your side, not only saying that but proving it multiple times a day, you believed him. “i know.”
“i’m proud of you, red.” you keep your focus on the tattoo, but preen at his praise.
“i don’t want to stroke your impossible ego, but i wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t for you. you’re very stubborn.”
he laughs at your words. “you started out cute. why did you ruin it?”
“i told you. i can’t let this ego get any bigger.”
you finish up the tattoo, cleaning it up like he taught you before climbing off of his lap. he looked at it in the mirror before turning to you. “you did so good. though i don’t expect anything less from my girl.”
he pulls you into his arms, leaning down before stealing a kiss. you pull him closer to you, not letting him pull away from you just yet. his arms wrapped around you, tucking you into his chest where you felt like you were meant to be. when you pulled away, you kissed the new tattoo– a mark on him caused by you, just like he marked you.
you didn’t realize what life could feel when you didn’t run. you don’t know why you didn’t stop sooner, but a part of you is glad you didn’t. because you may not have the man who was holding you like you were his whole world. “i didn’t believe you could make me feel like this.”
“like what?”
“safe. secure.” you answer before looking up and meeting his gaze. “and so stupidly in love with you.”
you feel him still for a beat, like he was trying to make sure you actually said that, and it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him. once he realizes you said that, he grins larger than you’ve ever seen as he brings his lips to yours, cupping your cheeks as he did so. “i love you too”
he pulls you back into him, and as his lips perfectly mold with yours, you realize something. you didn’t just stop running. you didn’t just stay. you chose him. and you weren't going anywhere unless he was by your side.
summary: when you entered college, you had two rules you followed. one: keep your head down and two: no boys. it was going as planned- until you were paired with a fellow student, maki, for a project. now here you were, crushing on the cute boy that you had no business crushing on while also trying to survive being thrown into his supernatural world.
pairing: werewolf!maki x human!femalereader
warnings/tags: strangers to lovers, college romance, lots of fluff (i don't think i've ever made something this cute), slight angst, no smut (shocking i know), like one kiss (this also felt weird)
word count: 13.4k
notes: this had been in my drafts for forever. this is also one of my oldest requests! sorry for the delay. i hope you like it! i may also be working on a request that will combine that and can also be a part 2 for this... likes and reblogs appreciated!
you let out a sigh as you walk into the class that you were forced to take. you needed a history class for your degree, and this was the only one that didn't make you want to burst into tears.
folklore and myth in human culture. it sounded interesting enough when you joined. and apparently a bunch of other people thought so too because the room was packed when you walked in. you kept your head down as you walk up the steps, taking a seat at the very back.
you pull out your laptop, pulling up the class when the professor walked in. you listen to him as he introduced himself before explaining what the class was. he then got into the part you were dreading the most. your final exam- it wasn't actually an exam. it was a project that you had to do with a partner.
"this project counts for 70% of your grade. that also means if you do good on it, you can skip the rest of the class if you don't care." he earned a few laughs as he explained the project. "you also can start working on it right now if you wanted to. the quicker you get it done the better. if you all look at the syllabus, you will see the outline of the project along with the partner i have picked out for you."
you skim over the syllabus, reading what you were supposed to do before looking for your partner- the part you were least excited for. you normally did things by yourself, but seeing how big your project was, there wasn't any way you could do it by yourself and score a decent grade.
you finally find your name, blinking slowly when you saw who your partner was- maki.
you glance up, staring down towards the front of the room where you knew he was sitting. he was sitting next to a couple of his friends, spinning a pencil in his hand, hoodie discarded next to him like it wasn't near freezing outside.
you two have had some classes together previously, so you knew who he was. he was quiet popular. he was always supporting a smile and was normally surrounded by his friends.
you could tell when he found his name on the syllabus, and you quickly looked back to your laptop when he turned in his seat to look towards you. you could feel his gaze on you, and you regret the moment you look back up to meet his eyes. you watch as he smiles when he catches your attention before bidding his friends goodbye.
he quickly climbs the stairs two at a time, pushing his hair out of his face when he stops next to where you were sitting. "yn, right?"
"yeah." you respond quietly, watching as he stretches out his arm. you look at him for a second before you shake his hand. his hand was warm and almost engulfed yours before you let go, moving your bag and allowing him to sit next to you.
"looks like we're partners. i'm maki."
"i know who you are." you say bluntly before you could stop yourself. you looked towards him when he laughed.
"good to know i have a reputation already." he says. you don't mention that his reputation involves him being late to class, that is if he shows up, yet still makes a's on everything. that and every single girl seems to be in love with him, but he rejects everyone. "so, when did you want to meet up for this project?"
you don't answer at first, and maki thought you didn't hear him when you turned towards him. "it doesn't matter to me. i'm free most afternoons."
"perfect! i already have some ideas, and i think you'll love them." he responds, watching as you nod your head slowly.
"o-okay. sounds great."
the two of you sit next to each other, elbows brushing occasionally as you two take notes of the professors lecture. you could feel how warm his skin was even though your jacket, causing you to look over a few times. you though he may be ill or something, but he didn't show any signs of it, so you just brushed it off as him just being naturally hot.
once class had ended, you had started packing up your things to leave when maki turned towards you. "so you're not going to ghost me before we even start this project, right?"
you shake your head. "no. i was actually going to... give you my number."
"good." he says, smiling at you as he pulls out his phone. he unlocks it, pulling up his contacts before holding it out to you. "there you go, shortie."
you raise your brows at the nickname, but you don't show him any other reaction as you take his phone, typing out your number before handing it back to him.
"got it." he saves it before putting his phone back up. "don't be surprised if i actually use it."
"i would hope you would." you respond, watching as he chuckles softly. you realize what you said causing your face to flush. "i meant for the project."
"of course." he smiles even wider when he notices your blush. he picks up his bag and swings it over his shoulder. "i'll see you later."
you went about the rest of your day, pushing maki out of your head as you did so. or at least you tried. you could still smell his cologne as it invaded your senses. you could still feel the warmth of him sitting next to you. even after you had taken a shower, settling into your small dorm room later that night.
you had just sit down at your desk, opening your laptop when your phone dinged from next to you.
you find yourself smiling at your phone, shaking your head when you realize what you were doing. you had rules that you liked to follow. you weren't going to break them for maki. you turned off your phone before continuing your homework.
the smell of coffee and baked goods hits you as you step into the warm coffee shop maki sent you to. you didn't spot maki which didn't shock you because you were early. you pick a corner table, sitting your bag down next to you before shrugging off your thick winter coat.
you had just pulled out your laptop and pulled up the guidelines for the project when you heard the door open, the cold air making you shiver. you didn't bother to look up to see who walked in, but you did when they sat in front of you. you meet maki's gaze as he slid into the chair in front of you.
"hey, shortie." he smiles at you, discarding his jacket and bag next to him.
"i have a name, you know?" you say, ignoring the small flutter from the nickname. you shouldn't like it. you don't even know this guy. you shouldn't let him have such an effect on you already.
"i know." he says with a smirk. "but shortie fits better. you're so tiny. it's cute."
you cough at his words, cheeks heating up at the compliment. you look away, ignoring his laugh as you pulled out a notebook. "so the project?"
"hold up." he stops you, taking the notebook away from you making you gawk at him. "we're not doing anything until i buy you a coffee. my treat remember?"
"and i told you that wasn't necessary." you respond as you hold out your hand for the notebook. he goes to hand it back to you, but snatches it away at the last second.
"i'm going to go get us drinks. there better not be a single word on this paper when i get back."
you roll your eyes, snatching the notebook out of his hand. "whatever you say."
he smiles as he gets up, not even asking what your order was. you thought about getting up to tell him, but by the time you thought about it, he had already ordered. you felt bad as you were normally picky about your drinks, and had a feeling you were going to hate whatever he ordered.
he walked back a few minutes later with your drinks, handing you the warm cup before sitting down. you let the cup warm your hands as you take a sip, looking down in confusion when the taste hits you. it's exactly what you normally order.
"did i do good?" you look up at maki's question, nodding your head.
"you did. it's what i normally order."
"lucky guess?" maki smiled before taking a sip of his own. you shrug, brushing it off as you sit the drink down. "you look like a caramel latte kind of girl, anyway."
"am i that predicable?" you ask. maki notices the small smile on your face, the first one he's seen on you.
"not at all, shortie. i just have a good eye when it comes to things like this."
you go to grab your pen, but it slips out of your fingers. it goes to roll off the table, but maki grabs it in mid air before it could hit the floor. he sits back up, handing the pen back to you.
you furrow your brows as you take the pen. "how did you catch that so fast?"
"fast reflexes." he responds with a laugh. "my friends always joke i'm part dog."
a small laugh escapes you. "i see it. you have a puppy aura."
"how do you think that, shortie?"
"besides the fact that you just caught that pen?" you ask with a small shrug. "i don't know. you're always smiling and happy. people tend to like you."
"are you one of them?" maki's question catches you off guard. you twirl the pen as you look down at your notebook.
"i don't you well enough." you answer, shifting in your seat. you quickly change the subject before you embarrass yourself any more than you already have. "so what's your idea that you'll think i'll love?"
"i don't think, shortie. i know you'll love it." he leans forward, resting on his hand as he studies your face. "how do you feel about wolves?"
you blinked as you looked up at him. "wolves?"
"they're everywhere." he answered. "old legends, folktales, stories from every culture. thought it'd be easy enough since there's so much information on them."
you thought about it for a second before agreeing. "wolves it is then."
he watches as you write down what exactly what you two were supposed to do for the project. you divide the work fairly between the two of you. it's only when you pause that maki speaks up again.
"are you always this quiet, shortie?" you look up at his question. he could tell you didn't like the question, so you diverted the conversation away from you.
"are you always this talkative?"
"only when someone's worth talking to." maki responds without missing a beat. you rub your face, clearly flustered at his words. he laughs as he takes a sip of his drink. "how's that impression coming?"
"this is going to be a long project."
"guess you're stuck with me then."
the two of you continue to work on your project until you two called it a day with plans to meet up at the library the next day, thought the two of you didn't get much done. you could barely work for more than 5 minutes before maki stopped you. he asked you question after question about yourself.
normally, this would annoy you. it was why you liked to work by yourself, but for some reason, his questions didn't bother you. you found yourself willing to answer him. you also found yourself waiting for them when you realized his pattern.
that pattern continued throughout the next day through texts. your responses became longer and longer as you opened up to him. you knew it made him happy because he voiced it multiple times, saying that your impression must be good because you weren't ignoring him.
you make your way from your dorm to the library, pulling your coat tighter around you as you walked. you once again expected to beat him because you were early, but you were surprised when you saw him leaning against the front of the library in nothing but a thin hoodie, a pair of headphones over his ears.
he looked up when you stopped in front of him, smiling as he took off the headphones. "you're early, shortie."
"don't sound so shocked." you respond.
"i'm not shocked. you just don't seem like the person who likes team projects." he tells you.
you shrug in agreement. "it's normally too much of a hassle."
"what about me?" he asks, making you roll your eyes, acting annoyed when you were far from it.
"i said normally, didn't i?" you question, shocking him. you shiver, pulling your jacket tighter as you walk towards the door, maki falling into step beside you.
"i don't see how you're standing out here. it's freezing."
"i'm just naturally hot." he answers, holding the door open. "i've always been like that. my mom hates it. when i was a kid, i always wore summer clothes all year round, even when it was freezing. how about you, shortie?"
"i'm the exact opposite. always cold." you answer, following him to the very back corner of the library where all of his stuff was already laid out. "did you have to pick the furthest corner of the library?"
maki shrugged as he sat down. "i like privacy, and there's a less chance of people eavesdropping when i'm saying genius things."
"i think you mean nonsense." you joked, watching as maki tries to hold back his laugh but fails. at least you two were far away so no one heard him when he laughed.
"okay, jokester. time to get down to business." he says after he recovers, motioning to his notes. "wolf myths. i found some stuff about how different cultures see them. most describe them as either protectors or monsters. depends on who's telling the story."
you nodded as you pulled your notes out of your bag. "i found a couple too. most of mine described them as loyal and territorial."
"you're right." he said making you look up at him. he was scribbling something down, almost not even aware he was talking. "they don't like outsiders near what's theirs."
it wasn't the words that caught your attention but the way he said them did. like he knew the feeling of what he was talking about. it made no sense to you as you looked back down at your notes.
"you sound like you're speaking from experience."
"maybe i am." he says with a small laugh. "i mean, we've only hung out twice, and you've called me a dog."
you gasp as you look up. "i did not! i said you had a puppy aura."
"same thing."
you take your pen and throw it at him, laughing when he dodges it. "just for that, you're a mutt."
he laughed as he grabbed your pen, handing it back to you. "that's a high compliment coming from you, shortie."
the two of you continue to work on your project for another hour or so. you stopped when you noted that the sun was about to set and people started packing up their things.
"i should head back." you tell him as you move to pack up your things. you put on your coat as maki leans back, watching you.
"are you walking alone?" you nodded your head at his question as you stand up.
"yeah, my dorm is just across campus."
he hesitated, making you stop in your tracks. you wait for him to say what was on his mind. "you should be careful walking back at night."
"why?" you shrug. "i do it all the time."
"this campus gets sketchy after dark." he answers. you didn't like his answer, but you chose to brush it off as you throw your bag over your shoulder.
"you sound like my ra." he didn't answer you, just staring out of the window that was next to your table. "if you're so worried, why don't you walk me back?"
you were teasing him, not thinking he would accept your offer, but you felt your face heat up the second the words came out of your mouth. maki didn't notice though, looking at you with a large smile, his mood instantly changing from whatever it was before to back to normal.
"sure, shortie."
"huh?"
he moved, standing up before grabbing his things. "let's go. i can't have my partner getting mauled by raccoons or something."
"i was joking, maki." you said, making maki turn and look at you.
"who said i was?" you roll your eyes, but you follow after him anyway. you jerk as you step outside, feeling as the temperature had dropped even more. you pull your jacket tighter, moving to pull up your hood when maki stopped you. "here. take this."
he digs in his bag, pulling out a beanie before handing it to you. you stare at it for a second before looking up at him. "are you sure you don't need it?"
"no. warm blooded, remember?" he smiles, moving to put the beanie on your head for you. your face flushes as his warm hands touch your cheeks as he pulls the beanie down. "there you go. can't have my partner getting sick."
"thank you."
maki shoved his hands in his pockets as the two of you walked back towards your dorm. you could feel the warmth radiating off him when his arms brushed against yours. "are you going to go back to being quiet on me shortie?"
you let out a small laugh. "i don't need to talk when you do enough talking for the both of us."
"fair enough." he laughed, bumping into your shoulder purposely. "do you always walk alone this late?"
"usually." you shrug. "but campus is pretty safe, so it doesn't bother me."
"pretty safe." he repeated with raised brows.
you look over when you hear him. you could clearly tell he doesn't believe you. "you're weirdly paranoid for someone who looks like they could take down a linebacker."
"take down a linebacker?" he says with a laugh. "you think i could take down a linebacker?"
"you sound like you want me to say yes so bad." you say, smiling when he nudges you again.
"not denying it."
you opened your mouth, about to say something when you noticed he had stopped walking. his head was turned to the right, looking at the trees on the other side of the small lake that you were walking by. you noticed the small shift in his posture, and it kind of freaked you out if you were honest.
"maki?" you question. his eyes quickly snapped to yours. "what wrong?"
he shook his head, moving back to your side. "nothing. i think it was a squirrel."
you didn't believe him, but you didn't push him even further, remembering that he was still a stranger to you. if he didn't want to tell he, he didn't have to. the two of you were silent as you walk the rest of the way to your dorm, stopping when you reach the steps.
"thanks for walking me."
"anytime, shortie." he responds with a smile. you could tell he wanted to say something else, but he didn't.
"i'll see you tomorrow in class?"
"wouldn't miss it."
the next day, you were walking towards your shared class with maki when you heard someone call your name. you turned with wide eyes as one of the other guys in your class, josh, ran up to catch up with you. you hadn't ever spoken to him before, so you couldn't imagine why he wanted to talk to you. he was like maki- popular around campus.
"hey, yn. you heading to class?" he said as he stopped in front of you.
you nod your head. "i would assume so. it starts in like 10 minutes."
he laughed at you, though you didn't think your words were funny. "you're cute."
"thanks." you give him a small smile. to say you were uncomfortable would be an understatement. it was weird that he came up to you and called you cute despite never talking before. it was even weirder that your mind immediately went to maki calling you cute, and how you felt now felt like nothing compared to then.
"so i was wondering if you wanted to grab some coffee sometime?" he asked with a grin. "there's this new cafe that just opened right off campus. figured it would be nice to talk outside of class."
his ask stunned you. "oh, um..."
"come on, yn." he encouraged, stepping closer to you. "it's just coffee. you need to take a break from school sometimes. it's not good for you."
you cleared your throat as you take a step back from him. "i'm sorry, josh, but i'm not interested."
"you got a boyfriend or something?" you roll your eyes at the question because of course that's the only logical reason a girl would reject a guy.
"no."
"then what's the issue?" you take another step away from him, about two seconds from walking away from him. you didn't owe him any reason for rejecting him.
"the issue is i'm not interested." you repeated, a little more forceful than last time.
you watch as josh open's his mouth to question you further but stops, glancing behind you. you didn't even have time to turn around before someone stopped next to you. and you didn't even need to look up to know who it was- maki.
"didn't peg you for the desperation type, josh." you look up at maki's words. his sharp glare was locked on josh, who was already glaring at maki. everyone knew that the two didn't get along, and you just so happened to get in the middle of it this time.
"just being friendly. isn't that right, yn?" josh asked. but since he didn't even bother to look at you, you didn't bother to respond, causing maki to chuckle.
"looked a little like begging from where i was standing." despite everything that happened, you shot maki a warning look. he looked down, finally meeting your gaze. he smiled at you despite the anger you knew he was feeling. "you okay, shortie?"
"didn't realize you were keeping tabs now, maki." josh responded, confusing you. you look between the two. what was that supposed to mean?
"someone's gotta make sure she doesn't get ambush her on the way to class." maki answered, placing his arm over your shoulder. you nearly lose your balance when he pulls you into his side, keeping you close to him.
josh scoffed, now glaring at the two of you. "whatever."
you watched him walk away before looking back at maki. "was that necessary?"
"was what necessary, shortie?" he asked, back to his normal self now that josh was gone.
"humiliating him."
maki shrugged. "he'll live. besides, he deserved it. you said no. he didn't listen."
"you're ridiculous."
"maybe, but at least i'm right." he answered. "now, let's get to class before i pick another fight."
he kept his arm around you as the two of you started to walk to class. you almost brushed him off but stopped when you felt his body warmth through your jacket. and you were cold, so you stayed close to him.
you pulled away from him when you got to the classroom before going to sit in your normal seat. you fully expected maki to sit in his normal spot next to his friends, but he didn't. he stayed behind you, sitting next to you.
class started without a hitch, but you couldn't bring yourself to pay attention. the professor's words went in one ear and out the other. maybe it was because you caught josh's gaze one too many times for it to be a coincidence. maybe it was the way maki had his arm thrown across the back of your chair.
you met josh's gaze again causing you to shift in your seat as you look back down at your poor attempt to take notes. maki notices, leaning down to whisper in your ear. "you okay?"
"yeah. why?"
"because you never answered me the first time i asked."
you look up, meeting his gaze. "it's not like i got a chance during your glaring match with josh."
"he deserved it." maki said, sticking to his defense. "he was pushing you. you said no. that should've been enough."
you looked away for a moment. "how did you even know we were talking."
"good ears." he responds, looking over at you when you chuckle.
"maybe your friends are right, and you are part dog."
maki covers his laugh with a cough, avoiding getting scolded by your professor. he leans over to whisper to you when he stopped. you followed his gaze to see that josh was staring at the two of you again, glaring when he saw maki's gaze before turning back to his notes. "can you do me a favor, shortie?"
"depends."
"be careful around him." maki responds. "he's not who you think he is."
"what does that mean?" you question.
maki went to answer when he was called on to answer a question from the professor. he looked away from you, answering the question perfectly. by the time he was done, he turned back to his notes, so you did to.
it was clear he didn't want to answer it, and maybe a part of you didn't want him to either. you and him were still strangers. you didn't have any right asking why the two didn't get along. it wasn't any of your business. though his words stuck in your head. especially when you got up to leave, catching josh watching you as you left.
after that, josh backed off for the most part. sure, you still saw him on campus, but he'd only nod at you before moving on. you just figured everything had went back to normal. him ignoring your existence, and you living peacefully not being in the middle of him and maki ever again.
maki, on the other hand, seemed to think of every excuse imaginable to not leave you alone. it started out with your project meetings lasting longer than they used to, going from one hour to even two or three. the two of you getting sidetracked talking about everything except your project. you two traded playlists, complained about schoolwork, and even had an argument about whether dogs or cats or superior.
"obviously dogs." maki answered. "besides, you did call me one after all."
somewhere along the way, you two got closer. the two of you now sitting next to each other and not on opposites sides of the table. his arm stayed draped on the back of your chair, sometimes even draping his arm over your shoulders. you realized how close you had gotten when you two reached for one of the books at the same time causing your fingers to brush. he didn't pull away, and neither did you.
"guess we've got good taste, shortie."
and lets not forget the fact that he walks you home after every session since they've been running later. every time, you tell him it wasn't necessary, but he always brushes you off.
today was one of the off days that you and maki didn't meet up, but he still kept up with you by text. you had mentioned that you started watching a new tv show, and he started watching it as well. so the two of you were comparing theories the better part of the afternoon.
you had just stepped out of the dining hall, starting to walk back to your dorm when it started sprinkling. you groaned, pulling up your hood over your headphones. you kept your eyes down, avoiding puddles that were forming when you bumped into someone. you lost your balance, almost falling when they grabbed you.
once you recovered, you pulled away, moving your headphones as you looked up. "oh, hey josh. sorry about that."
"it's fine." he smiled. you moved back, going to step around him when he grabbed your wrist, stopping you. "why are you leaving so fast?"
"because it's raining, and i don't want to get wet." you answer, glancing down at your wrist that he has yet to let go of yet.
"i can drive you back to your dorm if you want. my car's right there." he motioned behind him to the parking lot.
you shake your head, trying to get out of his grip but was unsuccessful. "no thanks. can you let me go now?"
"what's up with you and maki?" he asks, ignoring you completely.
"we're friends. not that it's any of your business." you say, snapping your hand away from him. it doesn't work leading him to tighten his grip on your wrist. "let me go, josh."
"he's a friend who keeps a possessive arm around you during class. a friend who chased me down and threatened me to stay away from you." he points out, getting more agitated as he spoke. "i don't think you should be friends with people like that."
you gulp, feeling scared as you became completely aware of your surroundings. you were alone with him, and it was dark. it was also a friday afternoon so most people had either went home for the evening or were out partying. you were like 3 blocks away from your dorm, and you doubt you could outrun him since you couldn't even get him to let go of your wrist.
"i- i want you to let me go and leave me alone."
"what nonsese has he told you about me, huh?" you flinch as he raises his voice. "you know, he's not the saint like everyone thinks. you don't even know who he is. what he is."
after every word, he raised his voice until he was almost yelling at you. his grip tightened, causing your hand started to go numb. your claw at his hand. "josh, you're hurting me."
his nails dug into your skin. you felt the sudden sting of something slicing across your skin. you glance down to see drops of blood dropping from your hand. "josh-"
you looked up, words catching in your throat at the sight of him. his face was shifted into something you didn't recognize. his eyes were narrowed on you, flecks of gold shining through the brown of his eyes. his teeth looked sharper, peaking out through his parted lips.
"josh?" you jumped back, forgetting the pain in your wrist when you heard a sound come from him. it was low, almost sounding like a growl.
"let her go." you jump at the sound of another voice coming from behind you. you were worried for a moment, until you recognized the voice as maki's. you hear his footsteps before he's standing beside you. josh doesn't listen and keeps his grip on your wrist. "do i need to repeat myself?"
maki grabs the wrist that is holding you, twisting it sharply. josh screams out in pain as he lets out go. maki pushes him away from you as you step back from him, hiding behind maki.
"leave."
you glance over his shoulder, watching as josh leaves with his wrist clutched to his chest. you look up at maki when he turns to look at you, his nose twitching before he looks you over.
"where are you bleeding?" you furrow your eyebrows at his question. how did he know that? you held up your arm to show him the small scratch on your wrist.
"i'm guessing his nails cut me." you shrug, pulling you sleeve down before dropping your wrist. you debated on asking maki if he saw what you saw but decided not to. maybe it was your fears playing tricks on you. "thank you for that."
"of course, shortie." he smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes like it normally does. "now lets get you back to your dorm, so i can clean up your wrist."
"you don't have to." you tell him as the two of you start walking causing maki to bump your shoulder.
"i know. i want to."
you look away as a blush crosses your cheeks. you felt his hand brush against yours like he wanted to hold it, but before anything happened, maki was yanked backwards. you let out a yell when josh hit him in the back of the head, knocking him unconscious. you ran over to maki as he hit the ground.
"maki!" you shake his shoulders, but he doesn't stir. "maki, wake up!"
"he can't save you now." you look back up at josh. his eyes were still glowing, so it wasn't a figure of your imagination. you took one last glace at maki, silently apologizing before running away. you hear josh laugh. "how did you know wolves love to chase?"
you didn't have time to question it as you ran back towards your dorm. your lungs screamed in pain, but you kept pushing. you were almost there when an arm wrapped around your waist. you feel the wind get knocked out of you as your body slams into a tree. you try to catch your breath, but couldn't due to the glowing gold eyes staring down at you.
"you know..." you flinch as josh's hand grips your chin. "this wouldn't have happened if you had just said yes."
"fuck you." you grit, yelping when josh slams you into the tree again. you try to pull away when he leans down, but his grip won't let you. his breath brushes against your cheeks for a second before he was ripped away from you.
you nearly fall over now that josh wasn't holding on to you. you look over to see maki on top of him, hitting him repeatedly. he quickly knocked josh unconscious and didn't show any signs of stopping his attack. you look around to see if you could find someone to help you, but you didn't see anyone.
"maki!" you keep your distance as you raise your voice. you see his raised arm stutter in the air before he drops it. he gets off of josh, keeping his back to you. you look at josh for a second waiting to see the rise and fall of his chest before looking back at maki.
"maki?" you question, taking a step towards him. you stop dead in your tracks when he looks at you. his eyes were glowing yellow just like josh's did. "your... your eyes."
at your words, his eyes quickly returned to their normal brown color. "yn, please let me explain."
you shake your head, stepping back when he tries to get close to you. there was too much going on around you. you felt like you were going to be sick. you knew that maki wouldn't hurt you, but right now, you couldn't see past what had just happened. just that his eyes were the same as josh's, and josh just attacked you.
before he could try to stop you, you turned around, running back to your dorm. this time you made it without being stopped, and you didn't stop until your back was against the door to your room. your hands shook as you locked the door, tears blurring your vision as you back slid down the door.
your hand pressed against your chest as you tried to slow your breathing. you couldn't even began to comprehend what just happened, jumping when your phone buzzed from your pocket. you took it out, eyes locked on the screen as you watch as maki's text come through, but you couldn't bring yourself to answer him. it wasn't until his last text came through where he was begging you to respond to him.
you throw your phone on the floor right next to you when something catches your eyes. the dried blood on your hand. it was then you remembered josh hurting you. the cut was small, but you still got it cleaned up before bandaging it.
what were they? you knew neither josh nor maki were human- the glowing eyes and sharp teeth proved it. and the fact that josh's nails were able to draw blood so easily didn't make any sense to you. you didn't want to believe that any of this just happened. you wanted to believe that it was some sort of nightmare. that when you went to sleep, you would wake up knowing that everything was a dream.
but it wasn't.
when you woke up after a night of actual nightmares of what happened, along with the wound on your wrist, you knew that it wasn't a dream.
you tried to focus on normal things. homework. cleaning your dorm. anything to get your mind off last night. every time you stopped, your mind wandered back to it, hand nearly reaching for your phone to call maki. you wanted answers, but you also wanted space. you just couldn't figure out what you wanted more.
you glance out the window, watching the rain pound onto the window. the sun had set a couple of hours ago, leaving you practically alone on campus since it was a saturday night.
you stood up, abandoning your work as you look out the window. like you though, there wasn't a single person outside, or so you thought. you turned to go back to your work when something caught your eye. some movement by the trees next to your dorm.
at first you thought it was nothing, but you saw it again. a dark shadow before two eyes appeared from the darkness. they looked just like josh's glowing amber eyes causing you to stumble back, nearly tripping on your rug.
you shut the curtains before finding your phone, pulling up maki's contact. screw the space you asked for. you jumped in place as you listened to it ring. he picked up on the second ring. "shortie? are you okay?"
"maki, there's someone outside." you heard shuffling on his end before hearing a door slam.
"where?"
"by the tree line."
"i'm on my way." you let out a sigh of relief at his words. "stay away from the window. is your door locked?"
"yes." you answered. "please hurry."
"i won't let anyone hurt you, shortie. i promise." he said before hanging up. you kept your phone clutched in your hand, chest tightening at his promise despite the situation you were in.
it didn't take him but a few minutes to get there from wherever he was. you jumped when someone knocked on your door, panicking before you heard maki call your name. you unlock the door before opening it.
his chest was heaving like he had ran here, rain dripping from his hair. his eyes met yours as he slipped into your room, locking the door behind him. you stood there, watching as he scans your room before looking out your window. once he was sure there wasn't anything near you, he turned back to look at you.
"i don't see him, but you're okay. i'm here now." you nod your head at his words. he then sees your hands clutched tightly around your body as they shook. your eyes locked onto the floor, refusing to meet his gaze. he didn't hesitate to walk over and pull you into his arms. you stiffened for just a moment before relaxing into his arms, resting your head on his chest. "i won't let anything happen to you. you're safe with me."
"was it him?" you question.
"i ran straight here, so i'm not sure. i have a friend checking it out." he answered. your face flushes at the thought of him running here in the pouring rain just to make sure you were okay.
you don't know how long you stayed wrapped in maki's arms, but the moment was ruined when you heard someone knock on the door. you jumped, feeling as maki's arms tightened around you before he recognized who it was. he stepped away from you, and it took everything in you to not dive back into his arms.
"it's okay, shortie. it's just fuma. he's the friend i was talking about." maki assured you before he went to the door. once he unlocked it, he opened it just enough for fuma to slip inside before locking it again.
fuma was completely unfamiliar to you. his size was similar to maki's, but he was older, more serious than the boy next to you. his dark eyes met yours, and his head dipped as he gave you a soft smile before looking to maki. "tracks end at the trees. whoever it was is gone."
"they were close enough to see her."
fuma's gaze flicked to you again, noticing how close maki stood to you, protecting you. "then it wasn't random."
"do you think it was josh?" you ask maki. his features darken at even the thought of him watching you.
"maybe. or someone from his pack."
your brows furrowed at the word pack, but you didn't have time to question it because fuma spoke up. "we'll figure it out. in the meantime, stay here with her for tonight. don't let her out of your sight."
"wait- what?" you question, looking between the two. he expected you to just let maki stay here and watch over you?
maki looked down at you with a pleading expression. "just for tonight. please."
"fine." you grumbled, not sounding happy at the idea. fuma gave you one last glance before moving to the door.
"don't keep her up to late, lover boy."
maki glared, but by the time he looked at fuma, he was already gone. he moved to lock the door, and when he turned around, he spotted you by the window. you peak through the closed curtains, eyes going straight to where whoever that was standing there before. you didn't see anything or anyone, so you closed the curtains before moving to sit on the bed.
"you want to tell me what the hell's going on?" you look at maki who looked like he fully expected that question, but he also looked like he didn't want to answer it.
"do you really want to know?"
you nodded. "please tell me the truth."
"josh and i... we're not human. not completely at least." he answered, watching as you nod your head.
"i kind of figured that part out. the glowing eyes really gave it away." maki huffed at your words, not expecting your joke. "so what are you?"
"werewolf." he answered honestly. he watched your reaction. it was almost like you didn't want to believe it, even though you had seen it multiple times at this point. "we hide it, or at least we try to. humans aren't supposed to know about us, but josh lost control last night."
you let out a laugh of disbelief. "what did you just drag me into, maki?"
"i'm sorry, shortie. you were never supposed to find out. i tried to keep them away from you." maki apologized as he sat at your desk that was right by your window. "i didn't think they would go after you."
"and who is they?" you ask.
"josh's pack." he answered. the two of you had done enough research about wolves for you project that you knew what a pack was. "they're different from my pack. they're not the biggest fan of humans who find out about us. even if it's against the rules."
that caught your attention. "so you mean to tell me josh screwed up, and now his pack is after me? what are they going to do?"
"nothing." his answer was immediate. "they're not going to lay a hand on you. i promise."
"how are you so sure about that?"
"not only would they have to go through me, but now they're dealing with my pack." he tells you. "they'll protect you. just like how i'm going to."
you nod, coming to terms with that. it was then that a thought hit you. "guess you really are part dog, huh?"
"i kind of walked into that one, didn't i?" maki asked with a laugh. you responded to a laugh of your own before fighting a yawn. you're lack of sleep is finally catching up with you. maki stood up, turning off the lights before he shifted his seat, so he could watch both the door and the window. "get some sleep, shortie. you're safe with me."
you didn't argue, shifting under your bedding. you thought it would be weird having someone in your room watching over you while you tried to sleep, but it wasn't. maybe because it was maki. all you know is you didn't have a single nightmare like the previous night and slept peacefully knowing you were safe. because even though maki was a supernatural creature that shouldn't exist, he made you feel safer than anyone else ever has.
the next week were not only a big adjustment for you, but for maki's pack as well. apparently josh's pack went into hiding which put them all on edge, and since you were the last person who they tried to go after, that also put you on edge. that also meant that you had someone from his pack following you when maki wasn't around- mostly fuma. you had only met fuma and one other member, k.
when he was around, which he was more often that not, he was glued to your side. he did try to keep things as normal as they could possible be between the two of you, but you could tell he was always alert. the other day he heard a sound behind one of the bookshelves at the library, and he nearly scared the life out a freshman when he went to check it out. you almost thought it was a little excessive, but through the bits of information maki has given you about them along with what you've asked, you realized you were wrong.
you were walking back to your dorm. you would say you were alone, but you knew fuma was following you, having seen him when you exited your last class of the day. you knew he wouldn't follow you into your building. you knew this because you asked him one time if he wanted to come in because it was freezing, and he said no. well, he said he didn't feeling like dealing with the fit maki would throw, but you took that as being the same thing.
you had just made it to your room, unlocking the door when you noticed something making you stop. someone had been in your room. your things had been ransacked and thrown everywhere. you felt a chill, looking over to see that your window was left open.
you take a step back, going to leave and run downstairs to grab fuma when you backed into a chest. you nearly scream before turning around, but let out a sigh of relief when you realize that it was fuma.
"my god fuma. you couldn't have said that it was you?" you try to calm your racing heart.
"sorry." he mumbled. "i saw the open window and came running."
fuma slid past you, careful not to step on any of your things as he examines the room. whoever it was didn't leave any sign of who they were, leading fuma to close your window before turning to you.
"maki said that you guys can tell who people are based on their scent. can you tell who it was?" you ask as you step into the room.
"i don't recognize the scent, but it's probably someone from josh's pack." he says as he pulls out his phone. "pack some things. you're staying with us until we get this figured out."
you didn't have any chance to argue before fuma walked out of your room. you did what he said, packing your things when you heard the door open again. you didn't bother looking, figuring that it was fuma again.
"maki's going to meet us back at our place." you nod at fuma's words but don't respond. this was getting to be too much for you. last week, you knew nothing about any of this. you were just trying to get through your project with maki without getting any feelings for him. now, you trying not to get attack by supernatural creatures that shouldn't exist while still trying not to fall for maki- though you were pretty sure you had already failed the second part. "yn, are you okay?"
you stop for a moment before glancing at him. "i'm as okay as i can be, i guess. it's not everyday you get thrown into things that belong in books."
"you're handling this well for a human. i thought you would've had a breakdown by now."
you laugh at his blunt words as you finish packing. "oh just wait. i'm sure it'll hit me eventually."
"just make sure maki's around to comfort you." he tells you, making you scoff as you head towards him with your bag. he instantly takes it from you before the two of you leave your room.
you stayed quiet the entire way to their 'pack house' as maki calls it. you didn't know what to expect. you had only formally met three of the pack if you included maki. that still left six others that you haven't met before. you didn't like that you were intruding into their space knowing what you do about wolves, but fuma didn't give you much of a choice.
you step out of the car, following fuma as the two of you walked up the driveway. it was a nice house, something you couldn't even think about living in. you couldn't even bring yourself to ask how they afforded something like this before fuma opened the door for you. you slid in behind him. you heard faint talking before hearing the sound of maki's voice.
he turned the corner, eyes instantly finding yours before he rushed to your side. just him standing next to you was enough to calm you enough to not freak out over what was happening. "are you okay?"
"i guess." you answer, stepping into his side when you notice that two other people had joined. he looked at you before glancing behind him.
"guys, this is yn." he introduced you. "shortie, this is nicholas and ej. ej helps run the pack with fuma."
"nice to meet you." you said, continuing to stick close to maki when they stepped forward. the shorter one, nicholas, smiled at you before nodding to maki.
"it's nice to finally see who this kid hasn't shut up about."
"really dude?" maki groaned in embarrassment. you felt your face blush as you let out a small laugh. at least you weren't the only one affected.
"it's nice to meet you, yn." ej said with a smile. "i'm sorry that this has happened to you, but we're doing everything we can to fix it."
"what happened?" nicholas asked the two of you.
"someone broke into her place." fuma answered. "came in through her window. i didn't recognize the scent."
"i wonder if you could bring the others. see if they recognize it." ej thought before turning to you. "would that be okay, yn?"
you shrug. "do what you have to do."
"maki, why don't you help yn get settled?" maki nodded at ej's request.
"come on, shortie." maki said, grabbing the bag from fuma before grabbing your hand. you glance down as his very warm and large hand almost engulfs yours. "you're staying in my room."
"where will you stay?"
"in there with you. i'm not letting you out of my sight anytime soon, shortie, so you better get used to this handsome face." you laugh at him as he leads you down the hallway. "i have a couch that i'll sleep on, so you can have the bed. and no arguments about that."
you close your mouth because he knew exactly what you were going to say. maki laughs at your expression as he opens the door to his room, letting you go first. it was a typical boy's style room, random decorations that didn't go together and clothes lying on the floor.
"sorry about the mess." he apologized as he set your bag down. "i wasn't expecting company."
"and i wasn't expecting to have someone break into my place, but here we are." you mumble as you sit on the couch, unsure on what to do or even how to act. how were you supposed to act?
maki could tell that you were freaking out. he walked over to sit next to you, reaching over to wrap his arm around you. "hey. i know this is a lot, and i'm sorry that you were dragged into this. but i will figure this out. i promise."
you blink back tears, trying to not cry in front of him, but it didn't work. he let out what sounded like a pained sigh before pulling you into his arms. he could hear your quiet cries as you clung to him as he tried to comfort you with his words, but the angle you two were at was kind of awkward. he didn't think twice before sliding his arm under your leg and lifting you into his lap. he felt your breath hitch, but you didn't show any signs of discomfort causing maki to pull you closer.
"i'm not going to let anything happen to you, shortie." he mumbled against your hair. "i promise."
"i know. i trust you." you lifted your head for a second, pressing a short kiss to his cheek, shocking him.
you didn't know how long you stayed in lap, wrapped in his arms. it was long enough for you to fall asleep and for it to be dark outside. you would think that he would've set you on the bed and not hold you the entire time, but when you looked up, you noticed that he was asleep as well.
you let your eyes trail along his face, taking in his features. the feelings you were trying to convince yourself not to have were fully making itself known, but you knew he wouldn't feel them same. you two were completely different. you were quiet, and he was loud. he loved being around people while that made you anxious. you knew he was only trying to comfort you from the mess he dragged you in. so once this was over, the two of you would complete your project and go your separate ways, though you really didn't want that.
a knock on the door broke you from your thoughts. maki's arms tightened around you as he heard the sound, pulling you closer to his chest before he realized what it was. he loosened his arms to let you climb out of his lap. "did you sleep well shortie?"
you could hear the teasing in his tone making you roll your eyes. "i could ask you the same thing. you have a little drool right here."
"i do not." he argued as he stood up, but you laughed when you saw him wipe at the spot you pointed at before opening the door. you recognized k. "what's up? did you find anything?"
"not yet." k answered as he stepped into the room, smiling when he saw you. "you're just the person i wanted to see. ej said that we could go to your place to see if we could figure out who broke in. we need the keys."
"yeah, that's fine." you answered, standing up before walking to grab your keys for him. "here you go."
"perfect. i'll let you know when we find something. just stay low until we do, okay." he told you before turning to maki. "and i'm sure you know what your job is."
maki glared at him when k mumbled something only the two of them could hear. maki grabbed him by the arm before shoving him out of the room. you could hear him laughing as maki slammed the door in his face before turning to you.
"you hungry?"
and so began your stay with maki and his pack. you did eventually end up meeting all 9 of them, and even though they were all nice, you tended to stay close to maki- not that he let you far out of his sight anyway. the only time you were by yourself was when you had other classes, and even then you got messages from maki every 10 minutes asking if you were okay. and by the time you left the room, he was waiting for right outside of your class.
you thought it would be annoying seeing now that you were staying with him you now didn't have any alone time, but it didn't. maybe it was your stupid feelings getting in the way, but the more time you two spent together, the harder it was for you to be away from him. it brought you back to the hard thought of what you were going to do when all of this was over. you thought you had time to figure that out and get used to that idea, but you didn't.
you had just left your last class of the day when you noticed maki tuck into the corner talking to fuma. they looked like they were arguing over something. you didn't want to bother them anymore than you already were, so you walked down the hallway to the bathroom.
you had just made it to the sink when you heard the door lock. you looked up when you noticed a shadow behind you, making you jump, but before you could scream for maki, they had their hand over your mouth.
"shh. we don't need to make this any harder than it needs to be. i just want to talk." you look in the mirror to see that it was josh, a large black hoodie covering most of his face. "i'm going to talk my hand off, and we're going to talk like normal people. okay?"
you slowly nod your head, not knowing what else to do. he smiled as he pulled his hand away, watching as you shove him away- getting as much distance as you could from him. "what do you want?"
"to apologize for attacking you." he says. "i had just had an argument with my pack and was mad, and i took that out on you."
"do you expect me to believe that?" you ask making him shrug.
"i know you're still new to this whole wolf thing, but you need to know that my pack and maki's pack are completely different. my alpha tends to be more animal than human, and i'm one of the more level headed members which is why i'm here."
you step back again when he tries to get closer to you. "why are you here?"
"to show you what you're causing." he answered. "you are going to get maki killed by being around him."
"what?"
he pulls out his phone, showing you the live stream they have of the pack house. "we've been watching for the past week. we know who drives what. who sleeps where. they wanted to attack soon, but i convinced them not to."
you feel your hands start to shake as he tells you this. "how?"
"if i can convince you to leave completely without telling them, we'll leave both them and you alone. if not, i send a text right now and they attack the pack house." he explains.
"you want me to leave?" you ask, watching as he nods his head. "and if i don't."
"then we tear his world apart, and i'll make sure you're close enough to watch me kill all of them. you don't want that, do you?" you shake your head. "i knew you were smart. you have 2 days to disappear or else we attack. oh, and if you tell him, the deals off."
you stand there, frozen as you watch him leave the bathroom. you didn't know what you were supposed to do. you didn't want to leave, not only because of maki but because of school, but josh didn't leave you with much choice. if you didn't leave, they would hurt, or even kill, maki and his pack. you couldn't be the reason that happens.
you don't know how long you stand there staring at the door, only stopping when you hear a knock on the door. "shortie? are you in here?"
"just a sec." you answer, grabbing your bag you dropped before exiting the bathroom. he's standing in front of the door, brows furrowed as he looks down at you. "are you okay?"
he nods his head. "yeah, just thought i smelled something."
"what do you smell, puppy?" you ask, laughing when he glares at you playfully. "hey, you're the one who's always using dog terms."
he lets out a low laugh, throwing his arm over your shoulder. "well then why don't you lead your dog to get some food. i'm starving."
you have dinner with him before going back to your dorm after you told maki you needed to grab more things if you were to keep staying with him. you grabbed all of your important things, shoving them underneath your clothes.
you waited until everyone was asleep before you made your move. you wrote a note for maki, leaving it on his desk. you made sure not to specify why you were leaving, just that you couldn't be the reason why anyone gets hurt.
you walked over, quietly thanking him before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. you then grab your things and leave the house. josh didn't specify where you needed to go to, so you were just going to go home. you never told maki where you were from. it was over an hour away from school, and you knew your parents wouldn't question why you came back suddenly.
you didn't think it would hurt so bad leaving, like you didn't feel right. there was a knot in your chest that won't go away, along with the nausea that won't disappear. you knew it was just guilt from disappearing suddenly. you just hoped that maki understood.
you had just gotten home and somehow fallen asleep when you suddenly woke up in a panic- all of the guilt you were feeling was somehow intensified. you chalked it up to maybe a nightmare when your phone rang. your chest twisted when you saw that it was maki. you watch as it goes to voicemail before reaching to listen to it, but something stopped you.
you saw a shadow move out of the corner of your eye. you quickly throw the covers off of you, trying to run out of your room when an arm wrapped around you, throwing you into the door before covering your mouth. you look up to see some older man you've never met.
"is this her?"
"it is." you glance behind him, stomach twisting when you noticed it was josh. "hello shortie."
that was the last thing you heard before you felt a sharp pain in the side of your head, knocking you unconscious.
you wake up with a jump, groaning when your head starts pounding. your vision is blurry as you open your eyes, glancing around confused when all you saw was concrete. you had no idea where you were.
your memories hit you, josh's pack kidnapping you, causing you to sit up and tucking yourself into a corner. you were in a small cell in what looked like a basement that was only lit by a single light. in front of your cell was josh, sitting in a chair along with a short woman you didn't know.
"good morning." he smiles when he notices you were awake. "it took you long enough to wake up."
"what- you said you would leave me alone if i left." you say, jumping when the woman let out a laugh.
"i will admit, josh. none of us thought your plan would work when you told us how smart she was." she said as she stalked towards your cell. "haven't you read enough stories to know to never trust a wolf?"
"you let your feelings for maki jumble your mind." josh agreed with her. "you should've never left him. now you're leverage."
you shake your head, panic gripping at your chest. "he won't come looking for me. i wrote a letter telling him to leave me alone."
"i figured you would do that, so i took some initiative." josh stood up from his chair and pulled your phone out of his pocket. he pulled up the messages between you and maki, showing him a photo of you unconscious. "our scouts say they're scrambling to figure out where you are. it would be so easy to attack them right now-"
"don't." you scramble to stand up, gripping the bars in front of you. "please don't."
"aw, the human is concerned for her mate. how cute." your head snaps towards her.
"my what?"
josh lets out a low groan. "alpha didn't want us to tell her that."
"what's it going to hurt? they'll both be dead soon anyway." she shrugged. "he said we couldn't hurt her physically, but not mentally. look at her. she's seconds away from crumbling."
"why would i trust you? you just told me not to." you say, making her laugh.
"you're learning. maybe you are smart." she said as she stepped closer to you. "do you feel that in your chest? the constant panic? that's the bond. you are feeling what maki is feeling right now."
you shake your head. "you're lying."
"what about the constant pull you feel towards him? the way you only feel calm is when you're near him?" she questions, nodding when you made a face. "that's what i thought?"
"does- does he know?"
she nods. "of course he does. he knew it from the moment he saw you. makes you wonder why he hasn't told you yet? maybe he's ashamed to have some weak human as his mate. i know i would."
"so now you know why we needed you so bad." josh says. "we have you. he and his pack will come like a magnet which is just what we want."
as much as you didn't want maki and his pack to come because you knew they would get hurt, it brought a comfort to you to know that he was coming from you. even if you were upset that he kept something so important from you.
"why do you want that so bad? what did they do?" you question.
both of them stayed silent until she spoke up. "it wouldn't hurt to tell her."
"a few years ago, we lost a pack member, our alpha's brother. once we tracked whoever did it, we found a camp that had signs of maki's pack there." josh explained.
"why would they kill him?" you ask. you had been around them long enough to know that none of them seemed like the type to kill someone.
"they said they didn't. claimed they were there tracking hunters when they found that camp." josh answered.
"any you don't believe them?"
"our alpha doesn't." she answers. "he wants someone to take responsibility for it."
"even if it's people that didn't do it? your alpha sounds like an idiot." you jumped when she growled at you, but you held your ground. "go ahead, mutt. you said you were going to kill me anyway."
she took a step towards you, eyes flickering gold when josh stops her. "hey. you know we can't hurt her."
you met his glare as he pulls her out of the room, leaving you completely alone. you slide back down the wall, rubbing at your chest. you now knowing that all of the panic was just you, but maki's as well.
mate. you have read about it enough times to know what it was, but you didn't think something like that existed. you also didn't think wolfs existed either. you thought you were just attracted to him, something that started out as a crush but turned into more, but it wasn't. it was a bond you didn't know existed.
even now you feel it- the pull towards him. you felt the frustration and panic that he was experiencing, and you were sure he that you were feeling the same thing. except he didn't know some of it was because of him. he let you wander in the dark about this, knowing that you felt everything he did. he didn't give you any warning or even a hint, but for some reason you couldn't bring yourself to be mad at him.
you don't know how long you sat there, eyes closed as you rested your head against the cold concrete. eventually, you guess you fell asleep because you jumped when you heard a loud bang above you, causing the ground beneath you to vibrate. you heard yelling and growling as there was fighting going on above you.
then you felt it- the pull in your chest getting stronger. you instantly understand that it meant maki was here along with his pack. you couldn't feel relief when you heard the fighting getting closer to the door in front of you. the door jerked as it sounded like someone was slammed against it. you scoot backwards, hiding in the corner as you hear the door open- eyes watering when you saw who it was.
"maki?" you get up, watching as he runs towards the cell. his foot slams into the door making you jump as the cell door flies open. as soon as he steps into the cell, you don't hesitate to fling yourself into his arms. "i'm so sorry i left. he said he was going to hurt you. i didn't think-"
"it's okay." he whispered, trying to soothe you. his arms were wrapped tightly around you as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head. "i'm just glad you're okay. i don't know what i would do if something happened to you, shortie."
"i'm sorry." you apologized again as he pulled away from you. his hands were warm as he cupped your cheeks, wiping away your tears.
"it's okay. just don't leave me again, okay?" you found yourself nodding which caused him to let out a sigh of relief. he went to pull you into his arms again when you noticed someone else come into the room, or more like something else. a black wolf with the same golden eyes that you were now used to was staring at you. you froze causing maki to turn to see what you were looking at. "don't freak out, shortie. that's k. he going to help me make sure you get out of here safely."
you nod your head, still slightly freaked out about the wolf in front of you. you knew that they were werewolves, but for some reason, you didn't expect them to turn into actual wolves. "you left out the small detail that you guys turn into actual wolves."
"i did?" he asked making you glare at him. "i thought that was a given though."
"clearly not."
"sorry, shortie." he apologized. "we need to get out of here. do you trust me?"
you let out a small sigh. "yes."
"i'm going to ignore that sigh." he mumbled slightly offended. "it isn't pretty out there, and i don't want you to see that. so i need to carry you, so you can close your eyes."
you really didn't need to think about it. you felt like the last 12 hours was enough to scar you for life- you didn't need to add to it. "okay."
once maki lifted you into his arms, you rested your head on his shoulder before closing your eyes. it was then that k led the way out of wherever josh's pack was keeping you at. you pulled closer to him when he stepped outside- the clothes you were wearing doing little to keep you warm.
"we're almost there." maki told you. you heard a car door open before you felt warm air hit you. "you can open them now."
you opened them as he sat you in the back seat of the car before motioning for you to move to the middle. you did as he said, noticing that fuma was sitting next to you as maki got into the car. as soon as maki shut the door, you guys took off.
"how are you holding up?" you look over to fuma with a shrug.
"okay. i guess."
"you really are a lot stronger than i thought you would be." he smiled, noticing that your hands were shaking. he shrugged off his jacket before throwing it over your lap. you thanked him before you heard a small sound come from maki making fuma laugh. "maybe next time come prepared."
you glance over at maki who was glaring at fuma confused until it hit you. of course he would be jealous since you were his mate- the thing he just so happen to not tell you. you felt a sharp pain in your chest at the words that girl said. that he didn't tell you because you were nothing but a weak human.
you saw maki look over at you in concern, but you didn't look over at him. you kept your gaze on the road until you saw the pack house. you give the jacket back to fuma before climbing out of the car, or at least you tried to. maki had you back in his arms before your feet could touch the ground.
"you're not wearing shoes, shortie." he said when you looked at him. you didn't respond which you could tell concerned him, but you allowed him to carry you, which he didn't put you down until you two were back in his room. "are you okay?"
"i'm fine." you answered, walking over to the bag you left behind to grab some clothes. "i'm going to take a shower."
you dodge his hand as he tries to stop you, locking the door of the bathroom before taking a shower. you stood there under the hot water until it turned cold before getting out. when you opened the door, maki was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, looking up when he heard you open the door.
"is it over?"
he nods. "none of them will bother you again."
"then why am i here?" you ask, trying to give him one last chance to tell you the truth before you were to pry it out of him.
"it's late, and our place was closer. plus, the guys are still on edge about you being kidnapped. i'll bring you back in the morning if that's what you want." you scoff at his answer.
"even now you can't tell me the truth."
he looked over with a confused look. "what do you mean, shortie? fuma and ej had to somehow convince all of us from just charging after you."
"why though?" you ask. "i've only been here for a few days. that isn't really enough time to become friends with them."
"i don't know if you know this shortie, but you're very likeable."
"oh for fuck's sake." you groan. "tell me the truth, or am walking out that door, and i am never coming back."
your statement made maki pale. "you know, don't you?"
"what gave that away?" you retort. "i had to find out from the people that kidnapped me instead of you. i have been feeling all of these impossible things that could've been explained if you didn't keep that i was your mate from me. did you just not care?"
"don't say that." maki was in front of you before you could even blink. "don't say that i don't care because i do. i've been caring since the moment i saw you. you were sitting outside reading a book between classes. you had a pink dress on with a matching bow."
you tilt your head, vaguely remembering that. you had just gotten that dress and only had it for a few months before the zipper broke. "maki, that was freshman year almost 2 years ago. you kept me in the dark for that long?"
"i didn't want to. trust me." he begged. it's just- it was right after we got into it with josh's pack. it would've put a target on your back. i was going to stay away from you for as long as possible to keep you safe, but then we got paired up. and once i started spending time with you, i knew there was no way i was letting you go."
"so why didn't you tell me after i found out about all of this?" you ask, taking a step away from him to try and get some breathing room.
"i can feel you emotions, shortie." he answered. "this past month has been nothing but fear and confusion. me telling you before would have made you more scared and pull back from me. i know it."
"then you really know nothing about me." you take another step back before sitting on his bed. "you know, there was a woman down there with josh. she was the one who told me- said you knew since the moment you saw me. she then said she wasn't shocked that you didn't tell me because you were ashamed that i was a weak human."
maki crouched down, grabbing your hands. "i would never be ashamed of you, and you are not weak. you are the strongest person i know. it makes me proud to be your mate."
you lean forward before brushing some hair out of his face. he freezes when your hand cups his cheek. he relaxes, eyes softening when you lean forward before he closes the gap.
the kiss was slow and soft. your lips tasted just like the vanilla chapstick he always sees you use and wondered what it tasted like. your hand falls from his cheek before resting on his shoulder as his hands rest on your cheeks, subtly pulling closer to you.
"you may have a point." you admit quietly as you pull away from him. "i have been really freaked out over everything, and i probably would've freaked out about this too. but i wouldn't have pulled away from you. i just- i would've liked to hear that from you and not someone else."
"i know, and i'm sorry that you didn't get to hear it from me because i was too scared to tell you. i will never hide anything from you again." you knew maki was being honest- you could feel it in your chest causing you to smile.
"you better because i still have so many questions." you say before letting out a small yawn.
"i will answer everything. i promise." he says. "but you need to get some rest. we'll talk in the morning."
he goes to get up, but you grab onto his wrist, stopping him. "stay."
"shortie, i'm just going to the couch. i'm not leaving you." he tells you, but you shake your head as you keep your grip on his wrist. he understands when you glance to the bed behind you. "you mean stay with you."
you nod before letting go of his wrist. "please."
"of course. come one."
you get in bed while maki turns the lights off before slipping into bed behind you. he doesn't even think before his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into him. he freezes, going to apologize when you roll over and tuck your head beneath his chin.
"have i ever said i like how warm you are?"
"so you're just using me for my built in heating system?" you laugh, moving to kiss his jaw before tucking your head back into his chest- preventing you from seeing his large smile.
"maybe, but that's not the only reason."
he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him- his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. the both of you knew that you still had a long way to go, but as you fall asleep in his arms, you felt like for the first time in weeks that everything was going to be okay.
This idea came to me after watching the thing they did with the heart rates and staring at each other in the eyes, watching Kei fall to his knees after looking at Fuma, gave me a lot of ideas. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, here’s the link to it ~ link ~
Summary: As a werewolf, there are two things more important than life itself: your pack, and most of all, your soulmate (aka mate). After losing his first pack, Kei managed to find another one, one consisting of himself and his eight packmates. He almost had it all, except for his mate. At 27 years old, he had still not found the person that would complete him, he had almost given up, all until one of the younger members came home carrying a scent that drove him insane.
Warnings: Reader is shorter than Yudai, reader is a little younger (though not really mentioned), some violence, some jealousy, a lot of yearning, mentions of blood and Kei loosing his previous pack, a little angst but mostly fluff, I think that’s it.
Wordcount ≈ 16k
Please reblog!
2. Yuma. 3. Euijoo EJ extra 4. Jo. 5. Nicholas 6. OT9 Special fic 7. Fuma 8. Harua 9. Maki 10.
Third Person POV
Koga Yudai, also known as Kei, stood on the edge of the village, the hem of his coat brushing against frostbitten grass. Dawn crept slowly through the trees, painting the quiet world in gold. Smoke curled from chimneys, the scent of cedar wood and morning stew thick in the air.
It was peaceful here. Hidden. Safe. A small village tucked deep in the forest, beyond the reach of humans and rival packs. A haven, carved out by teeth, blood, and time.
Kei hadn’t always had that.
At sixteen, his world had ended in a night of fire and screams. His first pack, a tight-knit group that had raised him, shaped him, loved him, was slaughtered in a raid. He had been the only one to survive, dragging himself through the woods, half-feral, lost. For years, he ran wild, a ghost with claws. Until he crossed paths with Euijoo.
Kei still didn’t understand how the pack leader had seen through the monster he’d become. But Euijoo had offered his hand instead of his teeth. Fuma, the second in command, had flanked him without fear, and the rest had followed.
That was seven years ago.
Now, it was like they’d always been his.
Their village wasn’t large, just a handful of cottages, a communal hall, a small training yard, and a perimeter ringed by ancient trees. The pack built it themselves, stone by stone, and protected it like instinct. It wasn’t just home. It was proof that survival wasn’t the same as living.
Euijoo, calm and clear-eyed, ruled with a quiet strength. He didn’t have to raise his voice to be heard. Fuma’s his presence was strong and secure, helping lead the pack more through actions than words. The younger wolves had energy to burn: Nicholas and Yuma sparred more than they fought, their rivalry loud but harmless. Taki and Harua were inseparable, a storm of laughter and limbs, loyal to each other in a way that needed no words. Jo was their balance, the calmness that washed away doubt, always with a hand on someone’s shoulder or a cup of tea waiting by the fire.
Then there was Maki, the youngest. Still finding his place, still figuring out when to lead with his teeth and when to listen. Kei had taken him under his wing without being asked. Not out of duty. But rather out of instinct.
Kei wasn’t the leader. That was Euijoo’s role. But he was something else. A pillar. A presence. The one they turned to when they needed guidance, or comfort, or someone to spar with at midnight when sleep wouldn’t come. They weren’t blood, but they were pack.
Kei watched as Maki stumbled out of one of the smaller cottages, hair sticking up at odd angles, hoodie halfway on, yawning like a bear. A few seconds later, Taki and Harua came crashing through the trees, already arguing about something, and Nicholas was whistling from the rooftop, a bow slung over his shoulder and absolutely no reason to be up there except to annoy Yuma, who was clearly looking for him.
Kei smiled faintly. This was what he had fought for. What he had bled for. A home. A family. The only thing missing was a mate. But for now, this was enough.
~~~
The scent of cooked rice, eggs, and grilled fish drifted through the village like a homing beacon. Kei followed it to the communal hall, the air inside already warm with laughter, clattering dishes, and the subtle hum of pack energy.
Maki stood by the long wooden table, setting down a tray with a proud grin. Fuma hovered just behind him, arms crossed, his usual stoic expression softened by the faintest trace of approval.
“Smells amazing,” Kei said, ruffling Maki’s hair as he passed. The younger wolf beamed.
“Thanks! Fuma taught me how to not burn the rice this time.” Fuma gave a low grunt that might’ve been agreement, or just tolerance.
By the time the others returned from their morning patrols, mud-splashed, leaf-dusted, and half-awake, the table was full. Plates were passed around, hands reaching, elbows bumping, the familiar chaos of a family that had learned to share space like breath.
Kei took his usual seat near the end, flanked on one side by Jo, already deep in a quiet discussion with Euijoo, and on the other by Harua, who looked less like his usual energetic self and more like someone about to face a firing squad.
“You okay?” Kei asked between bites.
Harua shifted in his seat, poking at his food. “I’ve got that interview today. The one at Kyomei Weekly, you know, the big one. Real big.” He glanced around the table as if the others might somehow overhear even though they were all within arm’s reach.
“You’ve been talking about that magazine for months,” Kei said, his voice low, calm. “You’re ready.”
“Yeah, but what if I choke? What if they ask something like, ‘Where do you see yourself in five years?’ and my brain just… collapses?”
Kei chuckled. “Then you tell them what you told me last week, something about wanting to tell stories that matter.”
“That sounds cheesy.”
“So do most good things,” Kei replied.
From across the table, Taki leaned in with a smirk. “Tell them your biggest strength is that you can smell lies.”
Yuma snorted into his tea. “Or just growl when they ask about your weaknesses. Super professional.”
Harua groaned and dropped his forehead onto the table. “You guys are not helping.”
“We’re helping in our own way,” Nicholas said, flipping a boiled egg into his mouth like a coin. “I’d hire you just to stop you from crying.”
“I’m not crying!”
“Yet,” Jo added, sipping his tea with maddening serenity.
Kei chuckled again, then gently pushed Harua’s plate back toward him. “Eat. Then we’ll go over a few common questions. I’ll help you figure out answers that feel real, not rehearsed. You don’t have to be perfect, just honest. You’ve got charm, Harua. Use it.”
“You’re gonna do great,” Maki chimed in from down the table. “And if they don’t hire you, we’ll all show up in wolf form and scare them into reconsidering.”
Fuma raised an eyebrow. “No.”
“A little?” Maki tried.
“No.”
More laughter erupted, light and easy, and for a moment, it was as if nothing else existed beyond this hall, this table, this pack.
Kei sat back, his plate mostly empty, content to watch his family, because that’s what they were, bicker and tease and lift each other up. They had all lost something once. Now they had each other.
And that, for Kei, was almost everything.
~~~
An hour after breakfast, the village settled into its late-morning rhythm. The warmth of shared food and teasing laughter faded into quiet footfalls and purpose.
Harua, dressed sharper than usual and armed with Kei’s pep talk, left for his interview with a nervous grin and one last dramatic groan. “If I bomb, just pretend you don’t know me,” he joked. The pack responded with thumbs-ups, a howled “Good luck!” from Taki, and Maki shoving a pre-packed lunch into his hands like a mother hen before dashing off to catch the bus. Only a few months left of school, then Maki would graduate, finally free of textbooks and exams.
By mid-morning, the village felt calm again. Fuma, Jo, and Yuma had already scattered to their jobs outside the territory. Euijoo and Nicholas were hunched over the pantry shelves in the communal building, murmuring about dry goods, canning jars, and the alarming rate at which the pack went through rice. Soon they’d head into town for a supply run.
That left Kei and Taki.
The clearing behind the training yard was quiet, tucked between old trees and shaded by thick mossy branches. It was a space the pack used when someone needed to focus, no distractions, just nature and the steady pulse of the earth.
Taki stood in the center of it now, bare feet shifting on damp grass, brows furrowed in concentration. His shirt was already tossed over a low branch, sweat beading on his collarbone.
“I don’t get it,” he muttered, frustrated. “I feel the shift, it starts, but then it just stops halfway. Like something’s jamming the gears.”
Kei crossed his arms, watching him carefully. “You’re overthinking it. You keep trying to force the wolf to come forward, like you’re ordering it around.”
“Shouldn’t I be? Isn’t that the whole point?”
Kei shook his head slowly. “No. Shifting isn’t about domination. It’s about trust.”
Taki looked at him skeptically. “With what? Myself?”
“Exactly.” Kei walked into the clearing, slow and steady, voice low and sure. “The wolf is part of you. Not a tool. Not a mask. You have to meet it halfway. Let it rise on its own terms.”
Taki dropped into a crouch, exhaling hard, frustration tight in his shoulders. “Feels like everyone else got it figured out already.”
Kei crouched beside him. “Maki couldn’t shift until he was fifteen. Nicholas still gets stuck halfway if he’s stressed. Fuma won’t admit it, but it took him years to shift without pain. Everyone struggles. You’re not broken, Taki.”
That landed. Taki blinked, throat bobbing slightly. “Yeah, well… it just sucks.”
“I know,” Kei said gently. “But you’ve got me. We’re going to do this together.”
Kei shifted first, fluidly, without strain. One second he was crouching; the next, his wolf stood tall and calm, slate-gray with streaks of black, eyes a sharp yet thoughtful gold.
Taki sat back, watching him, awe flickering across his face even through the frustration.
Kei padded forward, nuzzling Taki’s shoulder gently before sitting back on his haunches.
“Okay,” Taki whispered. “Let’s try again.”
The younger wolf closed his eyes. This time, he didn’t strain. He took a breathe, slow and deep, finding that space inside him where instinct lived. His fingers curled. His spine shifted just slightly. Not all the way, not yet, but enough that fur began to ripple over his arms.
Kei let out a quiet encouraging sound, tail thudding softly on the earth.
Taki opened his eyes. “Did it start?”
Kei nodded once.
Taki grinned, bright and boyish and proud.
They still had a long way to go.
But they were moving forward.
Together.
~~~
By the time the sun dipped past its peak, the village was alive again with footsteps, voices, and the quiet rhythms of return.
Euijoo and Nicholas had come back first, both arms full of grocery bags, Nicholas grumbling theatrically about the weight of rice sacks while Euijoo organized the pantry with efficient calm. The smell of fresh vegetables and warm bread filled the kitchen space, a domestic contrast to the wild that surrounded them.
Not long after, the soft thud of boots and the low chatter of voices signaled the return of Harua and Maki. Kei looked up from the porch where he’d been oiling the hinges of one of the outer gates. Harua’s stride was light, energized, his jacket slung over one shoulder and a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Maki trailed beside him, head tilted down, muttering something under his breath.
“…and of course they put me with Kenji, who hasn’t read a single article in the last month. Why is it always me who gets stuck carrying the project?”
Kei gave them both a nod, rising to meet them as they stepped onto the path between the cottages. “Welcome back,” he said, eyes going straight to Harua. “How’d it go?”
Harua puffed out a breath, then broke into a grin. “It was good. Like, really good. I wasn’t even nervous once we got going. I remembered what you said, about being honest. I just… talked. Told them what I care about, the stories I want to tell.”
Kei’s eyes softened. “That’s all they want. Someone real.”
“They said they’d get back to me in a few days. But I think-” Harua hesitated, then smiled again, more reserved. “I think I’ve got a shot.”
“You’ve got more than that,” Kei said, clapping a firm hand on his shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”
Harua ducked his head, clearly trying to hide the warmth that rose to his face. “Thanks.”
Before the moment could stretch into something too serious, Maki groaned dramatically and threw his bag into the dirt. “School was the worst. Can we not talk about responsibility for like five minutes?”
“You’ve been home for ten seconds,” Kei pointed out.
“Exactly! That’s ten seconds too many.”
Taki appeared from behind one of the cottages at just the right moment, twirling a practice staff in one hand. “Wanna go spar?”
Maki’s face lit up. “Always.”
They took off with the reckless energy only young wolves could summon, yelling half-baked challenges and rules that would be forgotten before the first swing landed.
Kei watched them go, a smile pulling at the edge of his mouth.
Harua watched too, arms crossed, a fond sigh escaping him. “You’d never guess they’re both technically adults.” “They are,” Kei said. “They just haven’t let it harden them yet.”
Inside the kitchen, Nicholas called out, “Oi! Who left rice on the floor? This is sacred!” “Not me!” Maki’s voice echoed from the clearing. “Suspiciously specific denial,” Yuma called from somewhere down the hall.
The sun dipped lower, and the shadows stretched across the ground like lazy wolves curling up to nap. Kei leaned against the post of the porch, arms crossed, the steady hum of his pack all around him. They were home. They were his everything.
~~~
The village was still half-draped in morning mist when the sound broke through the air. A long, unrestrained howl, bright and raw with joy.
Kei was already up, standing in the yard helping Euijoo sort through some broken fencing panels when the howl echoed through the trees. It was sharp, unburdened, and loud enough to send a flock of birds fluttering from the nearby canopy.
Euijoo paused, one brow raised. “That’s Harua.” “Definitely not a distress call,” Kei said, already smiling. From the cottage to the right, Fuma stepped out, coffee mug in hand. “It’s not even six. He’d better be dying, ecstatic, or both. The other’s aren’t going to be happy about waking up like this,”
The three of them made their way toward Harua’s home, stepping over dew-wet grass as the morning light slowly peeled back the shadows. They found him standing barefoot in the doorway, phone still in one hand, grinning like his face might split in half. His hair was a mess. He was still in pajama pants. He looked euphoric.
“They hired me,” he said breathlessly, eyes bright with disbelief. “They hired me!” Kei didn’t hesitate, he strode forward and wrapped Harua in a crushing hug, lifting him slightly off the ground. “You did it!” he said, pride thick in his voice.
Fuma clapped him on the back, hard enough to make Harua stumble a step, but the smile he wore was rare and warm. Euijoo just nodded, arms folded, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Congratulations. You’ve earned this.”
Harua beamed, running a hand through his hair. “They want me to start next week. Junior writer position for the lifestyle section, but they said they liked my pitch ideas and might let me run a feature if things go well. I-I didn’t think this would actually happen.”
Behind them, another door slammed open. Nicholas stepped out, wrapped in a heavy blanket, his hair a wild mess, eyes bloodshot. “Why,” he growled, “are we howling before sunrise? Is someone dead? No? Okay. Then I’m going back to bed.”
Harua winced. “Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t help it.” “Help it next time,” Nicholas grumbled, already turning back inside. “Dreams die when I’m sleep-deprived.”
Once he was gone, Euijoo chuckled softly. “We’ll celebrate tonight. Full dinner, no excuses. Harua, you pick the dessert, anything you want,” Kei clapped his hands together. “I’ll start prepping after patrol. We’ll make it a real pack meal, something to remember.” “Can I tell the others?” Harua asked, suddenly bashful. Euijoo nodded. “You should.”
As they started to walk away, Harua stopped Kei for a moment. “Thanks. For believing I could do this.” Kei placed a hand on his shoulder. “You did all the work. We just made sure you didn’t forget who you are.” Harua’s smile lingered long after the others had gone, still holding his phone like it might vanish if he let go.
That evening, the village would glow with laughter and firelight, plates piled high, and voices raised in toast. Because when one of them rose, the rest rose too.
~~~
The fire cracked and danced at the center of the village, tall flames licking upward into the star-drenched sky. Sparks rose like tiny spirits before fading into the dark. Around it, the pack had gathered, laughing, eating, moving in the rhythm of joy that came so rarely and meant so much.
The long tables were overflowing with food. Roasted vegetables, grilled meat, fresh bread, sticky rice wrapped in leaves, everything made by their own hands, grown or hunted or brought home with purpose.
Kei sat on a thick log beside Fuma, a shared bottle of plum wine resting between them. The two of them watched as Maki and Taki tried to out-dance each other, limbs flailing in ways that were more chaotic than graceful. Harua was pulled into the mess, yelping between laughter, while Nicholas and Euijoo finally gave in and joined, Euijoo surprisingly nimble, Nicholas groaning dramatically but smiling all the same.
Across the fire, Jo was in his usual place, sketchbook balanced on one knee, pencil moving quickly. He rarely joined in the dancing, but he was always watching, always recording. He liked the company, but his sketchbook was probably his first love, the most important thing in his life.
Kei’s gaze lingered on the fire for a moment. He used to hate it. The scent of smoke, the roar of flame, the color of it. Orange-gold like the inferno that had devoured his first home. That night still lived in the back of his mind: the screams, the ash, the impossible silence that followed.
But now, the fire didn’t claw at his heart the way it used to.
Now it was laughter echoing through the trees. It was Maki and Taki rolling through the grass. It was Euijoo helping Jo sharpen his pencils, Harua balancing two plates at once while trying not to drop either, Nicholas trying, and failing, to sneak another rice ball without being seen. It was Yuma sneaking up on Maki and Taki, trying to scare them. It was Fuma, quiet and watchful, sitting at Kei’s side with a rare softness in his eyes.
Kei reached forward and added another log to the flames. It hissed, caught, and glowed warm. Fuma glanced at him. “Still okay?” Kei nodded. “More than okay.” He tilted his head back, watching the stars, the firelight flickering over his face. The warmth soaked into his skin, into his chest, deep enough to ease the ache that always sat there.
“I used to think I’d never feel at home again,” he admitted, voice low, just for Fuma. “But this… this is home.” Fuma didn’t say anything for a moment, then offered the bottle again. “You helped build it.” Kei accepted it, taking a slow sip. The sweet burn of the wine lingered.
A beat passed, filled with the crackling of wood and distant, joyful shouting. “All that’s missing,” Kei murmured, almost to himself, “is someone to share it with.” Fuma looked at him sidelong. “Mate?”
Kei nodded slowly. “If they’re even out there.” “They are,” Fuma said, simply. “You’ll find them. Or they’ll find you.” Kei didn’t answer. Instead, he watched the others, letting their voices and the firelight settle over him like a blanket. And for the first time in years, he let himself believe it might be true.
~~~
The weekend passed in a blur of leftover desserts, lazy naps in the sun, and quiet chores that balanced the wild joy of their celebration. But as the sun rose on Monday, the air in the village shifted, still calm, but laced with anticipation.
It was a school day for Maki, another round of training for Taki, a quiet work-from-home start for Jo, and for Harua, it was the beginning of something brand new.
Kei found him in the front yard just before seven, dressed in a crisp white shirt tucked into black slacks, hair styled neatly but already fighting to curl again in the morning humidity. Harua’s phone was in one hand, his work bag slung over his shoulder, and nerves practically radiating off him.
“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” he muttered. “You’re going to be fine,” Kei said as he approached, keys dangling from his hand. “They already hired you. That means they like you.” Harua glanced over. “You sure you’re not just saying that because you have to?”
“I don’t have to say anything,” Kei replied with a small grin. “You’re going to do great. Just be you, smart, annoying, overly curious you.” Harua rolled his eyes. “Comforting as ever.”
Kei led him to the car, a simple, reliable black SUV that had seen more muddy roads and mountain trails than city streets. Harua got in, smoothing his shirt like it might crease from existing.
They drove in silence for a bit, trees whipping past the windows as the road stretched toward the edge of the forest and into the city beyond. The sun peeked over the hills, bathing everything in a soft golden hue. The silence between them was easy. Comfortable.
“You working today too?” Harua asked eventually. “Yeah,” Kei said. “Got a shoot downtown, some athletic brand. Mostly standing around in clothes I’d never wear.” Harua snorted. “You love it.” Kei shrugged, smirking. “Pays well. And I only have to deal with people three times a week. The rest of the time I’m home.”
“You ever think about doing it full time?” “No,” Kei said without hesitation. “I like being able to come back. Full-time modeling means traveling constantly, being away from the pack. It’s not worth it.” Harua nodded, silent again for a moment. “It’s weird, huh? We’re all trying to live in two worlds. The human one and ours.” Kei smiled faintly. “We do more than try. We make it work.”
They reached the building not long after, a tall, glass-fronted office that gleamed under the morning sun. Harua stared up at it with wide eyes. Kei pulled to the curb and parked. “You want a pep talk?” “No,” Harua said, gripping his bag tightly. “I’m good.”
Then he paused. “Maybe a tiny one?”
Kei chuckled. “Just breathe. Stay alert. Be kind but don’t let them walk over you. And if anyone makes you feel small, remember you’ve outrun bears in the woods and wrestled Taki into submission.” Harua laughed, tension easing slightly. “Thanks, Kei.” “You’ve got this,” Kei said. “Call if you need anything.”
Harua gave him one last grin before stepping out onto the sidewalk. Kei watched him walk into the building, head high, the morning light catching on his hair. Then he pulled back into the lane and headed toward his own day, his thoughts already wandering, not to the cameras and clothes, but to the village waiting for him, the pack, the forest… And still, always, that quiet space beside him, waiting for someone else to fill it.
~~~
The lobby of the building was sleek and modern, tall windows letting in golden morning light, polished tile floors reflecting it in a subtle glow. Harua adjusted the strap of his bag nervously as he approached the front desk. His boss, a sharp-eyed woman named Ms. Nakamura, was already waiting for him with a small but welcoming smile.
“Harua, good morning,” she said briskly. “I’ll help you get set up with your ID badge and then we’ll do a quick tour. We like to keep things running smoothly here.” “Of course,” Harua said with a quick bow. “Thank you again for the opportunity.”
The badge was a small rectangle of plastic with his name and picture already printed on it, he thought he looked vaguely terrified in the photo, but it would do. He clipped it onto his shirt collar and followed Ms. Nakamura through the halls.
She walked fast, heels clicking against the floor as she pointed out break rooms, emergency exits, the copy center, and the editorial wings. Harua did his best to memorize everything, though the buzz of nerves made it difficult.
Finally, they arrived at a large open office space bathed in soft overhead lights. Cubicles lined the walls, while plants and posters gave the place a cozy, creative energy. Ms. Nakamura gestured toward a corner desk, already set up with a monitor, some files, and a half-empty coffee mug.
“You’ll be working with (Y/n). She started just last week. You’re both new, so I’m hoping you’ll help each other settle in.”
Harua followed her gaze to the person standing beside the desk. (Y/n) looked up from her computer, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She was maybe a few inches shorter than him, dressed in a simple blouse and jeans, her expression friendly but cautious.
She smiled. “Hey.” “Hi,” Harua said quickly, bowing again. “I’m Harua. Nice to meet you.” “(Y/n),” she replied. “Welcome to the chaos.” Ms. Nakamura gave a nod. “I’ll leave you two to it. Be sure to review the orientation packet before lunch.”
Once she was gone, Harua exhaled and turned back to (Y/n). She was already watching him, but her gaze wasn’t judgmental, more like she was quietly taking his measure.
“Nervous?” she asked. “Terrified,” he admitted. She laughed. “Good. That means you care. I was a wreck on my first day too. Still kind of am.” Harua smiled, easing into his chair. “Guess we can be wrecks together.”
And from there, it was easy.
The two of them clicked faster than either of them expected. Within the first hour, they were swapping jokes about how stiff the elevator music was, how intense Ms. Nakamura’s schedule looked, and which coffee machine made the least awful brew.
(Y/n) was smart, quick-witted, and surprisingly open for someone new. She had moved to the city from a smaller town to chase her dream of writing for something that mattered. Harua found himself relating to her immediately.
By lunchtime, they were already teasing each other like longtime friends. They ate together outside on a small terrace, sharing lunch and stories, though Harua carefully sidestepped anything that might hint at his werewolf identity.
Still, when she laughed at something he said, really laughed, Harua felt something small and warm settle in his chest. He wasn’t alone in this new place. And as the hours passed and the day wore on, it didn’t feel so much like the start of something terrifying anymore. It felt like the beginning of something good.
~~~
The sun had long since dipped behind the trees by the time Kei returned home, muscles aching from the long shoot. He parked the car beside the house and stepped into the familiar quiet of the village clearing. The scent of woodsmoke and wild herbs lingered in the air, grounding him. He walked inside and was met with warmth, laughter echoing from the living room, the clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen. Kei slipped off his shoes and followed the voices.
In the living room, Harua was practically vibrating with energy, hands flying as he recounted his day to Jo and Yuma.
“-and then she said the same thing I was thinking, like exactly! It was weird but in a good way,” Harua was saying. “I haven’t clicked with someone that fast since… well, ever.”
Yuma leaned in, clearly invested. “And she’s cute, right?” Harua shrugged but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at his mouth. “She’s cool. Really cool.” Jo didn’t look up from his sketchbook, but the corners of his lips twitched in amusement. “You’ve said her name like twelve times in the last five minutes.” Harua flushed. “Shut up.”
Kei smiled faintly at the scene, rubbing the back of his neck. It was good to see Harua so animated, so alive. The boy had always been passionate, but this was different, brighter.
He made his way into the kitchen, nodding at Euijoo and Fuma as he passed. Maki was standing by the stove, trying to stir a pot without burning his fingers. Kei reached over and gently moved his elbow away from the steam from the other pot on the stove.
“Easy, you’re not fireproof,” he said softly. Maki grinned sheepishly. “Almost done! It smells good, right?” “It does,” Kei agreed, ruffling his hair before stepping away.
Dinner came together in a warm, loud chaos, everyone returning home in waves, filling the house with noise and movement. Plates clattered onto the table, voices overlapped as stories were told, laughter bouncing off the wooden walls. It was routine. It was family.
And then everything changed.
Harua sat down beside him at the long wooden table, the scent of soap, city air, and something unfamiliar still clinging to his skin. Kei turned slightly, smiling to ask how the rest of the day had gone.
And the world tilted. It wasn’t Harua’s scent. It was something on him, something clinging to his clothes, his hair, his skin, like he’d walked through it and carried it unknowingly into the house.
Kei’s breath caught. His vision blurred. His inner wolf lunged forward, feral and wild and full of longing, growling so loud inside his head it drowned everything else out.
Mate.
Kei’s fingers tightened around his chopsticks, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. His lungs burned. The scent was intoxicating, like the forest after rain, like lightning and warmth and home. His wolf clawed at his chest, desperate, howling to run, to find the source.
“Kei?” Harua turned toward him, concern flickering in his voice. “You okay?” Kei blinked. His eyes flicked to Harua’s, and he forced himself to breathe, to sit still, to not give into the need to shift and sprint into the woods like a madman.
“Yeah,” Kei said, voice tight. “Just tired.”
Fuma shot him a subtle look from across the table, sharp and knowing. Kei didn’t meet it. He couldn’t. Not yet. He glanced back at Harua. The scent was definitely not Harua’s, but it was on him, wrapped around him, like the echo of someone else. Someone Kei hadn’t met. Not yet.
His mate was real. And they were close.
~~~
The stars were already out when dinner ended, the last dishes cleaned, the laughter fading into the cozy quiet of the night. The house had settled down, some of the younger wolves retreating to their rooms, others sprawled across couches or outside under the moonlight.
Kei was slipping on his jacket near the door when Euijoo’s voice came, calm but firm. “Kei. Come outside with us.” Fuma stood by the doorway, arms folded, already waiting.
Kei nodded silently and followed them out into the cool night air. The crisp scent of pine and damp earth filled his lungs, grounding him in the moment. They walked a short distance away from the house, stopping near the edge of the woods where the trees cast long shadows in the moonlight.
No one spoke at first.
Finally, Euijoo broke the silence. “Tell us what happened.” Kei leaned against a tree, folding his arms tightly. “It was the scent. It hit me the moment Harua sat beside me.” Euijoo and Fuma both stilled. “My wolf, he nearly lost it,” Kei continued, voice low, almost ashamed. “He screamed ‘mate.’ It was overwhelming, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. But I managed to calm him down. Barely.”
Fuma rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “The scent wasn’t Harua’s?” Kei shook his head. “No. It was on him, but not from him. Something he picked up today. Someone. If it had been Harua’s scent, I would reacted to it years ago,”
Fuma and Euijoo exchanged a glance. “That girl,” Fuma said quietly. “The new coworker. He talked about her the entire dinner. Said they got along like they’ve known each other forever.” “(Y/n),” Kei said, the name tasting strange and heavy in his mouth, like it had weight now. “He mentioned her a few times.” Euijoo exhaled slowly. “That would make sense. Harua hasn’t been around anyone outside the pack since he graduated. And the scent was unfamiliar to you, but potent.”
“If it is her,” Fuma added, “it means your mate is human.” Kei flinched slightly, not out of fear, but out of the quiet truth of it. He hadn’t even dared to imagine it. For years, he believed his mate must have died long ago. The thought that they might be out there, living, and close, was more than he could absorb in a single breath.
“She doesn’t know about us,” Euijoo said. “Harua hasn’t told her anything. He’s being cautious.” “As he should,” Kei murmured. “I don’t even know if it’s her yet. I only smelled what she left behind.” Fuma’s gaze sharpened. “But your wolf thinks it is.” Kei met his eyes. “Yeah. He’s sure.”
Silence stretched between them, filled only by the gentle rustle of wind in the trees. Euijoo stepped forward and placed a hand on Kei’s shoulder. “If it’s her,” he said, “we’ll support you. But you need to be certain. You can’t rush this. Especially not with a human.” “I know,” Kei said. His voice was steady, but his hands curled into fists. “I’ll be careful.”
Fuma nodded. “For now, see what Harua says. Don’t push. If she’s your mate, the bond will pull you together in its own time.” Kei let out a long breath, the tension easing from his chest just enough to breathe freely. “Thanks,” he said, quietly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost control.” “You didn’t,” Euijoo said simply. “And that’s what matters.”
They stood there for a while longer, the three of them watching the stars overhead. Somewhere in the distance, a nightbird called, and the forest answered.
And Kei, his heart still racing, his wolf still restless, let himself hope. That maybe, his destined someone was actually out there.
~~~
Kei found Harua out back, sitting on the porch steps with a cup of tea, his legs pulled up to his chest and his eyes fixed on the moonlit clearing. It was late, most of the pack already in bed, the house behind them quiet except for the occasional creak of wood and the hum of insects. Kei stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him, then stepped outside and let the door close softly behind him.
“Hey,” he said, voice low. Harua turned and gave him a smile, tired but still warm. “Couldn’t sleep?” “Not really,” Kei admitted, sitting down beside him. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Kei didn’t rush it, Harua was always easy to talk to, but this wasn’t a small thing. He had to get it right.
“I need to tell you something,” Kei said finally, eyes fixed on the trees ahead. “Something that happened during dinner.” Harua turned slightly, giving him his full attention. “Yeah?” Kei’s hands were clasped between his knees, fingers locked tightly. “When you sat down next to me tonight… I caught a scent. It wasn’t yours. It was on you, but not from you.”
Harua blinked. “Okay…?” “My wolf reacted immediately. Like, violently. It was like he snapped awake after years of silence. And he only said one word.”
Harua’s eyes widened, realization dawning. “Mate?” Kei nodded slowly. “Yeah. It hit me like a freight train. I barely kept it together.” For a long moment, Harua didn’t speak. He just stared at him, stunned. Then, softly: “Wow.” Kei huffed a dry laugh. “Yeah. That about covers it.”
Harua set his tea down and turned fully toward him now, concern etched into his features. “Are you okay?” “I will be,” Kei said. “Fuma and Euijoo talked me down after dinner. I’m… better now. Calmer. But I needed to tell you, because, well, I think the scent came from someone you were with today.”
Harua tilted his head, puzzled for a second. Then his eyes widened again. “(Y/n)?” Kei nodded. “It’s possible. You mentioned you spent a lot of time with her.” “Yeah. I mean, we were together most of the day. Getting trained, working through our first assignments. I guess… if it lingered on me…” Kei let out a breath. “It’s just a theory right now. But my wolf, he’s certain. And honestly? That scares me more than anything.”
Harua didn’t respond immediately. He looked out toward the trees, the faint glow of fireflies blinking in the dark. Then, with a quiet smile, he said, “You’ve waited a long time, Kei.” “I thought I’d already lost her,” Kei said, voice barely above a whisper. “That maybe she’d died in the attack. Or that the bond would never form. I stopped hoping.” “But maybe you don’t have to stop anymore,” Harua said gently. Kei glanced at him. “You think it could really be her?”
Harua nodded. “I only met her yesterday, but she’s… kind. Open. She’s a good person, and I think she’s strong enough to handle this, if it really is her.” Kei gave a soft, unsure laugh. “You’re already vouching for her?” Harua shrugged, a small grin forming. “Hey, if she’s going to be your mate, she’s basically my sister. I need to make sure she’s worthy.”
Kei bumped his shoulder against Harua’s. “Thanks.” Harua nudged him back. “Anytime.” They sat in silence again, but this time it was peaceful. The kind that only existed between people who trusted each other deeply. Eventually, Kei said, “I’ll take it slow. I won’t approach her until I’m sure.” Harua nodded. “You’ll know when it’s time.”
And under the moonlit sky, surrounded by trees and the quiet rhythm of the night, Kei let a little hope bloom in his chest.
~~~
The next morning, Harua almost overslept. If it hadn’t been for Fuma pounding on his door and Yuma shouting that the clock was ticking, he would’ve missed his second day entirely. He flew out of bed, scrambled through his morning routine, yanked on his clothes, grabbed his bag and badge, and bolted out the door with barely enough time to breathe.
It wasn’t until he dropped into his chair beside (Y/n) at the office, heart still racing, that he realized something was wrong. “Ugh,” he groaned, slumping forward. “I forgot my phone. And my lunch.” (Y/n) laughed, her eyes crinkling with amusement. “Seriously? Day two and you’re already falling apart.”
Harua gave her a sheepish grin. “I was almost late.” “Well,” she said, pulling out her own phone and offering it to him, “if you need to call someone at home to bring your stuff, go ahead. Just don’t prank call anyone. I will find out.”
Harua chuckled, taking the phone carefully. He paused, thinking. Who would be home at this hour? Who could actually bring his things?
Harua sighed, shaking his head. “The only number I know by heart is my brother’s.” “Perfect,” (Y/n) said, nudging the phone toward him. “Call him.”
He dialed quickly, fingers moving on instinct. Over the years, he’d memorized Kei’s number without even meaning to, he’d called it so many times before. When he was locked out, lost, panicking over something small or something serious, Kei had always been the one to pick up. It was second nature now.
On the third ring, the line connected. “Hello? This is Kei,” came the smooth, professional voice, clearly expecting a work call. Harua grinned. “Hey, it’s me.” There was a pause.
“…Harua?” Kei’s voice shifted instantly, surprise giving way to familiar concern. “Why are you calling from an unknown number? Are you okay?” “I’m fine! I just, uh, I kind of forgot my phone. And my lunch,” Harua admitted, rubbing the back of his neck out of habit. “Could you maybe bring them to the office? Before lunch?”
Kei let out a short laugh, the sound warm and amused. “You’re unbelievable. Day two.” “Yeah, yeah,” Harua muttered, already bracing for teasing. “I’ll bring them,” Kei said. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a light morning.” “Thanks, Kei. You’re the best.” “I know,” Kei replied smugly, before hanging up.
Harua handed the phone back to (Y/n), grinning. “He’s on his way.”
~~~
A while later, with about an hour left before lunch, the office quieted down. The flurry of morning emails and checklists had slowed, giving Harua and (Y/n) a rare pocket of calm.
They leaned back in their chairs, stretching slightly, and (Y/n) glanced over at him with a curious smile. “So, your brother’s bringing your stuff? You two close?” Harua nodded, smiling without thinking. “Yeah. Kei’s… he’s always been there when I needed him. Kind of like my anchor, I guess.” She tilted her head. “You talk about him like he’s more than just your brother.”
Harua hesitated. He had to be careful. No werewolf talk. Keep it light.
“Well, technically, we’re not related,” he admitted. “But we live together, me, Kei, and seven others. Nine of us in total. Not family by blood, but we might as well be. We call each other brothers.”
“Nine guys in one house?” (Y/n) raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like a sitcom.” Harua laughed. “Yeah, it kind of is. Controlled chaos.” She leaned in a little, clearly curious. “Tell me about them?”
Harua’s grin widened. “Okay, well… I already mentioned Kei. He’s the oldest. Calm, dependable, really looks out for everyone. He helps the others lead and honestly, I don’t know what we’d do without him.”
“Sounds like a solid big brother.”
“He is. Then there’s Euijoo, he’s like our leader, almost like a dad. He’s smart, patient, but he can be tough when he needs to be. He’s got this quiet confidence that kind of makes you trust him without even thinking.”
“Like a natural leader?”
“Exactly. Fuma’s his second-in-command, we jokingly call him our mom sometimes, and he’s probably the most grounded one of us. He’s got this dry sense of humor, but he’s always watching out for everyone. Especially when we’re being idiots, which is… a lot.”
(Y/n) chuckled. “I’m getting the picture.”
“Then there’s Nicholas. He’s kind of the grumpy one, loves his sleep, hates being woken up, but he’s also one of the most protective people I know. He’s got a big heart under all that sarcasm. He’s really a sweetheart,”
Harua paused to think before continuing.
“Maki’s the youngest. He’s 19 but acts like a kid sometimes. Always moving, always smiling. Lately he’s been really into cooking. Makes the kitchen a bit of a disaster zone, but he’s getting better. And of course, we all allow him to live as a kid before the big scary world hardens him,”
(Y/n) laughed. “He sounds fun.”
“He is. Taki’s kind of in the same age range. He’s a bit more reserved, though. He’s been struggling with some personal stuff, but we’re helping him through it. He’s got a lot of strength, even if he doesn’t see it himself. He loves playfighting with all of us, Taki and I are really close, he’s almost like my twin,”
“What about the others?”
“Well, Jo’s the quiet artist. Barely says a word most days, but he’s constantly sketching. He draws us all the time, even when we don’t notice. It’s his way of showing love, I think. He’s kind and warm, always there to listen if you need to talk,”
Harua’s smile softened.
“Then there’s Yuma, he’s kind of the social butterfly. He talks the most, always cracking jokes, always trying to keep the energy up. Sometimes too much energy. But you can always count on him to make you laugh.”
(Y/n) looked at him warmly. “You really love them.”
“I do,” Harua said simply. “They’re not just my family. They’re my home.”
~~~
Just before lunch, Kei pulled into the parking lot outside the office building. He parked in a shaded spot near the entrance, glancing down at the items in the passenger seat, Harua’s forgotten phone and neatly packed lunch. He picked them up and leaned back against the side of the car, waiting.
Through the glass doors, he spotted Harua jogging toward him. Kei stood upright, meeting his brother halfway. “Your hero has arrived,” Kei said, handing over the phone and bag with a teasing smile. Harua let out a breath of relief. “You’re a lifesaver.”
Just then, the doors opened again, and (Y/n) stepped out. Kei didn’t notice her at first, his focus was still on Harua, but she noticed him immediately. Her eyes swept over him, taking in his tall frame, striking features, and the calm confidence in his posture. He towered over both her and Harua, with an air that was hard to ignore. Even though she couldn’t see his entire face, she could tell that he was very handsome, soft yet sharp features.
Then Kei looked up, and everything stopped.
His eyes locked with hers. It hit him like a storm. A sharp inhale, a jolt down his spine. The world blurred at the edges as the scent hit him fully, familiar, right, hers. His wolf roared to life inside him, screaming the word he’d longed to hear for years: Mate.
Emotion crashed into him all at once, relief, wonder, overwhelming longing. She was real. She was alive. She was his. And now that she was in front of him, all the years of quiet hope, of waiting, poured over him like a tidal wave.
He tried to hold it back, tried to breathe through it, but his knees buckled. He dropped to the ground, breath shallow, vision swimming. It took everything to not shift right then and there.
“Kei!” Harua grabbed his arm to steady him. Thinking fast, he turned to (Y/n), who stood frozen a few feet away, startled. “He’s-uh, sick. He’s sick,” Harua said quickly. “Didn’t want to tell me earlier, but I guess it hit him harder than he thought. Can you grab some water from inside? Please?”
(Y/n) blinked, clearly unsure, but nodded and turned back into the building. As soon as she was out of earshot, Harua crouched next to Kei.
“Is it her?” he whispered. Kei nodded shakily, eyes wide, still trying to get control of himself.
“She’s my mate.”
With Harua’s steady hand on his shoulder and a few grounding words, Kei slowly managed to center himself. His wolf was still restless, pacing behind his ribs, but the storm of emotion had begun to settle. His breathing evened out, and his legs steadied beneath him just in time for (Y/n) to return, a cup of water in her hand.
“Here,” she said, offering it with a small, concerned smile. Kei accepted it gratefully, his fingers brushing hers briefly. Even that slight contact sent a jolt through him. “Thank you,” he said, his voice rough but sincere. “And… I’m sorry for the scare. That was, just a sudden dizzy spell. I’ll be okay.”
(Y/n) gave a small shrug, her concern softening. “No need to apologize. Just take care of yourself, alright?” He nodded, still not quite trusting himself to speak more.
With that, she and Harua waved him off, turning back toward the building to eat their lunch before the second half of the day picked up. Kei stood there for a moment, watching the doors close behind her, heart still pounding, then finally turned and got back into his car.
As he drove home, the world outside the windshield passed by in a blur, but all he could see was her. The way her eyes had held his, the curve of her smile, the gentleness in her voice. She was more than he’d imagined. She was beautiful, kind, and something about her presence felt like warmth he hadn’t known he was missing.
She’s real. She’s mine.
And now, he thought with a mix of awe and anticipation, I have to figure out how to tell her and how to get to know her.
~~~
Over the next several weeks, nearly two full months, Kei became a familiar presence outside the office building.
It started innocently enough. He’d give Harua rides to and from work, especially on rainy days. Then he began showing up with lunch when Harua forgot to pack one, or even when he didn’t. Soon after, he started arriving mid-morning with coffees in hand, one for Harua, and always one extra for (Y/n), claiming it was “just in case she liked this blend.”
At first, (Y/n) thought nothing of it. Kei seemed like the kind of older brother who took his role seriously, reliable, thoughtful, protective. It was sweet, really, how involved he was in Harua’s life.
But then one morning, Kei showed up with two coffees, and Harua wasn’t there.
(Y/n) blinked in surprise when she saw him through the front doors. As he walked up to her desk, holding out the familiar paper cup with her name scribbled in tidy handwriting, she gave a half-smile.
“No Harua today?” she asked, accepting the drink with raised brows.
Kei cleared his throat softly. “He’s out sick. Thought I’d still stop by… figured you might miss the coffee.” There was a beat of silence. (Y/n) tilted her head, her smile turning a little curious. “I see,” she said lightly. “That’s very thoughtful.” Kei smiled in return, nervous, a bit lopsided. “It’s no trouble.”
As he walked away, (Y/n) sat back in her chair, fingers wrapped around the warm cup. She watched him disappear through the doors again, her expression unreadable. It was then that the thought finally hit her.
Maybe this isn’t just about Harua.
~~~
Two days later, Harua was back at work, fully recovered and just as energetic as always. As lunchtime rolled around, he and (Y/n) settled into their usual corner in the break room, their trays filled and laughter already bubbling between bites.
But (Y/n) was distracted.
She kept glancing toward the front doors, half-expecting to see a tall figure walking in with coffee, even though Harua had brought his own today. After a few minutes of internal debate, she finally decided to ask.
“So… does Kei always show up like he has been lately?” she asked casually, poking at her food with her fork. “I mean, he’s been around a lot these past few weeks.” Harua blinked, not quite catching the meaning. “Yeah? I guess so. Kei’s kind of like that. He’s always the one who steps in when someone needs something.”
He smiled fondly, setting his drink down. “I remember when Taki had a rough patch in school, some bullying stuff. Kei showed up for every lunch break for weeks just so Taki wouldn’t have to sit alone. That’s just who he is.”
(Y/n) nodded, processing the information, but her brow furrowed slightly. “That makes sense,” she said slowly. “It’s just…” She hesitated, then blurted it out before she lost her nerve. “Do you think maybe he… likes me?”
Harua froze mid-sip. His eyes widened slightly as the puzzle pieces clicked into place all at once. “Ohhhh,” he said, setting his drink down slowly. “That’s what this is about.” He looked over at her, a mischievous smirk forming. “You just might be onto something.”
(Y/n) narrowed her eyes playfully at Harua, leaning in a little over the table. “Okay, but if that’s true… why hasn’t he done anything about it? I mean, I thought I’d made it kind of obvious that I sort of like him too.” Harua raised a brow, surprised. “You do?” She gave him a look. “I’ve accepted all his coffee offerings, haven’t I? Smiled every time he showed up, even when I knew he wasn’t there for you.”
Harua laughed softly, then shrugged. “Fair point. But, well… Kei isn’t exactly what he looks like.” (Y/n) tilted her head. “He looks like he’s dated a million people, right?” Harua continued. “Tall, good-looking, confident. But honestly? He’s barely dated anyone. He’s not shy, but he’s… cautious. Kei doesn’t really put himself out there unless he’s sure it won’t blow up in his face.”
He paused, watching her expression soften. “I think he’s afraid of messing it up,” Harua said gently. “So if you really do like him, you might have to help him see that. Just a little nudge, so he knows he’s not reading things wrong.”
(Y/n) leaned back, thoughtful now, twirling her straw in her drink. “Alright,” she said after a moment, a small smile forming. “Then maybe I will.” With Harua’s help, (Y/n) put her plan into motion. It was simple, really. A bit dramatic, but Kei was worth a little drama.
Later that afternoon, Harua texted Kei:
“Come to the office. Pronto. No time to explain.”
Kei, already halfway through organizing the kitchen pantry at home, frowned down at his phone. No explanation? No emojis? Something was up. Dropping the tea towel he had slung over his shoulder, he grabbed his keys and left without a second thought.
When he arrived outside the building, he looked around, expecting Harua’s usual wave through the glass doors, but instead, (Y/n) was standing just outside, waiting for him. Waving at him. She smiled, calm and radiant, like she’d been waiting for this moment all day.
“Let’s go,” she said, nodding toward the sidewalk. Kei blinked, confused. “Wait… what? Go where? Where’s Harua?” And just then, clear as if Harua had whispered it right into his ear, a mind-link sparked to life:
“She likes you, idiot. Just go with her.”
Kei’s jaw slackened a bit, the weight of the words hitting him like a gust of wind. He looked at (Y/n) again, really looked, and saw the glint of nervous hope in her eyes. His heart gave one strong thump. Who was he to refuse his own mate? He let out a soft, incredulous chuckle and nodded. “Okay,” he said, walking toward her. “Lead the way.”
Neither of them was dressed for anything fancy, (Y/n) in her usual office attire, Kei in a worn hoodie and jeans, so they agreed to keep things simple. They walked a few blocks down from the office, settling into a cozy little restaurant tucked at the end of a quiet street. Warm lights, a chalkboard menu, and the soft hum of conversation made it feel intimate without being too much.
They found a small booth near the window. At first, the conversation flowed easily, light teasing, shared laughter. Kei found himself relaxing more than he thought he would. Being around her just felt… right.
But then their server came out.
A guy, maybe around (Y/n)’s age, with a bit too much confidence in his stride. From the moment he approached their table, he zeroed in on (Y/n), his words sugary and his smile too smooth. When he reached out to brush a strand of hair from her shoulder, completely unprompted, Kei’s wolf nearly tore through his skin.
Kei clenched his jaw and lowered his head, biting into the side of his own hand under the table to stop the low growl rumbling in his chest. He didn’t say anything, but every time the server came near, Kei’s whole body tensed like a pulled wire. (Y/n) noticed.
She glanced at Kei, catching the way his jaw flexed, how his hand gripped the edge of the table a little tighter each time. She found it… kind of cute, honestly. Protective, even if he didn’t say a word. The silent glare he gave the poor waiter spoke volumes.
Then came the moment that made her grin even wider. “You’ve got something,” she said, gesturing toward her own cheek. Kei blinked, confused, until she reached out with a napkin and gently dabbed at the corner of his mouth where a smudge of sauce clung. “You’re kind of cute like this,” she said, amused.
Kei stared, stunned. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words tripped over his tongue and got stuck somewhere in his throat. He turned a bit red, looking down for a second with a breathless laugh. (Y/n) giggled softly and leaned back in her seat, sipping her drink, watching him melt just a little. Maybe Harua was right, he really had no idea she liked him.
~~~
Dinner continued with a light-hearted ease, the tension from earlier fading into soft laughter and casual conversation. The warmth of the little restaurant matched the comfortable rhythm they’d fallen into.
“So, what do you do when you’re not rescuing your brother from forgotten lunches?” (Y/n) asked with a teasing smile, twirling her straw in her drink. Kei chuckled. “I model. Part-time.” Her brows rose. “That makes way too much sense.”
He gave her a sheepish smile, a faint pink tint touching his ears. “It pays well enough that I don’t have to do it full-time. And outside of that… I run. A lot. It’s kind of my thing.” “Like… for fun?” Kei nodded. “Yeah. It clears my head. I actually ran a marathon last week.”
Her jaw dropped slightly. “A marathon? Like, the full thing?” “Twenty-six miles,” he said with a shrug, like it was no big deal. (Y/n) laughed in disbelief. “That’s insane. I complain if I have to jog to catch the bus.” Kei grinned. “I’ll teach you if you want.” She raised an eyebrow. “Tempting, but I make no promises.”
He chuckled, then leaned forward a bit. “What about you? What do you do when you’re not working?” “Writing, mostly,” she said, fingers tapping idly against her glass. “And I like painting… though I’m not that good at it.” Kei tilted his head. “Says who?” “Me. And anyone with eyes,” she joked.
“I doubt that,” he said softly, sincerity in his voice. “You seem like the type who puts your heart into everything. That’s what really matters.” (Y/n) blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. She smiled, a little slower this time, letting the words sit with her. Maybe Kei wasn’t just protective and sweet, maybe he was thoughtful, too.
~~~
As the date wound down and the check was paid, neither of them seemed in a rush to leave. The walk back to the office building was quiet but comfortable, their hands brushing occasionally, laughter still lingering between them.
Kei didn’t want the night to end. His wolf didn’t either. Everything about this evening, the way she smiled, the way she listened, the way she looked at him like she truly saw him, felt like home in a way he hadn’t known he was missing.
But all things, even good ones, had to pause. They stopped outside the building entrance, the soft glow of the streetlights casting a warm hue across her features. Just as Kei was about to thank her for the night, (Y/n) tilted her head and held out her hand. “Your phone?” He blinked, but didn’t hesitate. He handed it over without question.
With a small smirk, she typed quickly, then handed it back. “There. Now you have my number.” Kei glanced down at the screen, recognizing the number as the one Harua had used to call him all those weeks ago. His eyes widened slightly in realization. “You didn’t know, did you?” she asked, clearly amused. “That was me.”
Kei looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I didn’t put it together.” “Well,” she said, stepping a little closer, “now you don’t have to pretend to check in on Harua just to show up. You can text me. And we can go on more dates… if you want to.”
Kei met her gaze, warmth flooding his chest. “I want to.” “Good,” she said, smiling. “Me too.” With that, she gave him a gentle wave before disappearing back into the building, leaving Kei standing on the sidewalk, phone in hand, heart pounding. His wolf howled in quiet triumph.
~~~
Before heading back home, Kei sat behind the wheel for a moment, fingers drumming on his phone. He wasn’t usually the type to text right away, but this wasn’t usual. This was her.
So he typed out a simple message:
Hi, this is Yudai :)
He hit send without thinking much of it, still riding the high of the night.
A few seconds later, his phone buzzed with a reply.
Yudai?
Wait… who’s Yudai?
Kei blinked at the screen, then let out a quiet laugh as it hit him, he had never told her his actual name. Everyone just called him Kei. He quickly typed out a follow-up.
Sorry! That’s my full name. Koga Yudai. But everyone just calls me Kei. I guess I forgot I never mentioned it.
There was a pause before she replied again.
Ahhh okay!! That makes more sense now 😂 Kei suits you though. Sounds cool.
Also… I like the real name. Yudai. It’s nice. Strong.
Kei stared at the screen for a long second, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. No one outside the pack really called him by his full name, but somehow, her saying she liked it made it feel… right.
You can call me whatever you want. he typed.
Then hesitated-
Except “puppy.” Harua tried that once. Never again.
Her reply came fast.
Noted. But I’m definitely calling you that now at least once 😏
Kei groaned, but he was smiling the whole drive home.
~~~
As Kei stepped through the front door, the familiar warmth of the house greeted him. The soft hum of the TV played in the background, Euijoo and Nicholas were still up, half-watching a movie in the living room. Euijoo gave him a subtle nod of welcome, Nicholas barely looked up, too focused on whatever plot twist was unfolding on-screen.
Kei kicked off his shoes quietly and made his way past the hallway, expecting the rest of the house to be asleep by now. Fuma, Maki, Taki, Jo, and Yuma had all turned in hours ago. But as he stepped out onto the porch, he saw a familiar shape curled up on the swing bench, wrapped in a big blanket like a cocoon.
Harua.
The younger wolf perked up when he saw him, pushing the blanket off his face. “Took you long enough,” he whispered with a grin. “So? How’d it go?” Kei let out a soft laugh, sitting down beside him, the porch creaking under the weight. “It was… good. Really good.” Harua shifted so he was facing him fully, eyes wide with interest. “Tell me everything.”
So Kei told him.
He told him about how confused he’d been at first when (Y/n) was the one waiting outside. About the smirk on her face, the way his wolf reacted just by being near her. About the little restaurant, the too-flirty server, and how close he came to losing it, but didn’t. About how easy the conversation had been, how pretty her laugh was, how she put her number into his phone and told him to stop pretending to check on Harua just to see her. Harua listened quietly, smiling more with every word, the way siblings do when they’re genuinely proud. When Kei finished, he leaned back against the porch railing, sighing like the weight of the world had left his chest. Harua bumped his shoulder lightly.
“Told you she liked you,” he said, smug. Kei smirked. “Yeah, yeah. I owe you for that.” Harua nodded. “You do. Big time.” The porch fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the sounds of the night forest in the distance. Then Kei glanced over. “You’re really happy for me, huh?”
Harua nodded. “Of course. You waited so long, Kei. You deserve this.” Kei looked out at the trees, the quiet dark, and for once, he didn’t feel the ache of the past lingering like a shadow.
“She’s everything,” he said softly. Harua smiled. “Then don’t mess it up.” “I’ll try not to.”
They sat there a little while longer before finally calling it a night, retreating into the warmth of the house, Kei’s heart a little lighter, his future finally beginning to take shape.
~~~
That night, as the house settled into silence and the steady rhythm of breathing filled the rooms, Kei lay wide awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling. The joy he’d felt earlier still lingered in his chest, but it was quickly being drowned out by anxiety.
He turned over, trying to will himself to sleep, but his mind wouldn’t quiet. How would he tell her? How could he explain something so impossible, something that could terrify her, something that could ruin everything?
He imagined her face when he said the words: “I’m a werewolf.” He saw the spark in her eyes dim, saw her step back, afraid. He heard her say “You’re a monster.” He felt her pulling away, out of reach, gone. Kei clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would block out the images. It didn’t.
He wasn’t ashamed of who he was, not anymore. The pack had given him a home, a purpose, a family. But (Y/n)? She didn’t grow up around their kind. She didn’t know the warmth of a pack or the strength of the bond. She didn’t know the things they had to control every day. And what if, when she did know, it was too much?
He turned onto his side, burying his face into his pillow, his heart heavy. His wolf stirred restlessly inside him, equally distressed. They’d waited so long for her. Losing her wasn’t something either of them could bear to imagine. And yet… that fear was all Kei could see every time he closed his eyes. He didn’t sleep much that night.
~~~
Even though the anxiety never fully left, Kei found himself growing more and more drawn to her with each passing day.
They texted constantly, light jokes, random thoughts, photos of food or cute animals, and more often than not, Kei would find himself smiling at his phone, his heart lighter for just a moment. On days when their schedules allowed it, they met for lunch or dinner. Sometimes, they’d just sit together, not needing to fill the silence. Her presence was soothing. She’d reach for his hand without hesitation, lean into him during quiet moments, laugh freely around him.
It was in those moments that Kei let himself believe this might really work. Once, she texted him a blurry photo of a train ad he’d modeled for, covered in graffiti but still unmistakably him.
“Dating the hottest man alive? Feeling pretty powerful rn.” she’d joked.
Kei had laughed, genuinely, the kind of laugh that left him breathless. But even in that joy, the fear remained, quiet, patient, waiting.
Because no matter how many dates they shared or how natural it all felt, he still hadn’t told her the truth. The truth that pulsed in his blood, that shaped his body under every full moon, that tied him irrevocably to a world she hadn’t asked to be part of. And the longer he waited, the heavier it grew. He knew the time was coming. He had to tell her soon. He just didn’t know how.
~~~
The lights in the apartment were dim, the soft flicker from the TV washing the room in pale, shifting colors. Takeout boxes sat open on the coffee table, their delicious scent mingling with the faintest hint of the lavender candle (Y/n) had lit earlier in a half-nervous attempt to set a relaxed mood. Kei sat beside her on the couch, his tall frame leaned back, legs long and relaxed, his arm draped over the top of the couch, not quite around her, but close enough to make her heart race when she leaned a little to the side.
(Y/n) fidgeted with the corner of a napkin, her fingers folding and unfolding it as she stole a glance at him. He looked calm, content even, his profile softened by the glow of the TV. And yet… there was still a tension there, something subtle that hadn’t faded even after weeks of dates, shared meals, and countless late-night texts.
She shifted a little closer, then cleared her throat softly. “Hey… can I ask you something? It might be kinda weird.” Kei turned toward her slightly, his expression open, calm. “Of course.” She laughed awkwardly, eyes flitting away and back again. “Okay, not weird weird. Just… maybe a little personal.”
He nodded, giving her the space to speak without pushing, and that gave her the courage to keep going. “It’s just… we’ve been on, what, like twelve dates now? Not that I’m counting,” she added quickly, with a nervous chuckle. “But… I was starting to wonder. You haven’t kissed me. Not once.”
She looked up at him, trying to read his expression, but Kei’s face was unreadable in that moment, still, quiet. She rushed to fill the silence. “I’m not mad or anything, and I’m definitely not trying to pressure you, I just… I guess I’m confused. I thought I’d been pretty clear that I wanted you to. Or at least that I wouldn’t not want you to.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she pushed on, nervous laughter bubbling in her throat.
“There was that night after our third date, remember? When we got ice cream and then walked through that little park? I even tried to lean up to kiss you before we said goodnight, but I couldn’t reach,” she said, grinning sheepishly. “I literally had to pretend I was stretching so I didn’t look like a total idiot.”
She groaned and covered her face for a second, peeking out between her fingers.
“And okay, yeah, maybe I should’ve just said something then, but… I don’t know. I guess I figured you’d kiss me when you were ready. But now I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’ve got terrible breath or if-” she paused, smile faltering, “or if maybe you just don’t want to kiss me like that.”
She looked at him again, more serious now, her voice gentler. “I just… I need to know where your head’s at, Yudai.” Her fingers twitched slightly in her lap, and for the first time since the question started, she didn’t look away.
Kei’s heart almost broke as he heard her say that he had caused her to feel insecure. That was never his intention, not even close. Without thinking, he reached out, his large hand cupping her cheek with a gentleness that surprised even him. His skin was warm against hers, and the look in his eyes softened as their gazes met.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, thumb brushing over her skin. “I just didn’t want to pressure you into anything. I guess I’m a little… bad at reading signs sometimes. I didn’t want to assume anything you weren’t ready for.”
His voice, usually confident and steady, was quiet and uncertain now, genuine. Then, slowly, he leaned in, finally ready to close the space between them, his heart pounding in his chest. He could see her eyes flutter shut, could feel the warmth of her breath, and then, sharp and loud, his phone rang.
Kei froze, cursing silently, forehead resting briefly against hers in frustration. “I’m sorry-just one second.”
He pulled back, fishing his phone from his pocket. The screen showed Euijoo. He immediately answered. “EJ?”
Euijoo’s voice was tight, urgent. “Kei, get home. Now. Something’s wrong with Taki and Jo.”
That was all Kei needed to hear.
His whole body tensed. He turned to (Y/n), guilt flashing across his face. “I have to go. It’s a family emergency,” he said quickly, grabbing his coat. (Y/n) stood up, worry spreading across her face. “Is everything okay?” “I don’t know,” he admitted, already halfway to the door. “I’ll text you. I promise.”
And then he was gone, leaving her standing alone in the quiet apartment, takeout still on the table, the movie still paused on the TV, and the echo of his almost-kiss lingering in the air.
~~~
Things at home were chaotic. The moment Kei arrived, the tension in the air was thick, shouts from the backyard, overturned furniture, and the distinct scent of panic lingering in the air.
Jo and Taki had accidentally eaten a plant that was poisonous to wolves, something they’d never encountered before. It triggered an intense, feral reaction, stripping away their control, leaving only instinct and confusion. They weren’t themselves. They had attacked anything that moved, eyes wild and glowing, claws drawn, even lashing out at their packmates who tried to help.
By the time Kei got to the backyard, Nicholas had a nasty gash along his arm, and Euijoo was barking orders to keep the others at bay. Harua was crouched behind a tree, breathing heavily, clearly having just dodged a hit.
Kei didn’t hesitate. He joined the others, helping corner the two out-of-control wolves without hurting them. It took everything they had, Fuma’s strategy, Yuma’s speed, Nicholas’ strength, and Kei’s calm but firm presence, to subdue Jo and Taki long enough for Euijoo to administer an antidote.
It was a slow process, but eventually, their eyes dulled, their breathing steadied, and they collapsed into unconsciousness, both boys shifting back into human form, scratched up, bruised, and exhausted. Everyone stood in silence for a moment, catching their breath. The worst had passed.
Kei sat back against the deck steps, chest heaving. His hands were still trembling, not from fear, but from adrenaline. His mind briefly wandered back to (Y/n), to the almost-kiss that now felt like it had happened in another lifetime.
~~~
The next morning, Kei pulled into the parking lot of Harua’s office building, the engine barely cooled before he stepped out. Harua followed behind him, quiet and nursing his bandaged arm, sensing this wasn’t just about a ride, Kei needed to see her.
(Y/n) was standing outside the entrance, sipping her coffee, a frown etched on her face when she spotted them. Kei didn’t hesitate, he jogged up to her, his usually composed expression replaced by something close to desperation.
She looked up, ready to give him a piece of her mind for disappearing the way he had the night before. But the moment her eyes landed on him, on the bruises trailing up his arms, some dark, some still faintly red, her anger evaporated.
Her gaze flicked to Harua, noticing the bandage peeking from under his sleeve. Something serious had happened. Kei slowed his steps as he reached her, his eyes locking with hers. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, voice rough with exhaustion. “I didn’t want to leave like that… but it really was a family emergency.” (Y/n) didn’t ask what happened. She wanted to, but something in Kei’s eyes told her not to push. Not yet. Instead, she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “You scared me.”
“I know,” Kei said, stepping just a little closer. “I hated walking out like that. But I’d really like another chance… dinner, movie, just us. Tonight.” She hesitated. “Only if you promise not to vanish again.” “I promise,” he said immediately, no room for doubt in his tone. “I’ll be there. Start to finish.” Reluctantly, she gave him a small smile. “Alright. One more try.” Kei smiled back, the tension in his chest easing.
~~~
Harua didn’t offer (Y/n) much when she asked again about the previous night. He simply shook his head gently and said, “It’s better if Kei tells you.” She nodded. That was enough. She trusted them both. Even if the questions stayed heavy in the back of her mind.
The day slipped by faster than she expected. Work was a blur of meetings and small talk, until the clock neared five and she felt her heart speed up. When she stepped outside, Yudai, was already waiting. She climbed into the car, surprised to find takeout containers in the back seat. “You thought ahead,” she smiled. He chuckled, still a bit nervous but hiding it better this time. “Figured we wouldn’t want to cook.”
The drive was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Once at her place, they settled into their usual rhythm. Takeout on the table, movie playing in the background, soft light warming the room. For a little while, it felt easy again. But underneath it all, something lingered, unspoken, but known. The truth was hanging there between them like static in the air.
They hadn’t talked about the night before. Not yet. Because they both knew, when they did… everything could change.
~~~
As the movie’s credits rolled, silence settled between them. The kind that wasn’t uncomfortable, but heavy with meaning. Yudai sat up straighter, his hands resting on his knees as he took a long, slow breath. His chest tightened. It was time.
“I need to tell you something,” he said, voice quieter than usual. Serious. (Y/n) turned toward him, brows raised slightly in concern.
He started with the easier part, if there was such a thing. He told her about the emergency from the night before, how two of his younger brothers had fallen ill. He told her it had been dangerous, but they were okay now. Then, slowly, he pivoted to the part that made his heart pound.
“We’re not… exactly normal,” he said. “I’m not. I mean, I’m not- I’m not human. Not entirely.” She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I’m a werewolf.” For a few seconds, she just stared at him, silent, confused. Her eyes searched his face, like waiting for the punchline to a joke. But it didn’t come. “Yudai… that’s not funny.” “I’m not joking,” he said gently.
She didn’t believe him, not really. Not until he exhaled and let the shift take hold. His eyes glowed bright gold. Fangs peeked through his lips. Furry ears twitched on top of his head, and a soft tail swayed behind him. His hands, once warm and human, now carried sharp, curved claws.
He didn’t move any closer. He didn’t try to scare her. He just sat there. Still, quiet, waiting.
(Y/n)’s breath caught, but she didn’t scream. Her fingers clenched the blanket between them, and her heart pounded, but not from fear. More from awe, confusion… wonder. Even with the fangs and claws, he still looked like him. “Okay,” she said, almost a whisper. “Wow… that’s… a lot.” “I know.” He said as he shifted back to his full human form. “But I’m not scared.”
His eyes flicked up to meet hers. Surprised.
“You’ve never made me feel unsafe. Not once. And even now…” She reached out, fingers grazing his cheek, soft and warm. He flinched a little, more from surprise than anything else.
“You’re still Kei. The guy who brings me coffee. The guy who listens when I ramble. The guy who panicked when he spilled sauce on his shirt.” He let out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh, tension draining from his shoulders. Her acceptance, so instinctive, so complete, felt like the sun rising after a storm.
“Thank you,” he said, voice thick. (Y/n) nodded. “Just… maybe warn me next time you grow a tail, okay?” They both laughed softly. But deep down, they both knew this was only the beginning.
He took another deep breath, the kind that rattled in his chest, and looked her directly in the eyes. “There’s… one more thing. It’s more complicated than the rest.” She stayed quiet, her expression open, patient, still processing, but clearly not running. That gave him the strength to go on.
“In my world, for werewolves, there’s something called a mate. It’s not just a relationship. It’s deeper than that. It’s… someone you’re tied to, body and soul. A bond that forms the moment we recognize each other.”
(Y/n)’s brows knit slightly, her lips parting, she didn’t interrupt, but Kei could see the understanding starting to dawn in her eyes. “We don’t get to choose,” he continued. “It just happens. And when it does, it’s everything. You can live your whole life without finding your mate… or you can meet them and have it change you completely.”
He hesitated for just a second. “If the bond isn’t accepted, it can destroy us. Sometimes… it kills us. Unless the Moon Goddess grants us a second chance, which doesn’t always happen.” Silence stretched for a few heartbeats.
(Y/n) stared at him, her mind racing with the implications, but she stayed still, watching, listening. “So what does this have to do with me?” she asked softly, though deep down, a part of her already knew. Kei’s voice dropped to a near-whisper. “You’re my mate.” His words lingered in the air like a fragile truth finally spoken aloud.
His shoulders sagged a little as if some massive weight had been lifted, but there was still uncertainty in his eyes, fear she’d recoil, run, or look at him like he was something unnatural. But she didn’t. She sat there, heart pounding, trying to reconcile what that meant, and what it meant for them. He was watching her closely now, barely breathing, his entire world hanging in the balance of her response.
(Y/n) stayed quiet for a few moments, her gaze fixed on the space between them as her mind worked through everything he’d told her. The weight of it all was undeniable, but so was the sincerity in his voice. She knew he meant every word. There wasn’t a trace of manipulation or pressure, just raw honesty and vulnerability. And as wild as this whole “mate” thing sounded, she couldn’t deny her own feelings either.
She liked him. She had since the day they met, his kindness, his gentle nature, his awkwardness. Whether it was the bond or just him, it didn’t matter much right now.
Then, a small realization hit her. She glanced up at him, a half-smile forming as she remembered something.
“Wait… the first time we met, when you collapsed outside the office,” she said slowly, watching his expression shift. “That had something to do with this, didn’t it? With the mate thing?”
Kei groaned softly, covering his face with one hand, clearly embarrassed by the memory. “Yeah,” he admitted, voice muffled. “That was… definitely because of the bond.” (Y/n) blinked. “Seriously?” He looked at her again, cheeks flushed. “My wolf recognized you instantly. It hit me like a truck. I wasn’t prepared, I didn’t expect to meet my mate in the middle of a random work day. So yeah… I kinda short-circuited.”
She laughed, warm and surprised, and he relaxed a little hearing the sound. “You collapsed because of me?” she teased. He gave her a sheepish smile. “In my defense, you smelled like heaven and looked even better.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes fondly, shaking her head, but her smile lingered, just like her hand when it reached over to take his. “Okay,” she said softly. “This is a lot… but I’m still here.”
They decided to watch another movie before Kei had to head home, something light and funny to ease the weight of the conversation they’d just had. As the opening credits rolled, (Y/n) shifted in her seat. After a brief moment of hesitation, she moved closer to him, slowly leaning into his side until her head was pressed against his chest. Her body half resting on his.
Kei blinked, startled by the sudden contact, and looked down at her. She didn’t meet his eyes, just kept watching the screen with the most casual expression she could muster. Still, he smiled, soft and amazed, and opened his mouth to say something teasing. Maybe a smart comment about her finally making a move. But before he could get a single word out, she beat him to it.
“I’m cold,” she said simply, cutting him off without even looking his way. “And you’re warm.” Kei let out a quiet chuckle, deciding not to push his luck. Instead, he slipped his arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her a little closer, letting her settle in against his side.
He could hear her heart beating steadily, feel her warmth through the thin fabric of her shirt. And for once, his own heart wasn’t racing with anxiety, but with something steadier. Peace. She let out a content sigh, and for a while, neither of them said anything. They just sat there, wrapped in each other’s presence, as the glow of the television flickered across their faces.
~~~
A few days later, as the week neared its end, Kei nervously typed out a message, then stared at it for a second before hitting send:
“Hey, would you want to come over for dinner sometime soon? Meet the rest of my brothers, the pack?”
He held his breath.
The reply came quickly:
“Absolutely! I’ve heard so much about them, I’ve been dying to meet everyone :)”
Relief washed over him. He had talked about this with Harua earlier in the week, trying to decide when would be the right time. Now felt right. They all knew about her, of course, and everyone had been curious, especially Maki, who had been annoyingly persistent in asking questions Kei didn’t even have answers to.
So that Friday, as Harua and (Y/n) stepped out of the office, there Kei was, leaning casually against his car, dressed a little nicer than usual, but still effortlessly cool. He lit up the moment he saw her, waving them over.
“Ready?” he asked, opening the door for her without a second thought. “Let’s do this,” (Y/n) said with a smile, butterflies already starting in her stomach. She wasn’t sure what to expect from nine werewolf brothers… but she had a feeling it was going to be a night to remember.
~~~
The house was bouncing with life as Kei’s car came to a gentle stop just outside the cozy little home nestled in their quiet village. Warm light glowed through the windows, and the sounds of laughter, clattering dishes, and someone shouting that “the food’s about to catch fire!” spilled out into the evening air. The chaos was so loud it almost felt like it had its own heartbeat.
(Y/n) laughed softly, her heart already warming at the sound. The place felt like a home, real and lived-in, messy, loud, but full of love. Kei, on the other hand, looked like he was seconds away from either bolting or melting into the driver’s seat.
“They would have to be extra messy the day I bring you over,” he mumbled under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly mortified. (Y/n) looked over at him, amused. “You’re nervous?” He glanced at her with a sheepish smile. “Yeah. A little. I mean… they’re them. And you’re… you.” He gave her a look that made her heart skip. There was adoration in his eyes, like he still couldn’t quite believe she was real.
Harua had already hopped out of the car and jogged toward the house, waving over his shoulder. “I’ll go warn them you’re coming!” he called with a laugh.
As the door swung open and Harua disappeared inside, (Y/n) stepped out of the car but didn’t follow him right away. Instead, she circled around to Kei’s side, reaching for his hand. He looked down at her as she laced their fingers together, a question in his gaze.
“Come here,” she said softly, tugging at his hand.
He leaned down without question, bending enough so that their faces were close, the evening breeze playing gently with the ends of his hair. She reached up, brushing his bangs aside, smoothing down the strands that had been tousled by the wind on the drive over.
“You had a little something,” she said with a playful glint in her eye, though there was nothing on his face except a slightly stunned expression.
And then, before he could process it, she leaned in and kissed him. It was soft and brief, but full of intent. Her lips were warm against his, steady and sure, and when she pulled away, his eyes widened. For a heartbeat, he just stared at her, completely frozen. Then-
He dropped to his knees.
It wasn’t a collapse of weakness, but of overwhelming feeling. As if everything in him, his wolf, his heart, his soul, had surged at once and left him breathless. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her close, and he pressed his forehead against her stomach like she was the anchor he needed to stay grounded.
His eyes shimmered gold as his wolf peeked through, not in threat, but in awe. His body trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the sheer weight of emotion. (Y/n) was taken aback at first, unsure of what to do, but instinct kicked in. She rested her hands on his head, fingers threading into his hair gently, stroking it.
“Yudai…” she murmured, her voice tender. He let out a shaky laugh, voice muffled against her. “I’m sorry. I, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” “You’re not freaking me out,” she said, smiling. “I just didn’t know my kiss was that powerful. To make my big handsome puppy collapse, ” He chuckled again, finally looking up at her with eyes that had settled back into their deep, warm brown. “You have no idea what that meant to me… I’ve waited so long to feel something like this. To have you, ” No comment about the puppy thing?” “If it’s you, I don’t care,” (Y/n)’s heart fluttered. Nudging his nose lightly with her fingers. “Now come on, before your brothers actually burn down the kitchen.”
Kei nodded, still holding her hand tightly as he stood back up. He seemed steadier now, more solid, like something had settled into place inside him. He reached down and gave her hand a soft squeeze.
“You kissed me,” he said, still a bit dazed. “I did,” she replied with a playful smile. “And if you’re good tonight, I might do it again.” He laughed, heart full to bursting, and together they made their way to the front door, ready to face the chaos, and the pack, hand in hand.
Once inside, (Y/n) barely had a moment to take in the cozy interior of the house before she was completely bombarded with attention.
First up was Maki. A whirlwind of energy, he came barreling out of nowhere like a freight train of enthusiasm, practically sliding into view.
“Oh my God, you’re (Y/n)? Finally!” he exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement. “You’re even prettier than Harua said! And he said you were super pretty!”
He looked like a kid in a candy store despite being tall, taller than she expected, and built like someone who’d never stopped growing, or someone who lived at the gym. His grin stretched from ear to ear as he bounced in place, practically vibrating with excitement. Before she could even get a word in, he zoomed off toward the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t mind me! I’m just making sure dinner doesn’t kill us!”
(Y/n) blinked, mouth slightly open. “Was that… Maki?” “Yup,” Kei said beside her, chuckling. “You’ll get used to it.”
The next wave came in the form of Taki and Yuma, who were already mid-argument as they approached. “I saw her first,” Taki insisted. “You only saw her because I heard her voice first,” Yuma shot back. “Your wolf ears don’t count!” “Oh, they definitely count!”
“Hi,” (Y/n) interrupted, raising a hand and offering a small, amused smile. Both of them paused mid-bicker, turning to her like she’d dropped from the heavens. Taki gave her a warm, slightly sheepish grin. “Sorry. I’m Taki.” “And I’m Yuma,” the other followed quickly, shooting Taki a smug look. They nodded at her in tandem, then wandered off still bickering quietly about who had the better instincts.
Next came Jo, calm and cool, the complete opposite of the two before him. He stepped forward with, extending his hand. He seemed shy, not really meeting her eyes, yet he seemed welcoming in his own way.
“Welcome,” he said simply, shaking her hand with a polite firmness. “It’s nice to meet you.” Then, just as silently, he turned and walked away, disappearing down a hallway with a quiet nod. His cheeks red with shyness.
Before she could recover from the calm, Nicholas strolled in with all the charm of a rom-com lead. “Ah, so you’re the angel Yudai’s been keeping from us,” he said, flashing a dazzling smile that looked like it could probably sell perfume. He took her hand and, to her surprise, bent to kiss it gently. “Nicholas, at your service.”
“Nicho,” Kei growled warningly, his eyes narrowing. Nicholas looked up, completely unfazed. “What? I’m just being polite.” He winked at her.
Just then, Euijoo appeared, practically shoving Nicholas to the side with an annoyed grunt. “Off,” Euijoo muttered. He turned to (Y/n), far more composed, but still with that leader-like air about him. “Sorry about him. Welcome to our home,” he said, giving her a nod. “We’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Euijoo, you can call me EJ if you want though,”
Right on his heels was Fuma, who gave her a soft, respectful smile and a quick bow of his head. “I’m Fuma. It’s really nice to finally meet you. If you need anything tonight, don’t hesitate to ask.” He turned and headed off quickly, muttering something about “Taki and Yuma setting the house on fire” as he went to manage the ever-escalating tension in the kitchen.
Finally, Harua, already seated at the dining table, gave her a cheerful wave with a mouth full of what looked like a fried dumpling. “Hey! Again!” he said, swallowing quickly. (Y/n) blinked, barely able to process what had just happened. The house seemed to buzz with so much energy, like it was alive and pulsing with laughter, arguments, footsteps, and the occasional crash from the kitchen.
It was a lot. Loud, chaotic, messy… but it was warm. It felt like home.
She looked up at Kei, who was standing beside her with an apologetic yet hopeful expression. “I know they’re a bit much.” “They’re everything,” she said softly, unable to keep the smile off her face. “But I kinda love it.” He relaxed, shoulders dropping as the tension bled out of him. “Good,” he said, his voice filled with relief. “Because they already love you. And so do I,” (Y/n) gasped lowly at the confession, the way Yudai’s eyes flashed gold as he said it. Though it didn’t take long before she followed him, “I love you too, Yudai,”
Yudai smiled widely at her confession, the way her eyes sparkled with love and sincerity, the way she seemed to fit in perfectly with the chaos that is his family, his pack. Everything was perfect. He leaned down, gently cupping her cheek with his hand, pressing his lips against hers, warm, gentle, loving. Once they parted, they both smiled, almost giggling like high schoolers. Soon enough, someone called out for them to come to the table before the dinner got cold. And with that, he led her into the dining room, ready to survive the evening, and the rest of their lives, hand in hand.
genre: the smuttiest of all the smut, like straight filth
CW: 4some (is that a word? it is now), some mxm (nichojoo), teasing, foreplay, oral (f&m!receiving), throat fucking, clit play, kei is kinda bossy, soft!dom nicho, ej, & k, lil degradation (kei:slut,whore), praise, pet names ( jagiya, baby, princess, sweetheart), unprotected pinv (x2, no no!), unprotected anal (no no!), squirting, double penetration, choking, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, cumming inside (x3), aftercare
word count: 4,800ish
synopsis: SURPRISE! bonus chapter!
after not being ready for these experiences to end, you invite three of the boys over to try something else you’ve been thinking about nonstop.
note: y’all im so serious this is straight porn. someone just write “whore” across my forehead. highlighted some of the CW some people might not be into as an extra warning. if i missed something plz comment 😮💨
got excited & posted it a day early hehe
series masterlist
“Come over. Quickly, please.”
The text was simple. A direction you knew they’d follow. But sending it to all three of them separately felt odd, and you wonder how they’ll respond when they show up and see they weren’t the only one invited. The experiences are over, each one of them had taken their turn, but there is something else you want to try. Something you’re not sure they’ll be down for, but you can’t let the idea escape your mind. Your mind races as you wait for a response, but nothing comes, not from any of them. You assume they’re racing over to your apartment, since you know it’s their day off and they’re not doing anything. You’ve thought this through, planned it even. Planned what you are gonna say, how you might have to convince them, how you might have to diffuse their confusion when all three of them show up. You begin to wonder who will get there first, and then there’s a knock at the door. You glide over quickly, adjusting the robe you have tied tightly around you, to hide the surprise.
“Baby, is everything okay?” Kei questions, a concerned look on his face as he shoves through your front door as soon as it’s cracked just a bit. His hands find your face, checking every inch of you, his mind immediately thinking something was wrong from your text.
“Yudai, I’m fine! Nothings wrong!” You giggle, his hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer to him.
“But…your text. No cute little emojis, no explanation. I thought you were hurt.” He chuckles, realizing he immediately just assumed, given the change in tone over the phone.
“I’m sorry I made you worry, Kei.” You lean up on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek before continuing. “Just wanted you over here fast. I…um…have something to ask.” You barely get your sentence out before rampant knocking occurs at your door again. Kei looks at you confused, and you smirk, trailing to the door, leaving him stuck in place. You swing the door open to see Euijoo and Nicho, both slightly out of breath and sweat beading at their foreheads. They must’ve ran up the stairs to your apartment. You giggle at their appearance.
“Hi, boys.” You gleam, grabbing each of their hands, pulling them inside. They shoot Kei a look, and he gives it right back.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Kei voices, Nicho and Euijoo taking a moment to catch their breath.
“Y/n are you okay? We thought something was wrong. Why’d you text both of us the same thing?” Nicho interrogates, all three of them trying to understand your plan here.
“And why is Kei already here?” Euijoo adds.
“She’s fine. I thought the same thing. Looks like I got the same text. Did we all? Sweetheart, what are you up to?” Kei’s eyes sharpen, all three of their gazes on you as they try to piece together your thoughts, trying to read your mind.
“I’ll explain. Just come, sit. Please.” You declare, motioning to your couch. They all take a seat in front of you as you stand, Euijoo in the middle. You’ve rehearsed this in your head a million times the past few days, but now that it’s here you’re unbelievably nervous. “I-I have something I want to ask you. Just you three. Please let me get all of my thoughts out before you say no, okay?” You assert, desperate for them to hear you out first. Their confusion only seems to intensify, Nicho’s eyebrows raising in speculation.
“Um, okay..” Nicho voices first, Euijoo nodding next to him and Kei grabs your hand in comfort.
“Please do not judge me for what I’m about to ask of you.” You sigh, heart pounding in your chest, palms sweaty, and body trembling. You need this so badly, you couldn’t bear for them to say no.
“Jagiya, we’re not going to judge you. Please tell us.” Euijoo vocalizes, the boys nodding alongside of him.
“Out with it, baby.” Kei’s voice breaks the silence afterwards and you inhale deeply before your word vomit of convincing thoughts commences.
“I want all of you. Together. Like, at the same time.” You state, pausing before you continue, letting the thought protrude in their minds before moving on. Euijoo’s eyes widen, Nicho’s jaw tightens, and Kei smiles at you smugly. Three completely different reactions.
“When I think back on all these experiences, there’s only one thing I haven’t tried that I find myself longing for. At first I was just going to ask for a threesome. But then I was struggling to decide on just two of you. And shit, why not add another?” You begin to ramble, chuckling awkwardly as you explain yourself, Kei’s hand squeezing yours tightly. “You three are the ones I’ve felt the most connected to. I love every single one of you, and I’ve enjoyed the past couple of weeks way too much, but you three are special. I don’t know, maybe that sounds stupid.” You shake your head, looking down at the ground as you try to summon the courage to continue your rant as their eyes watch you intensely.
“I want to know what it feels like to have you, all of you, on me, touching me, kissing me, fucking me, all together. I’ve thought about it nonstop. The intensity, the different energies you exude. I need to know. And if you don’t want to, fine, I’m not going to freak out or make you do something you don’t want to do, but god, I need it.” Your voice finally stops with a whine and you look back up at them again. Eyes moving between theirs, trying to read a response on their face. Your grip on Kei’s hand has tightened, the need fueling through your body just from talking about it has you breathing heavily, heart still pounding from the nerves and erotic topic. The room is silent for a moment too long, their fierce gaze burning holes through your soul. “Okay, someone please say something.” You utter, and Kei takes the first opportunity, standing up before you, his hand finding your jawline, thumb pressing against your bottom lip.
“Our little whore just can’t get enough, can she?” He chuckles darkly, he thumb tracing your lip. You close your eyes from his touch, exhaling sharply. Euijoo and Nicho stand up simultaneously, the three of them caging you in. Euijoo takes a spot beside Kei, Nicho sliding behind you. They surround you like wolves closing in on their prey. Euijoo’s hand drifts along your arm, his touch so light it gives you goosebumps. You can feel Nicho’s hot breath against your neck from behind, the feeling of all three of them enclosing around you is already overwhelming in the best way.
“You really thought we’d say no to that?” Nicho whispers in your ear, loud enough for all of you to hear. He bites at your earlobe, making you whimper. You really did believe they would need more convincing, that’s why you bought the outfit that’s hiding under your robe.
“Thought you knew us better than that.” Euijoo utters, sliding your robe over slightly to place a kiss on your collarbone, the cold air hitting your skin in contrast with his warm lips. Kei and Euijoo push into you, making you step backwards, Nicho moving as well, until you’re all three standing at the foot of your bed in your room. Once you’re there, Kei’s lips connect with yours harshly. You move together rhythmically, his tongue diving into your mouth with ease, not even caring to put up a fight. Euijoo scatters kisses along your neck and shoulder, pulling the top of your robe down off of you to expose it to him. Nicho continues to whisper into your ear, unhinged, dirty thoughts that has arousal pooling at your core. Soon, you hear the sounds of wet tongues dancing together, and it’s not coming from you and Kei. Your eyes dart open and you pull away, barely able to breathe from the intensity of Kei’s kisses. When you find the source of the sounds, you practically fall to your knees at the sight. Euijoo and Nicho’s lips move together beside you in perfect harmony, like this was nothing new. Kei cups and caresses your breasts over the robe, noticing that you’re nearly trembling from what you’re seeing.
“Oh, that? It’s nothing new, sweetheart.” Kei smiles devilishly, Nicho’s grip loosening in Euijoo’s hair just for a moment to pull away and look at you. You’re in awe at the way he handles him, clearly in charge. Euijoo looks at Nicho, waiting for the opportunity to dive back in.
“I think she’s enjoying the show, Kei.” Nicho claims, your thighs clenched tightly, chest moving quickly from your breathing. Kei pulls the strings of your robe, letting it fall around your feet, and all three of their eyes lock on you. The matching black bra and thong catches their eyes immediately, the hunger in them deepening.
“Well look at this, she was expecting something.” Euijoo teases, Nicho’s hand still wrapped around the back of his neck, lips glistening with his saliva. Kei licks his lips, climbing onto the bed, leaning against the headboard. He instructs you to lie between his legs, his hard chest against your back. Nicho and Euijoo climb onto the bed as well, kneeling at the foot, below you and Kei.
“Continue. Seems she was enjoying it, so give her a show.” Kei commands, Nicho not hesitating to follow instructions. His hands snake into Euijoo’s hair again as he pulls him in, and he moans at the slight tug. Their kiss is profound, their need evident as not only their lips move together, but their bodies move as well. Euijoo grips the bottom of Nicho’s shirt, pulling it up and separating only for a moment to rip it over his head. Meanwhile, Kei’s hands survey every inch of your body, his touch and the view in front of you has you dripping, the situation lighting a fire inside of you.
“You like this? Watching them together?” Kei mutters into your ear, his hands palming your breasts once again, before he pulls the cups of your bra down to toy with your nipples. You nod, not able to speak, and you squirm in between his legs. He snickers at your neediness, his left hand pinching at your nipple, his right hand shifting down your body, stopping just above your underwear. Nicho and Euijoo continue their hungry attack on each other before you, Euijoo’s shirt, and both of their pants being shed as well in the process.
“Kei, please. Touch me.” You whine, his hand teasing your waistline. Nicho bites at Eujoo’s lip as he pulls away, earning a moan which sends a spark straight to your cunt. Kei’s hand dives beneath your panties, his slim fingers invading your folds, gathering the wetness at your entrance before bringing them back up to your clit, circling it slowly. Your back arches and you throw your head back against his chest, the sensation almost making you drool from need.
“Uh-uh, baby. Watch them. Don’t you dare look away.” He demands, his left hand moving from your lip to your chin, anchoring your face forward, squeezing your cheeks to keep your head in place. Euijoo’s lips connect with Nicho’s neck. He bites at the sensitive skin, Nicho’s head falling back from the pain mixing with pleasure. He palms himself through his boxers, Euijoo’s lips peppering kisses down his muscular chest to his hips. Kei’s fingers begin to work faster on your aching clit. You’ve never felt anything like this before, the arousal from watching your two best friends makeout, while a third pleasures you is unbelievable.
“Fuck, Euijoo.” Nicho groans, Euijoo’s hand replacing his own to stroke him lightly over his boxers. Both of their hard cocks are obviously outlined through the cloth, angry and needy. You wiggle underneath Kei’s touch, the familiar knot forming within you.
“She’s dripping, boys. Little whore is eating this up.” Kei taunts, hand still gripping your jaw, keeping your head straight, eyes locked on the two in front of you. His degrading words only spurring you on further. Nicho smirks, watching you about to come undone underneath his friend’s touch. He reaches forward, palming Euijoo, mirroring his movements. They connect their lips again, their breathing so heavy their mouth stay partially open as they lick and suckle at each other. Kei’s movements quicken, your cunt pulsing around nothing, your body desperate to reach climax. You inhale rapidly, feeling the coil within you about to snap.
“S-so close, shit.” You whimper, Kei’s grip on your chin loosing a bit, but staying there to send a message. His fingers maintain their momentum, the view in front of you alongside finally causing you to break. Your body convulses against Kei, Nicho and Euijoo breaking their lips apart to watch you crumble. Your vision goes spotty as you orgasm, the intensity mind boggling.
“I almost forgot how beautiful you look when you cum, princess.” Euijoo chuckles, both him and Nicho crawling towards you settling between your thighs, each taking one leg in their grasp, spreading you wide. Kei’s cock is hard against your back, the feeling of all three of their need for you makes you blush red.
“Hmm, I wonder what their tongues can do on you, instead of each other.” You can feel Kei smirk against your ear. You’re still trying to regain control of your body from your first orgasm, you can’t imagine them diving in this quickly, but they do, wasting no time as Kei gives them a nod of approval. They practically tear off your thong, then Nicho settles his tongue at your pounding clit, toying and biting at it, the overstimulation making you cry out. Euijoo’s tongue finds your entrance, their mouths so close together they may as well be kissing again.
“Fuck! Too much, please…slow down!” You plead, not really sure you’re meaning what you’re saying, as the line between overstimulation and extreme pleasure starts to waiver. Kei’s left hand wraps around your throat, flashbacks from Yuma’s turn flash through your memory. Did he tell them you enjoy this? Your racing thoughts are cut off quickly as he applies pressure to the sides of your neck, sending a new wave of arousal through your body down to your cunt. Nicho and Euijoo’s tongues devour you like it’s their last meal, as if they’re marking up every inch of your pussy, claiming it as theirs, their tongues dancing together occasionally.
“You can take it, baby.” Nicho lifts up only for a moment, admiring the look of bliss on your face as they eat you alive. Kei’s free hand plays with your nipples, going back and forth between your breasts to give them the same attention. Euijoo backs away, two of his fingers toying with your entrance before he shoves them into you abruptly, making you moan dramatically. You feel like you might fall apart, the ecstasy from their combined movements making you dizzy. Your second orgasm approaches quickly as Euijoo curls his fingers inside of you, finding your sweet spot with an accuracy that makes you wonder if he’s somehow memorized it from last time.
“You like both of them feasting on you like this, princess?” Kei purrs into your ear, his clutch on your throat only becoming tighter as you struggle against the strength of all three men. “They making you feel good, baby?” He continues, suckling at your neck, admiring some of the marks that are still there from his turn days ago.
“S-so good.” You manage to croak out, although the pleasure and his strength on your neck makes it difficult.
“Clenching so tight around my fingers, fuck.” Euijoo’s eyes gaze up to yours, admiring the view. “Cum all over Nicho’s face, jagiya.” He orders, Nicho’s tongue still working overtime, drinking up every ounce of your arousal.
“You heard him. Give us another one.” Kei breathes into your ear, his voice trembling at this point from his own need. Their words push you over the edge, a gush of liquid showering out of you, but it doesn’t faze Nicho. He licks up every single drop, tongue not slowing for a moment, Euijoo’s fingers coaxing more out of you until you’re a whimpering mess. They finally slow their movements, stopping completely and leaning back away from your cunt, Nicho’s face glistening with you. Euijoo brings his fingers up to your mouth, and you open, expecting him to instruct you to clean them off, but instead, his fingers enter Kei’s mouth instead. The view of one man sucking your slick off of another man’s hand was oddly arousing, but you just continue to find more things that surprise you about yourself.
“So fucking sweet.” Kei mumbles through the invasion of Euijoo’s fingers. His tongue circles them, making sure to leave them spotless. You moan involuntarily, the action incredibly intimate. As Euijoo removes his fingers, Kei slides out from underneath you, moving around to the foot of the bed, Nicho and Euijoo going towards the front, basically switching spots. Before you can process it, all three sets of hands are flipping you, turning you onto your stomach, and you immediately resituate to on your knees, ass arched high as Kei removes his clothes behind you, painfully slow.
“Kei, please. I need you.” You sound ridiculously desperate, but you don’t care, not at this point. Euijoo sits in front of you, Nicho kneels next to him. Kei chuckles deeply at your distress, until you finally feel his cock at your entrance. You let out a shaky sigh, leaning your head down, eyes toward the mattress, awaiting his length inside of you.
“She’s been such a good girl, Kei. Don’t tease her.” Nicho says playfully, pulling off his boxers in front of you, kissing your forehead as he does so. Euijoo grins sweetly next to you, a mischievous pout on his face, taunting your anguish. After what feels like forever, Kei pushes inside of you, his own self control completely fading once he feels the soft, warm walls of your pussy around him again.
“Shit.” He utters, sheathing himself inside of you completely. You brace yourself, palms on the mattress, bringing your eyes back up to look at the two in front of you. Euijoo sits patiently, placing a few kisses around your face as Kei begins to drive into you. Nicho has his hard, angry length in his hand, pumping himself leisurely, not wanting to lose his cool too quickly. “This pussy. Is ruined for anyone else. It’s ours. Do you understand, me?” Kei groans through gritted teeth, thrusting into you hard, his hands anchored to your hips to keep you in place. The position has him deep within you, his cock exploring the depths of you. You can’t speak, can’t think, can’t do anything but moan uncontrollably. Euijoo’s hand grips your face, making you look directly at him as he speaks.
“He asked you a question, jagiya.” Euijoo says with a tone that expresses care, but also that he means business. You look at him with doe eyes, your expression mindless as Kei fucks you dumb.
“Ye-yes. Fuck. All yours.” You manage to produce with a squeaky, unsteady voice. Nicho smiles smugly at your response, his hand snaking down to yours, replacing it with his hand stroking his cock. You gather his precum, using it coat his length, moving your wrist the best you can given the assault Kei is giving to your pussy. “N-nicho. Fuck my face.”
“Are you sure, sweetheart?” He asks, stunned by your forwardness, but the way his cock twitches in your hand tells you that he’s thrilled by the idea.
“Y-yes, please.” You plead, desperate to have them inside of you in any way you can, and wanting to make him feel good, too. As Nicho situates in his knees, Euijoo lies on his back, gliding underneath your torso where you’re leaning on your hands, taking your breast in his mouth, paying delicate attention to your nipples. Kei’s fucks into you with great power, his cock brushing against your gspot, a third orgasm building on the horizon. Nicho strokes your lips with his thumb before guiding his cock into your mouth, growling at the feeling of the warmth.
“Tap me twice if you need me to stop.” He smiles down at you tenderly, wanting to make sure you’re comfortable. You nod sheepishly, with an innocence that drives him wild. His hips begin to move, slow and steady at first, but the pleasure soon comes and he move quicker, his cock invading your throat with each thrust, tears prickling your eyes at the intrusion. Euijoo’s mouth continues kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin of your chest.
“You’re so close, I can feel it.” Kei admits through heavy breaths. “Cum with both of our cocks in you, baby. Our whore just loves to be full, doesn’t she?” He taunts, groaning deeply as you clench around him one finally time, wailing around Nicho’s length as you cum again, legs shaking around Kei as he spills inside of you. He bottoms out, pushing his cum deep into your pussy, his movements stopping afterwards as you both descend from your highs. Nicho pulls out of your mouth, wiping the tears that have dropped along your cheeks. Kei kisses down your spine, a moment of sweet affection within the night of sin. Euijoo and Nicho back up, all of you trying to decide in your mind what, or better yet who, comes next. You wrap your hands into Nicho and Euijoo’s hair in front of you, one hand in each.
“I-I want to try something.” You say shyly, Kei grabbing his boxers and dabbing sweat from his forehead with his shirt that he shed earlier.
“My gosh, princess, what else?” Euijoo laughs, both of them anticipating your next words. Kei walks around to the front of the bed, sitting behind Nicho and Euijoo, also curious by this new idea.
“I want both of you. At the same time.” You state, plainly. Their eyes widening again, just like when you first admitted your reason for inviting them all over.
“You mean…like…” Nicho begins, gulping at the insinuation that one of them would be fucking your cunt, and the other fucking your ass. You nod, not even letting him finish his thought.
“Nicho, lie down.” You demand, Kei smirks at your sudden authority, moving to stand at the side of the bed, giving you all plenty of room. He does as told, lying back and you climb on top of him, his hard cock standing at full attention. You reach in between your bodies, guiding him into you as you lie forward on him, groan escaping his throat. “Don’t move yet.” You challenge, his long length buried deep within you.
“And if I do?” Nicho says jokingly, testing your unexpected control.
“I’ll walk out of this room right now. Don’t make Euijoo be the one to have to get you off instead of me. Be a good boy, Nicho.” You chuckle, his eyebrows raising at the words. Kei stands, caressing your ass as you lie on top of Nicho. Euijoo tugs off his boxers, tossing them aside like an excited little kid.
“Are you sure about this y/n?” Euijoo questions. “I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice is full of concern, knowing you’ve never done this before, but his heart swells knowing you trust them enough to be the first.
“You’re not going to hurt her, just gotta prep her first.” Kei offers, gripping the cheeks of your ass so hard you’re sure there will be hand prints left there.
“Kei, dresser. Top drawer.” You moan out due to Nicho adjusting underneath you, the slight movement of his cock inside of you sending chills through your body. Kei does as you say, finding the brand new bottle of lube, ready for use.
“Looks like someone’s had to this planned.” Kei snickers, bring it over to the bed, handing it to Euijoo before sitting beside you and Nicho’s sandwiched bodies on the bed.
“You’re fucking unbelievable.” Nicho admits, shaking his head against the mattress. You hear Euijoo open the bottle cap, gathering the cool lube onto his fingers, massaging your ass cheek with the other hand.
“You remember the color system. Use it if you need to, please, y/n.” Euijoo pleads, so worried he’s going to hurt you unintentionally. You nod and Nicho’s lips attach to your neck, leaving soft kisses. Kei locks his eyes in yours, face to face, ready to talk you through it. Euijoo’s finger brushes against your tight hole, making you suck in a sharp breath at the new sensation. He collects an appropriate amount of lube around it, soaking his finger as well, then slowly pushes it inside of you.
“Breathe.” Kei instructs, and you oblige immediately, Euijoo’s finger working you open, the unfamiliar feeling sending fireworks through you, now certain you can take more.
“You can do more, you’re not gonna break me, JuJu, I promise.” You inhale and exhale through the foreign touch. He adds more lube, a second finger entering you as well. Soon enough, the feeling of his fingers thrusting inside of you turns into pleasure. It’s different, but the feeling of being filled in both holes has you reeling, moans beginning to escape you.
“She’s ready, Euijoo. Just go slow.” Kei vocalizes, still maintaining eye contact with you, anchoring you to reality. Euijoo pours an almost ridiculous amount of lube on his hard cock, before lining himself up with your ass.
“So patient, Nicho. Thank you.” You kiss his cheek sweetly, knowing it’s probably killing him to stay inside of you like this without moving.
“Of course, baby. But if I don’t move within the next couple minutes I think I may explode.” He chuckles, a note of seriousness in his voice as well, and you smile down at him. He grips your hips, keeping you in place as Euijoo presses into you mind numbingly slow, your ass contracting around him immediately. He takes his time, making sure nothing is wrong before going in further. You let out a choked groan as he bottoms out, causing him to pause.
“You okay?” Nicho asks before Euijoo can, and you nod vigorously. Your hands brace the mattress next to Nicho’s head, still lying flush against him.
“God, yes, please. Move. Both of you.” You cry out, feeling so incredibly full it’s indescribable. Kei smirks, kissing you passionately as they both begin to move, deliberately dragging their thrusts as to not go too fast too quickly. Kei’s tongue slips into your mouth, and you moan loudly into his, Nicho and Euijoo filling you deliciously. They both move inside of you at different paces. Two different rhythms, two different tempos, and it’s about to make you fall apart embarrassingly quickly.
“My god, s-so fucking tight. I’m not gonna last long, jagiya.” Euijoo discloses, Nicho nodding in agreement.
“Look at her, boys. So fucking cock drunk. You like them filling both of your holes, princess?” Kei taunts, his words only making it harder to hold back your orgasm.
“Y-yes! Fuck!” You nearly scream, their paces quickening as you all become more used to the situation. “C-close!” You cry out, tears stinging your eyes again, this time from the extreme pleasure they’re giving you.
“Sweetheart is crying because you’re both fucking her so good. How cute.” Kei mocks, placing kisses all over your face.
“One more time, baby. Cum for us.” Nicho whispers in your ear, and you rest your forehead on top of his, sweat beading together as your body tenses, your high hitting you like a truck one last time for the night. You clench around their cocks, both holes pulsating, making them cum almost simultaneously, filling you up completely. They fuck you through your high, as well as theirs, pausing for a moment before sliding out of you, Euijoo first, Nicho following suit. You collapse forward on Nicho, who curls you inward, wrapping your limp body around him. Euijoo pulls his boxers back on and slips into the bathroom. You hear water running from your bathtub faucet, Euijoo preparing a bath to soak your soon-to-be aching body. After a few minutes the water turns off and he enters the room again.
“C’mon baby.” Kei scoops you into his arms, carrying you into the bathroom, placing you gently down into the warm water, filled with suds. Nicho redresses, he and Euijoo following behind Kei to join you in the bathroom, desperate to take care of you, to make sure you’re okay.
“Thank you.” You begin, voice weak from exhaustion as they sit before you, directly outside the tub. “For everything.”
