🍓

for my blue … .° ༘ 🩹⋆

[bunheee]

intro & navi ! ⋆˙⟡♡

ky :: 21yo :: ‘04 :: they/she lesbian ! 🐈‍⬛

in2yourblue lvr <3

contains 18+ content ; mdni ! minors/ageless blogs will be blocked !

LOOOONG writing hiatus ! reblog heavy :)

m.list | guidelines

please note ! :3

i write in all lowercase

criticism and opinions are always welcome, but hate will not be tolerated and will result in a block :3

my account is very reblog heavy and multifandom

[smidare-archive]

I love ur writing smm and I hope you're doing well!

I loved that vamp!reader x taki fic, was was wondering if you could make a vamp!yuma w/ neck biting?? 👀 no pressure of course!

yuma is def a biter already, can u imagine if he was a vampire? god, you would be marked upppp

【 18+ 】 tw ──── vampire!yuma . . suggestive, biting.  don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.

“ughhhhh, i’m starving,” he whined, voice pitched high in that needy tone you knew too well. he flopped down next to you, closer than necessary, his cool body pressing against your side. even after all this time knowing his secret, the chill of his skin still sent a little shiver through you. “you have no idea how hard it is to behave around you when i haven't eaten.”

you rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “you’re always like this, yuma. you are just like a big dramatic vampire baby.”

he pouted, big brown eyes narrowing playfully as he draped an arm around your shoulders. “baby? i’m older than you by like… 200 years. rude.” his fingers traced lazy circles on your arm, flirty as ever, but there was an edge to it tonight—his gaze kept drifting to your neck. “come on… just a little taste? i’ll be gentle. promise.”

you knew that look. the one where his usual playful flirting turned hungry. your best friend, the vampire who swore he’d never cross that line unless you wanted him to. but lately that line had been blurring more and more.

“yuma…” you warned half-heartedly.

he shifted, suddenly lifting you to straddle his lap with that supernatural speed, his hands gripping at the skin of your waist, silver hair falling messily over his forehead. “pleaseeeee?” he whined again, voice dropping into a breathy murmur that made your pulse jump. “i’ve been thinking about it all day. your scent is driving me crazy. just… right here.” his lips brushed your jaw, cool and teasing. “i’ll make it feel good. you know i will.”

your breath hitched as he nuzzled lower, nose trailing along the column of your throat. he inhaled deeply, a soft, needy sound escaping him. “you’re so warm… so perfect. my favorite human.” his tongue flicked out, tasting your skin, and you felt his fangs graze lightly—enough to tease, not break the surface yet.

one hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head to the side with surprising gentleness. “say yes,” he murmured against your pulse, lips brushing with every word. “i want to hear you say it. tell your favorite vampire he can have a little bite… just for tonight.”

his hips grinded up subtly, a suggestive roll that made it very clear this wasn’t only about blood. yuma’s flirting had always been like this—playful, needy, impossible to resist. you felt his breath—cool, uneven—fan over the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder.

“fine,” you whispered, fingers threading into his hair.

that was all it took. a delighted, almost relieved whine left his throat as his fangs sank in—sharp but careful, the initial sting melting almost instantly into a rush of heat that spread through your body like liquid fire. yuma moaned softly against your skin, sucking with lazy, indulgent pulls, his body trembling slightly from restraint and pleasure. one hand gripped your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he rocked against you in a slow, suggestive rhythm.

“mmm… so good,” he gasped between swallows, voice husky and slightly broken. “taste even better when you’re all flushed like this.” he licked the bite mark soothingly, fangs retracting, but his mouth stayed on your neck—kissing, nipping, sucking little marks that would definitely show tomorrow.

“hey!— i said you could drink. not mark me up!”

he let out a laugh, pulling back slightly to rest his forehead on your shoulder. nose brushing against the fresh teeth marks in your neck.

“well how else are other vampire’s gonna know that you're my meal?"

you huffed out a laugh, half-exasperated, half-flustered, as you shoved lightly at his chest. “your meal? possessive much?”

yuma lifted his head just enough to grin at you, fangs still peeking out, eyes half-lidded and glowing with that dangerous mix of affection and hunger. a thin trail of your blood still clung to his lower lip. “mmm, extremely.”

“you just don’t get it.” he whined, voice all breathy and needy

he ducked back down, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss right over the fresh bite marks, tongue dragging lazily across them like he couldn’t help himself.

you shivered hard, fingers tightening in his silver hair. “yuma—”

yuma’s voice dropped into that sweet, breathy tone as he nuzzled deeper into your neck, lips brushing the fresh marks he’d left. “you did so well… what if i repay you? yeah?”

“mmm... i could use my mouth…” he kissed lower, dragging his lips down the center of your throat, then across your collarbone. “or my hands…” his fingers danced teasingly along the waistband of your pants, dipping just underneath. “whatever you want. i’m really good at repaying favors, promise.”

© smidare 2026ㅤ ❤︎ㅤ likes & reposts r appreciated!

[jaysbaefie]

AITA? | psh

synopsis: in which you post about the most insufferable guy in your class on an AITA thread, only to find someone in the comments defending him a little too passionately.

genre: enemies to lovers??

pairing: insufferable!sunghoon x menace!reader

warnings: sexual tension, so many gawddamn arguments, some eye fucking from sunghoon’s behalf, lowkey bratty!reader, dom!hoon, semi-public sex, washroom sex, spitting, choking, oral (m rec.), fingering, biting, mirror sex, so much degrading, begging, spanking, slapping, teasing, unprotected p in v (don’t do it…), creampie, light cum play…i think that’s it…

wc: 13k

a/n: i love me some enemies to lovers i feel ashamed 😔😋 anyways after almost 3 months ya gurl is back w anotha banger 😛😛 warning, this isn’t edited properly i did like a quick read over or 2 and ran out of patience. ill sit down months later to revise it (no i wont). as always, notes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. enjoy :p

˙𐃷˙

the literature lecture hall buzzed quietly with the usual sounds of a monday morning class—keyboard typing, coffee lids snapping shut, chairs dragging lazily across the floor.

rain streaked against the tall windows beside you, grey light spilling across rows of half-awake university students while professor choi clicked through his lecture slides at the front.

this class was your last pick and you were barely listening until the next discussion question appeared on the board.

what does meursault's emotional detachment represent?

professor choi adjusted his thick framed circle glasses.

"thoughts?"

and then, unfortunately, park sunghoon raised his hand.

you already knew this was about to piss you off. your face twisting into one of pure disgust before the man even opened his mouth.

sunghoon sat three rows ahead of you, posture relaxed, one arm slung over the back of his chair like he owned the lecture hall. he didn't even look interested in the discussion, which somehow made it more annoying whenever he spoke and everyone listened anyway.

professor choi nodded toward him."go ahead."

sunghoon spoke evenly, like a corrupt politician who was going to promise world peace. like he was delivering some groundbreaking intellectual revelation instead of absolute nonsense.

"i think the novel critiques performative emotion more than emotional detachment itself."

you narrowed your eyes immediately. all you could hear was blah blah blah meh meh meh.

sunghoon continued, his tongue jutting out to wet his lips so the bullshit he was going to spew would come out smoother.

"society condemns meursault not because he committed murder, but because he doesn't react the way people expect him to emotionally. he refuses to fake grief, guilt, remorse—"

"because he doesn't have any," you interrupted flatly.

a few heads turned instantly, students giving each other knowing looks.  sunghoon glanced over his shoulder at you.

not irritated. oh no no, worse. he was amused.

"that's an oversimplification." he clicked, leaning his head back to the front to give professor choi a lazy look that basically said 'you see what's happening here?'

"no," you said. "you're just romanticizing emotional incompetence because the author used fancy wording."

a quiet snort came from somewhere behind you causing sunghoon to turn fully in his seat now. "you think the entire point of the novel is that he's a bad person?"

"i think the point is that detachment isn't inherently profound just because a man is quiet."

that got a reaction, small and subtle. a couple students trying not to laugh, their binders going up to hide their facial expressions as professor choi gave them a warning look.

sunghoon's eyes narrowed slightly for the first time.

finally.

"you're reducing existentialism to a personality flaw."

"and you're treating basic human empathy like it's optional."

professor choi opened his mouth and closed it again. probably deciding it was safer not to interfere yet.

sunghoon rested his arm against the desk beside him. "the novel literally argues that societal expectations of emotion are artificial."

"okay, but there's a difference between rejecting social performance and acting like a disconnected freak."

sunghoon gave you a look at the last word, "interesting choice of wording."

"oh please," you scoffed. "you're acting like meursault is some misunderstood visionary when really he's just emotionally constipated."

someone coughed to hide a laugh and sunghoon's jaw ticked slightly.

barely noticeable, but you noticed. because you notice everything about park sunghoon, the good and the bad. unfortunately, more of the good which was all physical. nothing mental of course, the man had an IQ of a turnip.

arguing with park sunghoon had become a skill you'd accidentally perfected over the past two years. he always looked composed, always calm. but there were little tells and small cracks. tiny expressions that appeared when you pushed hard enough.

and right now? he was getting annoyed.

good.

"you're too emotionally reactive to engage with the text objectively," he said, his dark eyes boring into your own as if he was trying to get under your skin.

which, to be fair, he was. you knew that, and he definitely knew that.

you let out a short laugh. "and you think sounding detached makes you intelligent."

his gaze held yours for a second too long. steady and sharp. "maybe i just know how to separate emotion from analysis."

"maybe you just enjoy hearing yourself talk."

sunghoon tilted his head slightly, "you've interrupted me four times."

"because every sentence somehow gets worse."

a few quiet laughs spread through the room again. you saw professor choi pinch the bridge of his nose from the corner of your eye.

sunghoon looked entirely unbothered by the class watching. if anything, he looked more focused now.

like he enjoyed this, he enjoyed the attention he was receiving. the perfect spotlight to argue with a classmate. which made you irrationally angrier. "you're intentionally ignoring nuance."

"and you're intentionally making this deeper than it actually is."

"literature is supposed to be analyzed deeply."

"not every quiet man with a god complex is philosophically revolutionary, sunghoon."

that one landed, hard. his brows lifted slightly and the room went quieter. you could practically feel everyone pretending not to listen now.

sunghoon leaned back slowly in his chair. still staring at you, not daring to break eye contact.

"you know," he said lightly, "for someone who claims i'm insufferable, you spend an impressive amount of time thinking about my opinions."

your stomach flipped in annoyance. strictly annoyance.

"trust me," you replied sweetly, "criticizing you is not a difficult intellectual exercise."

the corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile. which only irritated you more because why did he look entertained right now?

"you get weirdly passionate whenever i disagree with you."

"because you say insane things with unnecessary confidence."

"and yet you always argue back."

you opened your mouth immediately. "because someone has to humble you."

sunghoon's eyes flicked briefly down toward your mouth before returning to your eyes so quickly you almost thought you imagined it.

almost.

then he said quietly, "you've been trying for two years."

your heartbeat stumbled once, completely involuntary by the way. and judging by the sudden silence in the lecture hall, several other people noticed the shift too.

professor choi finally sighed loudly enough to cut through the tension.

"well," he muttered dryly, "this has certainly been more engaging than most of your discussion contributions."

a few students laughed softly.

you tore your gaze away from sunghoon first, reaching for your pen like your pulse hadn't just betrayed you for absolutely no reason.

meanwhile, across the room, sunghoon leaned back in his chair again.

looking entirely too pleased with himself.

˙𐃷˙

by the time professor choi dismissed the class, the atmosphere in the lecture hall felt weirdly charged.

like everyone had just witnessed something they definitely shouldn't have.

chairs scraped against the floor as students packed up their bags, conversations immediately erupting around the room.

you shoved your laptop into your tote aggressively, muttering curses about the boy who shall not be named.

mostly because you could still feel park sunghoon's smug expression somewhere in your peripheral vision.

you hated him and his stupid fucking beautiful face.

the worst part was that he never even looked genuinely angry during your arguments. no matter how heated things got, sunghoon always stayed calm—relaxed posture, steady voice, slightly amused expression like he was watching you self-destruct for entertainment.

it was infuriating.

sunoo appeared beside your desk, slinging his bag over one shoulder. "you know," he said casually, "that was kind of the highlight of my week."

you glared at your so called best friend, "you're sick."

"no seriously," sunoo grinned. "when you called him emotionally constipated i almost started clapping."

you huffed, standing up. "he deserved worse." together, you and sunoo started toward the lecture hall doors with the crowd of students funneling out into the hallway.

except—someone was standing near the exit.

waiting, wearing a black hoodie. arms crossed loosely.

park sunghoon.

of course he was, because the argument that had erupted during class just wasn't enough for this troll doll. your steps slowed instinctively and sunoo noticed immediately, his smile widened, ear to ear.

fucking traitor.

sunghoon's eyes found yours through the crowd almost instantly. calm as ever and annoyingly unreadable.

then, as you got closer, he pushed himself off the wall.

you already knew he was about to say something irritating, you could feel it.

sunghoon stepped aside just enough to let other students pass before leaning slightly closer toward you.

close enough that you caught the clean scent of his cologne beneath the lingering smell of coffee and rain.

"for someone who hates my opinions," he murmured quietly, "you seem obsessed with hearing them."

you stopped walking and slowly turned your head toward him. you hated how you had to crank your head up to make eye contact with him, the height difference between you two surrendering your loss.

"and for someone who claims to be emotionally detached," you replied sweetly, "you sure spend a lot of time trying to get my attention."

sunghoon's mouth twitched, that stupid almost-smile again. he looked down at you at with this look that you couldn't quite identify.

"see you monday." you hope one of you don't make it to monday, preferably him.

you stared at him for one long second, really stared. at his stupid face. his stupid sharp jawline. his stupid pretty mouth that constantly said the most unbearable things imaginable.

then you walked away before you committed a felony.

sunoo was already laughing beside you. "OH my god," he breathed. "you two are unbelievable."

"he's unbelievable," you snapped immediately, a faint flush covering your face and neck.

sunoo hummed, clearly unconvinced. he was your best friend since elementary school, he knew exactly what this was.

the hallway buzzed with students moving between lectures while rain hammered softly against the windows lining the corridor. you shoved through the doors toward the outside courtyard, irritation simmering hotter with every passing second.

"i genuinely cannot wait until i graduate," you muttered. "the second i get my degree i'm never seeing that freak again."

sunoo snorted, looking at your pink tinted cheeks with a grin. "you still have two years left."

your eye twitched at the realization.

right.

two more years.

two more years of literature classes and discussion boards and seeing park sunghoon sitting three rows ahead of you looking annoyingly composed all the time.

you groaned dramatically. "i can't do this anymore."

sunoo bumped your shoulder lightly. "you've survived two years already."

"barely."

the more you thought about him, the angrier you got. because sunghoon was the exact type of person that's easy to hate.

too calm. too smug. too aware of how intelligent he was. and worst of all—too attractive for absolutely no reason.

everything about him irritated you.

his stupid perfect smile whenever he thought he'd won an argument. his stupidly long fingers tapping against his desk during lectures. the way his hoodies stretched across his broad shoulders.

the fact that he somehow looked composed even when everyone else looked exhausted during midterms.

it was deeply, deeply annoying.

you physically smacked yourself in the forehead.

sunoo blinked at your sudden outburst. "what was that for?"

"nothing."

sunoo narrowed his eyes. then slowly—dangerously—he smiled. "oh my god."

you frowned immediately, not liking the way he was smiling down at you. "what."

"i think you might be the issue."

you stopped walking so abruptly someone nearly walked into your shoulder. "excuse me?"

sunoo shrugged innocently. "i'm just saying."

"how the hell am i the issue?"

"you do start a lot of the arguments."

you stared at him in betrayal. "because he says ridiculous things."

"sometimes."

"all the time."

sunoo hummed thoughtfully, not agreeing, which was offensive. why is your best friend not blindly supporting you even when you're probably wrong, which you aren't, but even if you were—the fuck?

you scoffed loudly. "sunghoon is literally the one who started this whole thing."

and he had, freshman year. first semester.

he'd corrected one of your points during a class discussion with that calm, mildly condescending tone of his and something inside you had immediately gone: absolutely not.

listen you can take criticism, just not from that man specifically.

ever since then, every interaction between you had turned into some kind of competition. you couldn't help it. sunghoon always acted so composed, so polished, so annoyingly perfect that it made you want to knock him down a level, or several.

sunoo shoved his hands into his pockets. "okay but maybe if you stopped interacting with him—"

"impossible."

"you didn't even let me finish."

"because you're wrong."

sunoo laughed softly, knowing damn well that nothing he was going to say would penetrate through your thick skull. "you could just ignore him."

you looked at him like he'd suggested murder.

ignore park sunghoon? absolutely not.

that sounded suspiciously like losing. sunoo noticed your expression immediately and burst out laughing. "see? that's exactly what i mean."

you crossed your arms. "i am not the problem here."

sunoo just gave you a look. one of those deeply irritating best friend looks that implied he knew you better than you knew yourself.

which, unfortunately, he probably did.

you pulled your phone out of your pocket causing sunoo to raise a brow.

"what are you doing?"

"i'm getting unbiased opinions."

"from who?"

you opened reddit with complete confidence and sunoo immediately groaned.

"oh no."

˙𐃷˙

your dorm room was suspiciously quiet except for the aggressive tapping of your keyboard.

sunoo sat cross-legged at the end of your bed eating gummy bears straight from the bag while watching you with the exact same expression people have witnessing a public breakup.

concern mixed with entertainment.

you ignored him. because right now you were busy crafting the most objectively accurate reddit post ever written.

the glow from your laptop lit your face as you reread the title for the fifth time.

AITA for telling a guy in my class to shut up because he thinks he's always right?

perfect. concise. truthful.

you cracked your knuckles dramatically before continuing to type. sunoo snorted from the other side, picking out all the red gummies before stuffing them into his mouth.

- there's this guy in one of my university classes and he is genuinely one of the most irritating people i've ever met.

he's quiet but in a pretentious way? like he thinks being emotionally constipated makes him intelligent. he corrects EVERYONE during discussions and somehow always sounds smug even when he's technically being polite.

the worst part is that he's annoyingly good at everything. presentations? perfect. essays? perfect. participation? professor's favourite somehow.

one time i got a question wrong during class and this man literally smirked at me. SMIRKED. like a disney villain.

today we got into an argument during lecture because he was saying some pseudo intellectual nonsense and i told him to shut up because nobody cares about his superiority complex anymore.

now some people are saying i overreacted but i genuinely think he needed to be humbled.

AITA? -

you hit post.

then immediately grabbed your phone while bouncing slightly in your seat.

sunoo stared at you with mild distaste. "you look like you just launched a cyber attack."

"i'm right and soon the public will confirm it."

sunoo snorted. "you're insane."

the first comment appeared almost instantly.

you gasped dramatically. "OH MY GOD." sunoo leaned over slightly as you opened it, rolling his eyes as soon as he read the first word.

- NTA this guy sounds like if a philosophy podcast became a person. -

you slapped sunoo's arm excitedly."SEE?"

another comment appeared.

- girl stand UP. why are you letting a man who's probably named after a victorian disease humble you in public -

you folded over laughing, sunghoon was a disease alright. a disease that would rot and corrupt your brain before leading you to your own destruction.

sunoo grabbed your laptop before you dropped it off the bed. "okay that one was funny."

more comments flooded in rapidly and sunoo watched as your expression morphed into one of pure joy. like a kid who had just walked into a candy shop with an unlimited budget and no parental supervision.

- NTA he sounds insufferable. - ESH you both sound annoying but in a sexual tension way. -

you frowned, "what does that even mean?"

sunoo looked away suspiciously fast, hiding his smirk.

another one.

- i know EXACTLY the type of man you're talking about. probably wears silver jewelry and thinks eye contact is a personality trait. -

your jaw dropped. "THEY GET ME."

sunoo popped another gummy bear into his mouth, eyeing you. "or maybe you're describing every business major ever."

you ignored him because the comments were getting better by the second.

- does he perchance look like this: 🗿 -

"OH MY GOD." he totally does.

- girl he likes you. ⤷ no literally this sounds like academic enemies to lovers fanfiction. -

"okay why does everyone keep saying that," you muttered, a deep frown now etched on your face. you were beginning to not like where these comments were headed.

sunoo made a noncommittal noise. you narrowed your eyes at him briefly before scrolling again.

- i'm crying at "emotionally constipated." please cook him again. - next class hit him with "you're not beating the pretentious allegations." - ask him if he learned emotional intelligence from patrick bateman edits and sigma bro podcasts lol. -

you physically wheezed, your body folding over in laughter. sunoo shook his head slowly, watching you upvote every single comment that dissed sunghoon.

"you're enjoying this way too much."

"because i'm finally being validated."

you pointed accusingly at him. "unlike SOME people."

sunoo rolled his eyes before muttering, "whatever bitch."

another comment appeared.

- INFO: is he actually arrogant or are you just threatened because he's smarter than you? -

your smile vanished instantly. "BOOOOO."

you downvoted it immediately, sunoo burst out laughing. "you are NOT supposed to interact emotionally with the comments."

"they interacted emotionally with ME first."

you kept scrolling, feeling increasingly euphoric as strangers across the internet continued confirming what you'd known all along: park sunghoon was deeply irritating.

the comments only got more ridiculous from there.

- "he smirked at you after you got a question wrong" oh huny he wants you BAD. - this sounds less like hatred and more like unresolved yearning. - enemies to lovers ahh post. -

"unresolved yearning?" you repeated aloud in horror.

oh fuck no.

sunoo was smiling now. not laughing. no no, he was smiling.

which was somehow worse, you turned your head slowly to shoot him a glare, "what."

he shrugged. "nothing."

you narrowed your eyes suspiciously then looked back at your screen.

another comment. this one longer.

- honestly i think you're leaving out context. from your own description, it sounds like he was trying to engage in discussion normally and you took it personally because you already dislike him. -

your smile faltered slightly.

who the fuck was this? and why the fuck do they think they know the situation?

the comment continued:

- correcting people during literary discussions isn't arrogance if he's contributing meaningful analysis. also, calling someone "emotionally constipated" because they interpret a book differently than you is kind of ironic. -

you scoffed loudly. "OH BROTHER." get a load of this guy, why don't they just go and suck sunghoon's dick at this point.

sunoo leaned closer, reading the comment out loud "wait that one kinda—"

"no."

you clicked reply immediately, your fingers flying across the keyboard.

- if you defend people like this i just KNOW nobody likes you in real life. -

sunoo let out a disbelieving laugh. "you're fighting civilians now?"

"they started it."

your reply posted and within less than thirty seconds— the person responded.

- bold assumption coming from someone who wrote an entire essay about a classmate because he annoyed her. -

you froze and slowly sat up straighter. you felt your face tense in what you can only identify as pure raw anger.

sunoo noticed instantly when your face went from. mildly annoyed to baboon ass red. "what."

your eyes narrowed at the screen. something about the reply irritated you immediately. the tone. calm. slightly condescending. annoyingly articulate.

...absolutely not. no way.

you started typing again with renewed aggression. you stared at the username with pure hatred.

notniceprince02

your eye twitched, something about it already annoyed you. the reply sat there on your screen like a personal attack.

calm and smug. condescending in a weirdly articulate way that made you want to throw your laptop across the room.

sunoo leaned closer from beside you. "what happened?"

you pointed aggressively at the screen. "this person thinks i'm the problem."

sunoo made a face. "well..."

you slowly turned toward him eyes like slits and your mouth scrunched. "choose your next words carefully." sunoo immediately looked back down at his gummy bears.

fucking coward.

you cracked your fingers dramatically before typing a response.

- sorry i didn't realize his defense attorney was in the comments section. should i call you next time he starts acting like a rejected sherlock holmes adaptation? -

you hit reply with satisfaction, finally letting out the breath of anger you had taken earlier,

sunoo blinked. "you type like you're in a duel."

"because i am."

less than a minute later—another response.

- maybe people correct you often because you're wrong often. -

you gasped so loudly sunoo nearly dropped the gummy bear bag. "OH this bitch."

you didn't know who this person was but you are not the one to be fucked with like this. your fingers flew over the keyboard with new found passion.

- and maybe you defend emotionally detached weirdos online because you see yourself in him. -

reply posted and the response came back almost immediately.

- emotionally detached = calm emotional instability = writing reddit essays because a guy disagreed with you in class -

sunoo physically leaned forward now the gummy bears had been abandoned.

"okay wait," he said slowly. "this is getting good."

you ignored him, mostly because your blood pressure was rising.

- if being calm means acting like a pretentious AI generated philosophy quote then congratulations i guess. -

reply and instant response.

- if being intelligent sounds pretentious to you that might be a personal issue. -

your jaw dropped. "PERSONAL ISSUE?"

sunoo was trying not to laugh, badly. you glared at him before pushing at his shoulder hard enough to have him almost fall of your bed. unlucky for you, he managed to catch his balance and stay seated next to you with a dumb grin on his face.

"i'm sorry but they kinda cooked you there."

"whose side are you on?" fucking twink.

"the entertainment's."

traitor.

you sat up straighter on the bed, narrowing your eyes at the screen like notniceprince02 had personally wronged your entire bloodline.

- you sound exactly like the guy i'm talking about btw. same superiority complex. same "i think i'm the smartest person in every room" energy. -

the response appeared almost immediately, which somehow irritated you more. did this person have no life? fighting with strangers on the internet like a loser.

this doesn't apply to you of course.

- maybe you're just intimidated by people who challenge you intellectually. -

you stared at the screen in disbelief.

sunoo let out a quiet whistle. "they hit a nerve?"

"i'm going to hit THEM."

you typed furiously, your thumbs cramping up but you don't let weak things like this stop you.

- intellectually challenge me? please. this man raises his hand in class like he's announcing a new world order then says the most pseudo intellectual nonsense you've ever heard. -

response.

- interesting. you seem to remember his class participation very vividly. -

you froze for like half a second and then scoffed loudly.

because it's TRAUMATIZING. not because you care enough to remember, but because it's shocked itself into the crevices of your brain.

sunoo snorted while you kept going.

- he literally smirks when people get answers wrong. do you know how deeply punchable that is? -

response.

- maybe he smirks because your reactions are dramatic. -

you narrowed your eyes dangerously. this conversation, more like argument, felt more natural that you'd like to admit.

- okay now i KNOW you're him. -

sunoo's brows shot up immediately. hold on...

you pointed at the screen frantically. "LOOK AT HOW HE TYPES."

sunoo leaned closer, the two of you stared silently at the replies for a moment. then—sunoo slowly looked at you. "that actually does sound like him."

"THANK YOU." validation surged through your body instantly. you pointed aggressively at the laptop. "RIGHT? the annoying calmness? the fake intellectual wording? the superiority complex?"

sunoo tilted his head, a shit eating grin plastered on his porcelain face. "you know him disturbingly well."

"unfortunately."

another reply appeared.

- i think it's funny how much attention you pay to someone you supposedly dislike. -

you barked out a laugh, completely humorless.

- oh my god. you ARE him. -

response.

- and if i was? -

you sat there, staring. sunoo sat there too, also staring. the room suddenly felt strangely quiet as you squinted at the screen.

"why did that make me mad."

sunoo was smiling again, that knowing smile. you hated that smile.

"because you think it might actually be him."

"it's not him."

"mhm."

"it's just some annoying reddit user." another response appeared before you could keep ranting.

- for the record, if this guy really is as arrogant as you claim, why do you keep engaging with him? -

you rolled your eyes instantly.

- because someone has to humble him. -

reply.

- sounds more like obsession. -

you gasped, like actually gasped. you? obsessed with sunghoon? out of all the people in this world? fuck no.

sunoo folded over laughing. "OH MY GOD."

"OBSESSION?" you typed so aggressively the keyboard started clacking violently.

- you people see a man and woman arguing and immediately think there's romantic tension. have you considered that i simply think he's irritating and unfortunate-looking? -

sunoo looked at you, slowly. "unfortunate-looking?"

you avoided eye contact because unfortunately that part wasn't true. at all. which was deeply annoying. you hated how you couldn't get away with dissing his appearance because as much as you hate to admit it, there was nothing to pick at.

another reply.

- unfortunate-looking yet you described his facial expressions in detail. -

you froze. sunoo froze. your eyes slowly widened as you stared at sunoo who looked equally as surprised as you.

"..."

sunoo pointed at the screen. "THAT IS ABSOLUTELY HIM."

"SHUT UP."

˙𐃷˙

by the next morning, your hatred for user notniceprince02 had evolved into something genuinely concerning.

your phone had been vibrating nonstop since eight in the morning.

every. two. seconds.

ping.

ping.

PING.

another reply. another argument. another smug paragraph typed in that calm, annoyingly articulate tone that made your blood pressure spike on sight.

you sat in the student lounge with your laptop open and your phone in your hand simultaneously, responding across two devices like a woman fighting in active warfare.

sunoo sat across from you, fully invested now. having the thread opened on his laptop as he watched you type out responses like it was war.

classes? irrelevant. education? secondary.

this reddit argument had become the main event.

"you've replied to him thirty-seven times just in this past hour " sunoo said.

"thirty-eight." you hit send aggressively and sunoo blinked in pure shock.

"that was immediate."

"because he's wrong." your phone buzzed again and you looked down instantly.

- notniceprince02: "you keep proving my point by reacting emotionally to everything." -

you scoffed so loudly the two people at the next table glanced over.

"OH my god." your fingers slammed against the keyboard.

- sorry i forgot being emotionally unavailable is apparently a personality trait now. -

send.

and would you look at that, a response within seconds.

- no, but making hating one guy your entire personality definitely is. -

you stared at the screen with a scowl etched on your face. offended, deeply offended.

sunoo leaned over your shoulder to see you clutching your phone was a grip that would shatter your screen. then immediately started laughing. "okay no because why does this genuinely sound like sunghoon."

"it's NOT him."

"__."

"it's just some weird sigma male ass kisser who probably listens to podcasts hosted by divorced men."

sunoo snorted. "that sounds exactly like something you'd accuse sunghoon of."

you ignored him because your phone buzzed again—another reply.

- you seem weirdly committed to misunderstanding him. -

you rolled your eyes so hard it physically hurt. at this point you wondered how many people at the library thought something was mentally wrong with you.

- and you seem weirdly committed to defending him. is this his burner account or are you just in love with him? -

send.

sunoo nearly choked. "OH?"

"what?"

"you're spiraling."

"i'm WINNING."

sunoo pointed at your screen, a thread of reddit beef that's exceeded an appropriate limit. "this does not look like winning."

you frowned at the ongoing thread. unfortunately, it had become one of the top comments under your post. people were fully invested now with random users jumping into the argument just to spectate.

some were taking sides while others were making it worse, much worse.

- y'all are literally flirting. - this is the most enemies to lovers thing i've ever read. - somebody invite me to the wedding. - "irl academic rivals is CRAZY." -

you physically recoiled at the thought of being shipped with that garden troll of a man. "what is WRONG with people?"

sunoo looked way too entertained. "they kinda have a point."

"they absolutely do not."

another comment:

- at this point just kiss and get it over with.    ⤷ i would rather chew denim. -

you typed immediately, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. this was the last thing you had expected as an outcome when you posted on reddit.

sunoo burst out laughing. "chew denim?"

"i'm emotional."

your phone buzzed again.

- notniceprince02: "that's dramatic." -

your eye twitched as you read the message out loud. "HE KEEPS SAYING THAT." people had now physically turned on their seats to look at the two of you with curious and annoyed looks in their eyes.

sunoo pointed accusingly at you while gives others a apologetic smile.  "because you ARE dramatic." he whispered to you harshly all while motioning you to shut the fuck up.

"you're both against me."

"no," sunoo corrected. "i just think this is the funniest thing that's happened all semester."

you glared at him before standing abruptly, grabbing your phone. "i'm going to the washroom."

if sunoo wasn't going to appreciate this properly, then some girl in the stall next to you will.  sunoo hummed absently. "tell your boyfriend i said hi if he replies again."

"die."

you walked off before he could keep talking.

the hallways buzzed with students moving between lectures, conversations overlapping with the sound of footsteps and lockers shutting nearby.

your phone buzzed again and without looking up, you immediately started typing.

- no, because at this point you're defending him like you want him carnally. -

send.

you turned the corner toward the washrooms—and slammed directly into someone.

hard.

your shoulder collided with a solid chest and your phone nearly flew out of your hand.

"shit—"

steady hands caught your arms before you stumbled backward. familiar hands. long fingers curling briefly around your sleeves.

your stomach dropped instantly, because of course.

of fucking COURSE.

park sunghoon looked down at you with mild surprise, dark hair slightly messy like he'd been running his hands through it all morning. a pair of headphones rested around his neck, black hoodie sleeves pushed to his forearms.

and unfortunately—unfairly—he looked really good today.

which immediately irritated you, because how dare he have a shit personality and look good while ruining your mood by just breathing in your vicinity.

sunghoon glanced at your death grip on your phone before meeting your eyes again, a small smirk playing on his pink plush lips.

"you should probably watch where you're going." his voice was calm, low and slightly amused.

you narrowed your eyes instantly. "maybe people would move if they weren't standing in the middle of hallways like decorative statues."

one corner of his mouth lifted slightly. there it was, that stupid almost-smile. you hated that stupid almost-smile.

sunghoon's gaze flicked downward briefly. to your phone screen which was still open to reddit. your heart stopped for half a second because the thread was visible. very visible. and at the top of the screen sat a fresh notification from—notniceprince02 replied to your comment

sunghoon's eyes lingered on the notification then slowly lifted back to yours.

silence. your brain short-circuited instantly, no. absolutely not. there was no way. sunghoon looked at you for one long second before asking casually, "still fighting with strangers online?"

your entire body went still, just for a second. because there was absolutely no way—no actual way.

sunghoon stood there holding your arm loosely, thumb brushing the fabric of your sleeve while your phone screen glowed between you both like evidence in a criminal investigation.

notniceprince02 replied to your comment.

your brain was buffering. loading. malfunctioning.

sunghoon's expression remained frustratingly neutral but there was something there. something subtle: amusement.

your eyes narrowed immediately. "why are you looking at my phone?"

smooth. good recovery. yup yup.

sunghoon let go of your arm slowly, way too slowly. "hard not to when you almost tackled me with it."

you scoffed, "you were standing in my way."

"you walked directly into me."

"semantics."

sunghoon hummed quietly as his gaze flicked toward your screen again and then back to you.

"so," he said lightly, "what stranger online managed to upset you this badly?"

your grip tightened around your phone instantly. absolutely not. you were NOT about to entertain sunoo's ridiculous theory.

"nobody."

sunghoon raised a brow, "you look homicidal."

"maybe that's just your effect on people." you retorted back almost automatically. you wonder if you've ever responded to sunghoon in a normal way.

that stupid almost-smile appeared again. small and annoyingly attractive. you hated it, like actually hated it.

sunghoon tilted his head slightly. "you know," he murmured, "you get strangely defensive whenever i ask simple questions."

your stomach flipped in irritation, strictly irritation. "and you get strangely nosy for someone who acts emotionally detached all the time."

his eyes held yours for a second longer than necessary, steady and focused. like he was trying to figure something out.

the hallway around you blurred into noise and somehow you were still standing there.

too close to him, way too close.

you noticed stupid things at the worst possible times, like the faint scent of his cologne or the tiny mole near his neck. or the fact that his hair fell into his eyes slightly when he looked down at you like this.

deeply irritating.

sunghoon's gaze flicked briefly toward your mouth before returning upward so quickly you almost thought you imagined it.

almost.

"what?" you snapped immediately. you could feel a small flush cover your cheeks and neck at the thought of sunghoon sneaking glances at your lips. maybe he thought you looked really slapable right now, or really kissable. it hurt your ego to think that either one of those things were deemed acceptable to you.

his brows lifted slightly. "nothing."

liar.

you narrowed your eyes harder. "you're being weird."

"you say that every time you don't know how to respond."

your jaw dropped at his audacity. "i always know how to respond."

"mhm."

that stupid calm tone again. you wanted to bite him. which—bad wording. very bad wording.

sunghoon watched your expression shift in real time and something in his face changed slightly. like he noticed the exact moment your thoughts betrayed you.

horrifying. absolutely horrifying.

you recovered immediately, sort of. "why are you even talking to me right now?" you asked. "don't you have some freshmen discussion group to intellectually terrorize?"

sunghoon laughed quietly under his breath—actually laughed. and it caught you so off guard that you momentarily forgot to stay angry.

which made you angrier. "you're the one who ran into me."

"unfortunately."

"yet you're still standing here."

you opened your mouth then closed it. sunghoon noticed, of course he noticed. the only thing he doesn't seem to notice is his mouth opening and closing with cow noises spilling out during class.

the corner of his mouth twitched again. "that's new," he said softly.

"what is?"

"you being speechless." your face heated instantly, not because of him.

obviously.

you crossed your arms defensively. "you're unbelievably annoying."

"and yet," sunghoon said calmly, stepping slightly closer, "you keep talking to me."

your heartbeat stumbled. just once. which was unacceptable.

because now he was close enough that you could see every tiny detail in his expression—the faint curve of amusement in his eyes, the way his lips kept threatening to smile fully.

he looked way too pleased with himself. you hated that too. a group of students walked past nearby and one of them whispered: "there's no way they're not dating."

you whipped your head around instantly. "WE'RE NOT—"

sunghoon's hand suddenly landed lightly against the wall beside your head. not trapping you, but enough to make your words catch awkwardly in your throat.

his expression remained perfectly calm which somehow made the gesture worse. "you're loud when you're flustered," he said quietly.

your brain short-circuited. flustered? FLUSTERED?

you stared at him in disbelief. "i am not flustered."

sunghoon hummed, completely unconvinced as he reached into his pocket to slip out his phone. your pulse was going insane now for reasons you refused to examine.

then—your phone buzzed loudly between you both.

the notification lit up the screen and your head snapped down, unlocking your phone to see something that only made your heart drop to your gut.

- notniceprince02: "you still haven't answered my question." -

silence.

sunghoon looked down at the notification then slowly back up at you. and this time—this time he smiled properly.

small. sharp. dangerous.

your stomach dropped straight to hell. because suddenly—suddenly you knew.

oh my god.

it WAS him.

your soul briefly left your body. there was no other explanation for the horrifying full-body shutdown you experienced standing there in the middle of the hallway.

because park sunghoon was smiling at you. actually smiling. not the tiny smug almost-smirk he usually wore during arguments.

a real smile. sharp at the edges. dangerously entertained. and your phone was still glowing between you both with the notification from: notniceprince02

oh my god. OH my god.

you stared at him, sunghoon stared back. this fucker was playing with you this entire time and he had the audacity to look calm, composed and completely evil all at the same time.

your voice came out accusing immediately. "you're insane." sunghoon's smile widened slightly. which honestly should've been illegal because why did he suddenly look—no.

absolutely not.

"that's a strong reaction," he said mildly.

"you've been fighting with me online for like fourteen hours."

"thirteen, actually."

you blinked up at him, horrified.

sunghoon tilted his head slightly. "you stopped replying around three in the morning."

your jaw physically dropped. "YOU KEPT TRACK?"

"you type aggressively when you're tired."

you looked genuinely offended. "that is such a weird thing to notice."

"you notice weird things about me too."

silence. dangerous silence. because unfortunately—unfortunately he was right. and judging by the look on his face? he knew he was right too.

you recovered immediately or at least attempted to. "okay first of all," you started, pointing at him aggressively, "using a burner account to argue with me on reddit is psychotic behavior."

sunghoon crossed his arms loosely still way too relaxed. "you made an entire public post about me."

"i didn't SAY your name."

"you described me like a wanted criminal."

"because you're irritating."

"it was weirdly detailed."

your eye twitched. "you're unbelievable."

sunghoon leaned slightly closer, close enough that your stupid heart started acting weird again. "you wrote three paragraphs about my facial expressions."

heat crawled up your neck instantly. because in hindsight—mentioning the smirking might've been a mistake.

"that was for CONTEXT."

sunghoon hummed not buying it for a second. "right....right"

you hated how calm he sounded. like this entire situation entertained him more than anything else. which made sense, considering the man apparently spent his free time anonymously provoking you online.

actual freak behavior.

"and YOU," you shot back, "were defending yourself in the comments like a loser."

sunghoon's brows lifted. "i was defending myself because you compared me to a podcast for divorced men."

"because you talk like one."

"you literally accused me of wanting attention 'carnally.'" your face heated instantly, sunghoon looked way too pleased saying that out loud. "that was BEFORE i knew it was you."

"does that make it better?"

"a little."

his mouth twitched again. you wanted to throw him into traffic. respectfully.

sunghoon glanced down at your phone screen where the reddit thread was still open. hundreds of notifications flooded the post now. people were still replying, still arguing and still shipping you both for reasons you refused to acknowledge.

sunghoon read one of the comments over your shoulder, then laughed quietly. "someone said we have 'academic rivals to lovers tension.'"

you looked horrified, shooting him a quick glare before downvoting on the comment. "don't read those."

"why not?" he asked lightly. "they seem passionate about us."

"there is no 'us.'" you snapped back.

sunghoon's gaze flicked back to yours, steady—focused. "you sure?"

your stomach dropped. hard. something about the way he said it felt unfairly intentional. like he knew exactly what he was doing now. which—he probably did.

you crossed your arms tighter, defensive. "you're enjoying this way too much."

"you started it."

"you kept replying."

"so did you."

"because i don't lose arguments."

sunghoon stepped closer again, just slightly. enough that your back nearly brushed the wall behind you.

"is that what this is?" he asked softly.

you frowned. "what."

"you needing to win." his voice had gotten quieter somehow, lower and suddenly the hallway noise around you felt distant again.

students walked past constantly but it barely registered. because sunghoon was standing too close and looking at you like he'd figured something out.

you swallowed once, annoyed at yourself for even noticing. "obviously," you replied.

sunghoon watched you for another second. then, "i think you just like arguing with me."

you let out a disbelieving laugh immediately. "that is genuinely the dumbest thing you've ever said."

"is it?"

"yes."

"then why do you always look excited before you disagree with me?"

your mouth opened. closed. opened again. nothing came out. because that was—that was not the point. like fuck, you caught me i guess.

sunghoon noticed your silence instantly, of course he did. his expression shifted into something smugger and more dangerous. "there it is again."

"what."

"speechless."

you hated him, like actually hated him. especially because he looked so unfairly good right now standing there with messy dark hair and that stupid smug expression like he'd won something.

you narrowed your eyes. "you know what? maybe people only think you're smart because you say things confidently."

sunghoon leaned one shoulder casually against the wall beside you. completely cornering you now without actually touching you.

"maybe," he said calmly, "you only argue with me because i'm the only person who argues back."

your heartbeat betrayed you again. you stared at him, sunghoon stared back. then—your phone buzzed loudly again between you both.

another reddit notification, sunghoon glanced down before taking your phone into his own hands then read aloud: "'just kiss already and save us all the trouble.'"

you lunged for your phone instantly. "give me that." sunghoon lifted it out of reach easily and your eyes widened. "park sunghoon."

he looked down at you with blatant amusement. "that's the first time you've said my full name without sounding homicidal."

"i AM homicidal."

"mhm."

you reached for your phone again, sunghoon caught your wrist lightly before you could grab it. everything stopped. your breath. your thoughts. your functioning nervous system.

his fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist, warm and firm. and suddenly you became painfully aware of how close he actually was.

sunghoon looked down briefly at where he was holding you and then back at your face. his expression changed slightly, less teasing and more—dangerous.

your pulse went absolutely insane. then quietly—way too quietly—he said, "you know... you're a lot less mean when you're flustered."

your brain completely stopped functioning. like genuinely. because park sunghoon was still holding your wrist, still standing way too close, still looking at you with that horribly calm expression while your pulse was actively trying to kill you.

and the worst part? he knew. you could tell he knew. his thumb shifted slightly against your wrist and your stomach flipped so violently it made you angry.

sunghoon's eyes flicked briefly to your mouth again. then back up, slowly and deliberately.

"you know," he murmured, "the comments might be onto something."

your brows furrowed instantly. "what comments."

his mouth twitched. "'just kiss already and save us all the trouble.'"

you stared at him in disbelief. "absolutely not."

"why not?"

"because i'd rather die."

sunghoon hummed thoughtfully. "dramatic."

"you make me dramatic." that slipped out before you could stop it, the silence was thick.

sunghoon's expression shifted almost imperceptibly. something darker settling beneath the amusement. your face heated instantly. great. excellent. love that for you.

you tried pulling your wrist back but he didn't let go. not fully, he just loosened his grip slightly. enough to remind you he could let go if he wanted to, but wasn't.

"you know what i think?" he asked quietly.

"i don't care."

"i think you enjoy this."

you scoffed immediately. "arguing with you is psychologically damaging."

"yet you keep doing it."

"because someone needs to humble you."

sunghoon smiled slowly, that smile should've come with a warning label. "you've been saying that for two years, i don't think you're making much progress, __."

your stomach twisted, you hated how softly he said it. like he'd been thinking about it too, absolutely disgusting.

you crossed your arms tighter, or tried to. hard to look intimidating when he still had your wrist trapped loosely in his hand. "you're weirdly obsessed with me for someone who acts emotionally detached all the time."

sunghoon tilted his head slightly. "says the girl who wrote a public essay about me." at this point the both of you were repeating yourselves for the nth time, none of you progressing anywhere.

"because you're irritating."

"and handsome?"

you nearly choked. "WHEN did i say that?"

"you didn't have to."

you looked genuinely appalled, sunghoon laughed quietly under his breath. the sound went straight through you in the most irritating way imaginable.

you hated that too, everything about him irritated you. his stupid voice, his stupid face, his stupidly long fingers still wrapped around your wrist.

"you're insufferable."

"you like that word."

"because it applies to you constantly." you say sweetly, batting your eyelashes in the most dramatic way you could possibly pull off.

sunghoon leaned closer, close enough that your back finally brushed against the wall behind you.

you swallowed hard, annoyed. deeply annoyed.

"you know," he said softly, "for someone who claims to hate me, you stare at me a lot."

your jaw dropped. "you stare at ME."

"because you're loud."

"and you're annoying."

"yet here we are."

your heart was beating so hard you were convinced he could hear it. which was humiliating, especially because he looked entirely unaffected.

calm. steady. composed. which is what his heart monitor would read after you ran him over with your car.  you wanted to ruin that composure so badly. sunghoon's gaze dropped to your mouth again, this time slower and less subtle. your breathing hitched involuntarily and that smug bastard noticed immediately.

his eyes darkened slightly. "there it is," he murmured.

"what."

"that look."

"what look?"

sunghoon smiled faintly. "the one you get before you start losing an argument."

you pushed against his shoulder instantly, hard. or at least hard enough to make a point but sunghoon barely moved. which only irritated you more. "i never lose."

"sure."

"i'm serious."

"mhm."

you glared at him, sunghoon stared back. then quietly— way too calmly—he said, "maybe we should give people what they want."

your stomach dropped. "what."

his fingers tightened slightly around your wrist before he stepped closer again, completely boxing you in now. "the comments seem very invested in us."

"there is no 'us.'" you repeated for the nth time.

"you keep saying that."

"because it's true."

sunghoon looked at you for one long second, then his voice dropped lower, dangerously soft. "then how about we start with the kiss?"

your brain short-circuited so violently you physically stopped breathing. "excuse me?"

sunghoon's expression remained infuriatingly calm. but his eyes—his eyes looked anything but calm now. "you heard me."

heat exploded across your face instantly. "you are OUT of your mind."

"probably."

"i would never kiss you."

sunghoon leaned down slightly, close enough that his voice brushed against your skin. "you keep saying things your body language disagrees with."

your stomach flipped violently. you hated him, because he sounded so certain, so unfairly confident. you opened your mouth to argue again but footsteps echoed nearby and a group of students rounded the corner laughing loudly.

both of you glanced over instinctively, the moment broke slightly. just enough, except sunghoon didn't move away. instead, his gaze flicked briefly down the hall toward the nearby family washroom.

then back to you and your pulse spiked instantly. "sunghoon—"

before you could finish, he tugged lightly on your wrist. your breath caught as he pulled you forward down the hall.

"what are you DOING?"

sunghoon glanced back at you once, that same dangerous almost-smile pulling at his mouth.

"proving a point."

your stomach dropped straight to hell. your sneakers squeaked slightly against the floor as sunghoon pulled you down the hallway.

not fast enough to look suspicious, which somehow made it worse. his hand stayed wrapped around your wrist the entire time—warm, firm, steady—like he already knew you wouldn't actually pull away.

which was irritating, deeply irritating. "park sunghoon—"

"you say my full name a lot when you're nervous."

"i'm not nervous." he glanced back at you briefly, that smug look again.

"sure."

you swore out his entire bloodline at this moment as your heart was currently beating like you'd just sprinted across campus. sunghoon stopped outside the family washroom and pushed the door open casually before looking back at you expectantly.

your eyes widened immediately. "oh my god."

"what?"

"you're insane."

"you've said that already."

"because you keep proving it."

sunghoon's mouth twitched then he gently tugged your wrist again. you should've walked away, seriously. you should've told him to go to hell and left immediately.

instead—you followed him inside. which honestly felt like a personal failure.

the door clicked shut behind you.

the washroom was too bright and too small. and now sunghoon was standing directly in front of you with nowhere to escape to, hoodie sleeves pushed up his forearms and dark hair slightly falling into his eyes.

you became painfully aware of every inch of space between you both, which unfortunately (fortunately) wasn't much.

your pulse went insane. sunghoon leaned back lightly against the sink counter, still watching you with that same unreadable expression. except now there was something sharper underneath it, something heated.

you crossed your arms immediately, defensive. "if you murder me in here i'm haunting you."

sunghoon laughed quietly, the sound bounced softly off the tiled walls. "you think i'd need to drag you into a bathroom to kill you?"

"probably not. you'd do it in a psychologically manipulative way."

"interesting that you've thought about it."

"i think about punching you constantly."

sunghoon hummed. "violent."

"you bring it out in me."

his gaze held yours for a second too long. then, "i know."

your stomach flipped, you hated how low his voice sounded in here. hated how every tiny expression felt amplified now that you were alone. you needed to regain control of this conversation immediately.

"so what exactly was your master plan here?" you asked. "corner me in a public washroom and continue being annoying?"

sunghoon tilted his head slightly. "you came willingly."

well, he got you there. "against my better judgment."

"yet still willingly."

you rolled your eyes aggressively. "you're obsessed with having the last word."

"that's rich coming from you."

"i'm right most of the time." sunghoon smiled slowly, there it was again. that stupid smile that made you irrationally aware of how attractive he was.

you hated that too, everything about him was annoying. the way he stood, the way he talked. the way his hands and forearms looked resting against the sink behind him—okay.

you needed to stop thinking immediately. sunghoon noticed your brief lapse in concentration. his eyes narrowed slightly, amused.

"what happened?" he asked softly. "lost your train of thought?"

"i'm deciding how much jail time i'd get for assault." good cover up!

"probably less if you looked this cute during the mugshot."

your brain completely blue-screened, you stared at him. sunghoon stared back. completely calm after saying the most insane thing imaginable.

"you—" nothing, your thoughts evaporated.

sunghoon pushed off the sink slowly, one step closer. then another. your back instinctively hit the door behind you.

oh my god.

"what?" he asked quietly. you swallowed hard, annoyed at yourself.

"you can't just say things like that."

"why not?"

"because it's weird."

"you're flustered again."

"I AM NOT FLUSTERED."

sunghoon looked down at you for a long second then his gaze flicked to your mouth again. slowly and deliberately. your stomach twisted so hard it physically hurt and you wondered what would happen if you just threw up your guts onto him. how pretty would he look with a bacon egg and cheese splashed onto him?

"you know," he murmured, "for someone who claims to hate me, you let me get very close to you."

"you cornered me." you snap.

"you could move." you opened your mouth then closed it. because—well technically. he wasn't wrong. you absolutely could move, but instead you stayed exactly where you were.

sunghoon noticed immediately, that smug look returned. "there it is."

"stop saying that."

"then stop proving me right."

you glared at him, he stared back. neither of you moved. the tension in the room felt ridiculous now. thick enough to choke on.

and the worst part? sunghoon still looked calm. slightly amused, even. like he was waiting for you to figure something out.

your phone buzzed loudly in your pocket. both of you glanced downward instinctively. another reddit notification, causing sunghoon laughed softly. "they're probably asking if we kissed yet."

your face heated instantly. "they're delusional."

"mhm."

"stop doing that."

"doing what?"

"looking at me like that."

his brows lifted slightly. "like what?"

you gestured vaguely, frustrated. "like you know something i don't."

sunghoon stepped closer again, barely any space left between you now. his voice dropped lower, quieter. "maybe i do."

your breath caught, his hand lifted slowly toward your face. you froze up, completely. sunghoon's fingers brushed lightly against your jaw, gentle and careful. somehow that made it worse. your heartbeat was so loud you were convinced the entire campus could hear it.

sunghoon looked at you for one long second. then quietly—almost teasing—he murmured "still think you'd rather die than kiss me?"

your brain was screaming because park sunghoon's hand was on your jaw right now. his thumb resting lightly against your skin while he looked at you like this —calm on the surface, but with something much more dangerous underneath.

and the worst part? you still hadn't moved away.

your back pressed against the door behind you as your pulse absolutely lost its mind. sunghoon waited patiently for an answer.

that smug bastard. "well?" he murmured softly. you swallowed hard. "you're very confident for someone who uses reddit burner accounts."

the corner of his mouth lifted immediately. there you were, finally talking again.

"deflecting already?"

"i'm not deflecting."

"mhm."

you hated that sound. hated how he kept looking at you like he could see directly through every thought in your head. because right now those thoughts were actively betraying you.

you were suddenly hyperaware of everything, the warmth of his hand, the faint scent of his cologne, the way his hoodie sleeves stretched around his forearms when he shifted closer.

deeply irritating. you narrowed your eyes, trying desperately to regain control of the situation.

"you know what your problem is?"

sunghoon hummed softly, looking down at you with an unreadable glint in his dark eyes. "you think everyone secretly likes you."

"not everyone."

his thumb brushed your jaw slightly as he spoke and your stomach flipped violently.

"just you."

your breath caught embarrassingly fast. sunghoon noticed instantly and his eyes darkened slightly. suddenly the teasing atmosphere shifted into something heavier, quieter.

you hated how good he was at this. "you're unbelievable," you muttered.

"you've said that too."

"because you keep acting insane."

sunghoon leaned down slightly, close enough now that his voice felt warm against your skin.

"you haven't told me to stop."

your brain short-circuited. because—because technically—you hadn't. you opened your mouth immediately. "stop."

sunghoon smiled faintly, but didn't move. "that sounded forced."

you glared at him. "you're annoying."

"and yet you're still here." he kept doing that. kept pointing out things you didn't want to acknowledge. like the fact that you could absolutely shove him away right now if you wanted to.

except you didn't, which felt like a massive personal failure. your phone buzzed again in your pocket making sunghoon laughed quietly under his breath. "persistent audience."

"they need hobbies."

"says the girl who argued with me online for thirteen hours."

"because you were WRONG."

"about what exactly?"

"everything."

sunghoon's brows lifted slightly. "including the part where you're obviously attracted to me?"

your jaw dropped. silence. violent silence. your entire nervous system shut down. "you—"

nothing came out and sunghoon looked way too pleased with himself. "there it is again."

"if you say 'speechless' one more time i'm calling campus security."

he laughed again, soft and genuine. and it hit you in the chest in the most irritating way imaginable because you'd never heard him laugh like this before.

not during class, not during arguments. this was different, warmer, more relaxed. like he was actually enjoying himself.

you stared at him suspiciously, sunghoon noticed immediately. "what?"

"why are you smiling like that."

"like what?"

"like you're having fun." his gaze held yours for a second, then, "i am."

your stomach twisted again, it felt as if your body was actively betraying you . you looked away first this time, suddenly very interested in the tiled floor beneath you. sunghoon's hand shifted slightly, fingers brushing gently beneath your chin.

guiding your attention back to him and your heart nearly exploded.

"don't do that," you muttered weakly.

"do what?"

"that."

"very descriptive."

you glared at him, or attempted to. hard to look intimidating when your face was hot and your heartbeat sounded like a construction site.

sunghoon studied your expression quietly for a moment. then smiled slightly, smaller this time and less teasing. "you know what i think?"

"i think you should stop thinking entirely." you spat out weakly.

"i think," he continued calmly ignoring what you just said, "you've spent two years picking fights with me because it's the only time you stop pretending not to care what i think."

your stomach dropped straight to hell you stared at him only to see him look at you with a look you were afraid to identify.  and somehow that was worse than the teasing, because he sounded genuine now.

which felt unfair.

you recovered immediately through anger, your favorite defense mechanism.

"oh my god you are SO full of yourself."

"am i wrong?"

"yes."

"then why are you blushing?"

you slapped your hands over your face instantly, and sunghoon actually laughed. fully this time and the sound was so unexpectedly attractive it made you want to walk directly into traffic.

"stop laughing."

"you're cute when you're angry."

"you're making me angrier."

"i know." his voice softened slightly on the last two words, your hands slowly lowered from your face.

sunghoon was still standing impossibly close. still looking at you like he wanted to see what you'd do next. your heartbeat wouldn't calm down and neither would your thoughts.

and then his gaze dropped to your mouth again, slowly—intentionally.

your breath caught again and sunghoon noticed. again. his hand slid lightly from your jaw to the side of your neck.

you completely stopped functioning. "sunghoon," you whispered, first name only this time. this was probably the first time in the two years you knew him that you had said his name with such softness.

something shifted in his expression immediately and his eyes darkened. his thumb pressed lightly against your neck.

"yeah?" he murmured.

oh.

oh this was bad.

his thumb pressed gently against the pulse hammering in your throat. that single point of contact felt like a live wire.

"yeah?" he murmured again, his voice dropping into a register you'd never heard, low and rough and utterly dismantling. you had no witty retort, no clever insult. your brain was static, every neuron firing toward the heat of his hand, the dark focus in his eyes.

he saw the surrender you hadn't even voiced. his other hand came up, fingers threading through your hair to cradle the back of your head, and then he was closing the last inch of space.

his mouth was on yours.

it wasn't tentative. it wasn't a question. it was a firm, smooth claim that stole the breath from your lungs and the strength from your knees. his lips moved against yours with a confident pressure that was instantly dizzying. he tasted like mint and something darker, something uniquely him.

a soft, surprised sound escaped you, swallowed immediately by his kiss. he angled your head, deepening it, his tongue sweeping past your lips to tangle with yours.

it was an argument you couldn't win, a debate settled with a devastating, sensual finality. your hands, which had been balled into fists at your sides, came up to clutch at the fabric of his hoodie.

he broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against your swollen lips, "finally." then he was moving again, his body pressing you firmly back against the cool door. you felt your heart pounding in your chest like you had ran a mile, his one word stealing the strength from your legs.

in one fluid, shockingly strong motion, he captured both your wrists in one of his large hands and pinned them above your head. you gasped, a thrill of helplessness shooting straight to your core. his other hand returned to your throat, not squeezing, just holding, a dominant, possessive weight.

"always so loud," he breathed, his lips trailing down your jaw. "so much to say." you could feel the hard, undeniable ridge of his dick pressing against your stomach through both your clothes. the evidence of his desire was a shockwave that made you whimper. he smirked against your skin. "what's wrong? no clever comeback?"

he leaned in again, but instead of kissing you, he hovered. his gaze locked on yours, dark and intense. then he gathered a bit of saliva on his tongue and let it fall, slow and deliberate, past his own lips and onto yours.

the warm, wet intimacy of it made your eyes flutter closed for a second. "open," he commanded softly. dazed, you did. he sealed his mouth over yours again, sharing the wetness, the kiss turning filthy and deep.

you drank him in, your earlier defiance melting into a desperate, aching need. you could feel your underwear stick to you uncomfortably, shifting slighting only to have sunghoon's large body pin you against the door harder. his bulge pushing into your stomach firmer, you could feel him grind against you.

he pulled back, his breathing slightly ragged, and began to mouth down the column of your throat. his teeth scraped lightly, then bit down, not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to make you cry out and arch against him. he soothed the spot with his tongue before sucking hard, leaving a brand you knew would bloom purple.

he admired his work, then the dizzy, wrecked look on your face. "look at you. all that fire, reduced to this." his free hand slid down, grabbing the hem of your shirt. "all those essays about my emotional incompetence," he said, tugging the fabric up. you shivered as cool air hit your stomach.

"all that time you spent thinking about me." the shirt went over your head, discarded somewhere on the floor. his eyes raked over your bra. "and for what? to end up here."

"you're—you're still insufferable," you managed to pant, even as you pressed your chest toward him—urging him to take it off.

"i know," he said, his fingers deftly finding the clasp of your bra. it came undone. "and you're still obsessed." the bra straps slid down your arms, still trapped in his grasp. he let go of your wrists just long enough to pull the garment away and toss it aside. immediately, his hand returned, clamping back down.

you used your momentary freedom to grab the bottom of his hoodie, pushing it up. he helped, releasing you to yank it and his shirt off in one impatient move.

then he was back on you, skin to searing skin. he was a biter, just as you'd imagined. his mouth latched onto the swell of your breast, teeth grazing your nipple before he sucked it deep.

you cried out, your head thumping back against the door. "if you can do it," you gasped, twisting to reach his shoulder with your mouth. you sank your teeth into the hard muscle there, a retaliatory claim. "then i can too."

"fuck." he groaned, the sound vibrating through your entire body. you think you just gushed and ruined your panties.

a competition of marks began. he left a trail of bruises and blooming red patches down your chest, over your ribs. you reciprocated on his neck, his collarbone, his pectoral, each bite earning a sharper gasp or a low, approving growl from him.

the pain was a bright, sharp pleasure, a physical manifestation of all your tangled, furious energy. suddenly, he was pushing you down. a firm hand on your shoulder guided you to your knees on the cold tile.

you looked up at him, dazed. he loomed over you, his expression one of dark, predatory amusement. he undid his belt buckle, the click obscenely loud in the small room.

"i wonder," he mused, his voice thick, "how much shit you can talk with your mouth full of me."

he popped the button of his jeans, lowered the zipper. the outline of his cock straining against his boxers made your mouth water. "hands behind your back," he ordered.

you hesitated, glaring up at him. with a frustrated noise, you reached for his waistband. he caught your wrist instantly. "ah-ah." his other hand came up and delivered a firm, almost casual pat against your cheek. it wasn't a hard slap, but it was a stinging, dominant correction that made your eyes widen and your clit throb. "i said, no hands."

swallowing your pride, you leaned forward. you nuzzled against the fabric of his boxers, feeling the hard heat beneath. using your teeth, you caught the elastic waistband and tugged it down, revealing him.

he was thick and fully hard, the tip already glistening. you licked a slow stripe from base to tip, looking up at him through your lashes. his jaw tightened as you took him into your mouth, slowly, relishing the salty, clean taste of him, the way his hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk.

he let you set the pace for a moment, his hands fisting in your hair. "that's it," he breathed, his composure fraying. "all that attitude... fucking gone." you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, until he hit the back of your throat.

you relaxed, letting him slide further, tears pricking your eyes. the rhythm became faster, harder, driven by the soft, choked sounds he was making above you. his grip in your hair tightened, guiding you.

you could feel his hips shudder and his pace falter as he peered down to see his cock disappear in your mouth. he felt his chest swell just at the sight of you, eyes watering and face red.

"gonna cum," he warned, his voice ragged. you didn't pull away. with a sharp, guttural groan, he spilled hot and bitter over your tongue and across your chest, painting stripes over your skin.

he took a second to admire the mess he had made of you, your skin flushed a pretty pink with his cum coating you like icing on a cake.

he pulled you to your feet, his own legs seemingly unsteady. he pushed your pants and panties down in one rough motion, his fingers immediately finding your slick heat.

he pushed your soaked underwear aside, sliding two fingers through your folds. "so wet," he laughed, a dark, triumphant sound. he brought his glistening fingers to your lips. "and for me. after all that."

he turned you around, bending you over the sink. your reflection was a shock—flushed face, bruised lips, hair a mess, his marks covering your skin. he positioned himself behind you, one hand wrapping around your throat again, pulling you back against his chest. the other hand rubbed tight, demanding circles over your clit.

"look," he whispered harshly in your ear, nodding at the mirror. "look at how silly you look. falling apart on my fingers when just hours ago you were calling me a 'rejected sherlock holmes adaptation' on the internet." the overstimulation was maddening. pleasure coiled tight in your belly.

"the comments... were idiots," you panted, even as you pushed back against his fingers trying to get him to slip them inside your needy weeping hole.

he chuckled, the sound vibrating against your back. "they saw right through you." he pushed a finger inside you, then another, curling them. you gasped, your knees buckling. "admit it. you wanted this every time you picked a fight."

"i wanted to win," you moaned, the words torn from you. he hooked his fingers in you, rubbing your gummy walls while his thumb continued to rub circles against your needy clit.

"you are winning," he breathed, nipping your earlobe. "look at you. you won my full, undivided attention." he removed his fingers, and you felt the blunt, hot pressure of his cock at your entrance.

he pushed in, slowly, inch by devastating inch, filling you completely. the stretch was divine. he held you there, both of you panting, watching in the mirror. he almost came at the sight of your fucked out face, his hands gripping your waist with pressure that would surely bruise.

he began to move, a slow, filthy grind that had you seeing stars. his hand on your throat kept you upright, the other hand sliding around to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. "beg for it," he murmured, his eyes locked on yours in the reflection. "beg me to let you cum."

you didn't answer, trying to avoid his gaze in the mirror only for a particularly rough thrust and his blunt nails digging into your face to swiftly put you back in your place.

"no," you gritted out, even as your body shook. he spanked you once, hard, on the ass cheek. the sharp sting made you cry out and clench around him. "beg."

"sunghoon—"

another spank. his fingers on your clit became relentless. you were so close, teetering on the edge, but he held you there, his thrusts measured and deep.

"you're so stubborn. just like online. all that typing." he punctuated each word with a thrust. "just. give. in." the pleasure was a tidal wave, held back by his will alone. you were so overstimulated, so desperate, your pride the only thing left. he leaned forward, his mouth at your ear. "come on, sweetheart. let go. tell me you need it."

as much as it killed you to beg, it also killed you to not cum all over his stupidly thick cock. you could feel the coil in your stomach tighten up as you try to push yourself back to meet his strong and unrelenting thrusts.

sunghoon smirks when he notices your desperation, slowing down on purpose. "c'mon, sweetheart. you don't wanna cum f'me?"

the pet name, the raw need in his own voice, broke you. "please," you sobbed, the word barely audible. "please, sunghoon, let me cum."

"good girl," he purred, and his rhythm became punishing and his fingers began to rub punishingly against your swollen clit. "now."

the orgasm ripped through you, blinding and violent. you screamed, your body convulsing around him as he fucked you through it, his own groans joining yours.

you felt his warm cum flood your cunt as you twitched with the aftershocks of your high.  he watched you fall apart in the mirror, his expression one of fierce, possessive satisfaction.

as your spasms began to subside, he slowed, still buried deep inside you. he was breathing heavily against your neck.

he planted soft kisses on your shoulder blade and neck, his dick still in you—twitching. your body trembled slightly, refusing to look into the mirror because then you would see the aftermath of what sunghoon had done to you.

the silence afterward felt strange.

not awkward. not exactly.

just... different.

like something between you had shifted permanently and neither of you quite knew how to deal with it yet.

the fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead while rain tapped faintly against the tiny washroom window. your heart still hadn't calmed down properly, which was deeply irritating considering park sunghoon looked entirely too composed standing in front of you when you had finally found your guts to look.

his dark hair was messy now, lips pink from kissing you. his body was covered in a thin layer of sweat that gave his pale skin a beautiful glow.

which—you immediately looked away.

absolutely not.

sunghoon noticed, of course. he noticed everything.

"you're quiet," he said softly.

you scoffed weakly, body twitching when you feel sunghoon grow hard in you. "this is emotionally traumatic for me."

the corner of his mouth lifted, that stupid almost-smile again. except now it looked softer somehow and less smug.

you attempted to move only for his body to keep you caged between the sink and him. you looked down for a moment to see his cum that had escaped from you dripping down your thigh, a shaky breath leaving your bruised lips.

"don't look at me like that."

"like what?"

"like you just won something, you didn't win shit."

sunghoon leaned back lightly against the door of the washroom eyes still fixed on you. "maybe i did."

your stomach flipped and you frowned immediately, just because you two fucked doesn't mean that you would admit defeat to sunghoon and his annoying antics. "you're so annoying."

"you keep saying that."

"because you keep being annoying."

sunghoon laughed quietly under his breath, shaking his head slightly. the sound hit you straight in the chest in the most irritating way imaginable.

silence settled again for a moment, except this time it didn't feel sharp or tense like your usual arguments.

it felt warm, which was arguably more terrifying.

your eyes narrowed suddenly. "sunoo is never letting me live this down."

sunghoon's smile widened immediately. "he already thought you liked me."

"he's delusional."

"mhm."

you pointed at him instantly. "stop doing that."

"doing what?" he snickers as he finally pulls out, a small whimper escaping your parted lips and sunghoon swears he could cum from that little sound alone.

"that fake calm thing."

"it's not fake."

"that somehow makes it worse."

sunghoon pushed himself off of you before turning you around so your back faced the mirror and stepped closer again.

not cornering you this time, just close enough that your pulse started acting stupid all over again. his gaze dropped briefly to your mouth, then your thighs that were trembling before returning to your eyes.

"so what now?" he asked quietly, his hands coming out to grab on to your hips.

you folded your arms tighter, defensive reflex.

"what do you mean."

"are you still gonna argue with me in class?"

you stared at him like that was the dumbest question ever asked.

"obviously."

sunghoon laughed softly. "figured."

"just because i fucked you doesn't mean your opinions suddenly got better."

"ouch."

"you still sound pretentious."

"and you still interrupt me constantly."

"because you're wrong constantly."

sunghoon shook his head, smiling now. his hand reaching down to push the cum that was trailing down your inner thigh back up—rubbing your swollen cunt with his remnants.

you squeaked out at the feeling, grabbing a hold of his wrist as he watched you with a lazy smile. you hated how much better he looked when he smiled properly.

your phone buzzed loudly against the counter beside you.

then again and again.

you looked down at the endless reddit notifications flooding your screen and groaned dramatically.

"i genuinely hate everyone on that app." sunghoon glanced at your phone before looking back at you, his fingers leaving your cunt to rest back on your hips again much to your dismay.

amusement flickered across his face immediately. "they were pretty accurate though."

"don't start."

"'enemies to lovers' seemed popular."

"they're unemployed."

sunghoon laughed again and you stared at him suspiciously for a second, then narrowed your eyes. "you know this is all your fault."

"interesting argument."

"you replied first."

"you made the post first."

"because you're irritating."

"and yet here you are."

your face heated instantly, sunghoon noticed. his expression softened slightly after that, teasing fading into something quieter.

more careful, he looked at you for a long second close enough that your heartbeat immediately betrayed you again. then, with that same smug little smile returning to his mouth, he tilted his head slightly and murmured, "so."

you narrowed your eyes immediately. "so what."

sunghoon's gaze held yours, steady, amused and dangerously warm.

"do you still think i'm the asshole?"

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

[deerhuntings-deactivated2026060]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝒫𝑒𝑟𝑣 𝒴𝑢𝑚𝑎'𝑠 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑒 .ᐟ 𓏲🪽˚. ˖

cw: groping , panties sniffing and fucking , breast play , thigh grinding , cunnilingus , cum eating , overstim , dacryphilia , p in v , unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it!) , breeding .

Perv!Yuma loves you so much! He’s hooked on you and he makes sure you’re aware of the fact. He keeps a folder of all the pretty pictures you send him to jerk off, cumming all over his screen like a loser. He’s such a shameless perv too! Loves to send you porn links with the filthiest shit only to follow it up with an “ haha oops :p my hand slipped” and you can hear him through the thin walls, his soft whines and moans with the porn playing in the background, almost like he wanted you to hear. 

Whenever it was time to do your laundry, Yuma would always offer to help under the guise that he wanted to wash some of his clothes as well. Unbeknownst to you, he was stealing your panties pair by pair and keeping them. He started by only sniffing them when he jerked off then it got too unbearable for him. He started wrapping them around his cock and cumming all over them then washing them and putting them back like nothing happened.

Yuma loves it when you wore cute pajamas around the house, frilly with bows or cute prints with the softest fabric that felt nice whenever he touched you. He especially loves it when you wear tops that accentuate your tits, cupping them with his hands and rolling your clothed nipples which makes you squirm and rub your thighs together.

He was obsessed with having you on his lap, making you ride his thighs desperately whenever he worked you up and teased you, his mouth sucking harshly around one of your tits, teeth grazing your nipples. His hands smacking your ass, groaning about how cute you look ruined for him.

Burying his head between your thighs whenever you tried to focus on something, lapping at your clothed cunt, pushing the fabric to the side and going down on you. The obscene sounds of his slurping and lip smacking distracting you from whatever you were working on and shifting your focus on him. Yuma always made sure to eat everything you gave him, even when you were two orgasms through, gripping his hair and trying to push him away, he’d whine and tell you that “you can give me one more, can’t you baby?” and you always gave in to his whims.

He loves to get handsy with you, hugging you from behind and rubbing his crotch on your back like a kitty in heat, whining in your ear about how “It hurts, baby” slowly rutting against your back and ass, his breaths puffing against your neck. “Ha- please, baby let me put it in” and when you do let him fuck you, he makes sure to worship your body.

Yuma loves pressing his cock deep into you, the way you squeeze tightly around him crying, and begging for more. He tilts your head to the side and licks your tears all while bullying you with his harsh thrusts. His lips are all over you placing kisses on your cheeks, lips, neck, shoulders before sinking his teeth into your soft flesh, inviting and sweet. 

He marks you like you’re his territory, your neck littered with bite marks and hickeys that just won’t go away! Yuma puts you in a mean mating press and fucks harshly into your sopping cunt, your arousal and his cum mixing together as he fucked it all back into you. The soft ‘plap plap plap!’ echoing into the room as he emptied another load into you making sure to keep it plugged with his cock, collapsing on you and placing soft kisses all over your back and neck, and you swear you hear him purring in content.

[smidare-archive]

just a little thought but like wanting to hold yuma’s hand while he fucks us into the mattress nd he just mocks and teases us when all we want is some comfort :(

the thought of him mocking u w that nasally voice mmm yummy.. hope u enjoy this hehe

【 18+ 】 tw ──── mean dom!yuma x f!reader . . mating press, degradation, rough sex, teasing. don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.

yuma had you folded nearly in half, knees pressed to your chest, hips snapping forward so deep you swore you could feel him in your throat. sweat slicked his skin, blonde hair sticking to his forehead as he grinned down at you—sharp, mean, and far too pleased with himself.

your fingers twitched where they lay beside your head, desperate for something to hold onto. for him.

“y-yuma…hand—” you gasped, voice breaking on the next punishing thrust that punched the air right out of your lungs.

he laughed, low and mocking, never slowing down. one of his hands stayed braced beside your head, the other gripping your thigh hard enough to bruise. “aww, my baby wants to hold hands?” 

he leaned in closer, lips brushing your ear as he drove into you again, grinding deep. “that’s cute. yer getting fucked stupid into the mattress and all ya can think about is holding hands?”

you whimpered, fingers gripping at the sheets instead. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming stretch and the way he kept hitting that spot that made your toes curl.

he clicked his tongue, fangs poking out—clearly enjoying the way you clenched around him. “look at you. so needy. you really think i’m gonna go soft just ‘cause yer whimpering for my hand?” another hard thrust made you cry out. “nah. yer gonna take it like this—spread open, crying, and empty-handed. maybe if you beg nicely i’ll let ya hold it after i fill you up.”

you shook your head, desperate, tears finally falling and soaking yout flushed cheeks. “mmph—please…just—ah—hold my hand…”

he rolled his eyes, smirk widening then finally laced he his fingers with yours, pinning your hand to the bed above your head. but instead of comfort, he used the leverage to fuck you even harder, hips snapping mercilessly.

“there. happy now?” he taunted, voice dripping with fake sweetness. “hold on tight, baby. i’m nowhere near done breaking ya.”

[bunheee]

MY PRETTY MARUZ OHMY GOSH AAUHHAHHH (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥)

[deerhuntings-deactivated2026060]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝓜𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑢𝑝 ♡ 𝒩𝑒𝑘𝑜𝑧 .ᐟ

It wasn't easy experiencing your first heartbreak, and to make you feel better, your friends drag you to a club to forget about it, only to meet two strangers who pull you into a hazy night that changes your world. (wc: 2,8k)

cw: afab , mentions of drinking , smoking weed , shotgun kisses, threesome w nekoz , semi-public sex , unprotected sex (don't do it!) , oral (m receiving) , p in v , slightly mean nekoz , praise kink , cum eating , slight dacryphilia .

Nothing good comes after midnight. Those words were repeated to you by your mother, and you listened always.

Not today, not when your friends are practically begging to take you out.

You were the textbook example of a good girl: top grades, always home before curfew, didn't drink or smoke, and had a good boyfriend your parents adored.

The last part, not so much anymore, he left you and your relationship of three years for some cowardly reason of not being good enough for you.

He was your first everything, you had plans of marriage and your life ahead of you, only for it to be burned down and tossed away mindlessly, so you were rightfully upset.

It has been a while now, so your friends finally convinced you to stop moping around and let loose a little, which is how you found yourself standing in front of the mirror wearing a leather mini dress while one of your friends fixed your makeup.

"Are the thigh garters necessary?" you grumbled, tugging them up and smacking your lips together once the lipstick was applied. "Yes, absolutely!" your friend protested.

"You look sexy, mama," she purred, your crimson lips coming together to form a pout. "I feel weird." You paused before adding.

"Also, this dress is so short I feel like my ass is hanging." A friend snickered, rolling her eyes and grabbing your arm. "That's the point, silly. You need to forget him and let go tonight, have some fun!"

Your pounding heart rattling against your chest, swallowing the lump forming in your throat, letting your friends shove you into the cab.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The bass hits you as the door opens, low and heavy as it blends in with your heartbeat. Everything around you changed. You were an outsider in this world, and it showed.

Light spills over your skin, a mix of neons and blues, flashing alongside the music. The air feels thick and warm, suffocating like a vixen's grip. Your eyes fell on the bodies moving together on the dance floor, people grinding against each other, so carefree.

The music wraps around you, drowning out every dwelling thought you have. It was a lot to take in, but the promise of forgetting lured you in like a siren's song.

Your friends are already on you, you protest weakly out of habit.

"C'mon, baby girl, let's go have some fun," one of them said with her hands thrown on your shoulder as she giggled in your ear while the other pulled you by the wrist.

Well, no turning back now. You've entered the wolf's den, and there's no escape.

Your friends were on you the entire time, one pressing a drink in your hand, the cold seeping into your skin. A few sips in, and you're giggling, leaning against your friend before she tugs you to get up, moving to the dance floor, and you let her.

It was awkward at first; you were not used to dancing and didn't know what to do with your limbs or how to move, but she started guiding you, and the knot in your chest loosened.

Then you felt a shift, like someone’s watching.

Your eyes trailed to the edge of the dance floor, where they landed on two men leaning against the wall, their eyes fixated on you.

They're not exactly being subtle with their stares, one of them smirking when you held eye contact with him. He is gorgeous, all sharp features, plump lips, and fluffy pink hair falling over his eyes. The other man was just as striking, distinctive, and sharp, with the only difference being his black hair.

You feel your friend pull you in deeper into the crowd, laughing and dancing while everything around you starts to blur.

Then you feel it again, and when you turn your head, they're getting closer, cutting through the crowd and bodies like predators approaching their prey.

The pink-haired one reaches you first, stepping into your space with overwhelming presence, "You look out of place." A smug expression adorns his face, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

"That bad?" A nervous laugh, eyes darting away.

"Not really", he replied, shamelessly checking you out. "It's amusing, tumbling like a baby deer."

The black-haired man steps in, making his presence known. "Or maybe you're not having a good night?" he husked.

You gulped at his question. He hit it bullseye.

"What makes you say that?" You tilted your head, trying to appear unaffected. "It shows."

He leans closer, "You look out of it."

The pink-haired's hand rested on the small of your back, the faint smell of smoke and cologne engulfing you when he leaned closer. "Let's fix that, shall we?"

"Yeah," You murmured without another thought in your head, your friends long forgotten.

They don't give you the time to react, pulling you with them into the crowd. The space between you lessens, with pink hair in front of you, and black hair behind you.

Bodies squeezed together as the music picked up, black hair's hands on your hips guiding you steadily into him.

Your breath catches once you feel his boner grinding into your barely covered ass, head thrown back, and teeth digging into the soft flesh of your lips to hold off moans from slipping.

This doesn't go unnoticed by pink hair.

His hands move to rest on your hips, pulling you into him, and there’s an ease between them, a kind of tension that builds slowly before erupting.

Then, just as quickly as it started, it ends.

"Come with us," one of them said into the skin of your neck, peppering it with chaste kisses. "It's too loud in here, let's go somewhere quiet," the other added, his grip on your waist tightened.

"W-wait, I don't even know your names."

There’s a beat. Two. They finally answered.

"Nicholas," the pink-haired man said. "Yuma," said the other.

You nodded, "Y/n."

And just like that, you followed them away from the crowd and down a quiet hallway.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The vip room was dimly lit, and the surrounding noises were muffled. It was lined with plush-looking seats, a table littered with half-drunk glasses and other items you really couldn't care about.

You stood there in a haze. "Better?" Yuma's voice pulled you out of your musing, looking at you in amusement. "Yes," your voice just above a whisper.

They move around the room. Nicholas plopped on the plush seat, leaning back to look at you while Yuma hovered by your side.

There was a small pause, the air around you growing more intimate.

Yuma snakes his arm around your waist, gently pushing you into the room. "Stop hovering," he whispered against your ear, a shiver running down your spine.

"C'mere," Nicholas pats the space next to him, and you sit down, fitting between the two men snugly. "Relax," he murmurs.

Then Yuma reaches into his pocket, pulling out a neatly rolled joint, tapping it lightly against the table.

“So,” he says, glancing at you, “how about a smoke?”

The inner voice in your head was yelling at you, reprimanding you for how crazy you're being, that this isn't right, that your ancestors are rolling their graves. Still, you really couldn't get yourself to pay attention to the guilt when their presence overwhelms you in the best way possible.

You needed this tonight.

"I never really..." you started, "We can tell, baby." Nicholas interrupted with a smirk.

He leaned closer, his gaze shifting between you and Yuma. " Let's teach you, yeah?"

The air grew heavy, dense with tension and the intense scent of smoke.

And so, Yuma lights it and takes a slow drag. The faint scent fills the air, mixing with the strong smell of alcohol and their dizzying colognes. He moves to cup your cheek, and you melt into his touch.

"Open up, baby," Nicholas purred, and you parted your lips in response.

Yuma leaned down to press his lips to yours, exhaling the smoke into your mouth while Nicholas was in your ear guiding you to swallow. 

The smoke passed between you; it was unfamiliar, but you welcomed the hazy feeling it brought. 

Your hand lifts, catching lightly on his shirt as the moment stretches just a second longer than you expect.

Then he pulls back.

You blink, the taste of the smoke still lingering as you process what just happened.

“... oh,” you breathed, a little dazed.

Nicholas’ hand finds your wrist, gently pulling you towards him. You let yourself follow, allowing him to draw you closer until the space between you disappears.

He moves you, naturally, until you end up on his lap. For a heartbeat, it felt too bold and unlike you, like you shouldn’t give in that easily, but his hands remain steady at your waist, making it hard to refuse.

“Much better,” he murmurs. 

Yuma shifts closer, leaning in just enough that you’re aware of him on your side, easing any sense of intimidation you might feel. 

The joint is now in Nicholas’ hand, he takes a slow drag, then places the blunt to your lips. A silent encouragement for you to try it yourself.

He’s closer now, closer than before, his eyes steady on yours. You inhaled, the burn feels oddly soothing, faint tears adorning your eyes.

“Good?” he asks, voice low. “Yeah…”

Nicholas leans in, kissing you deeply like he’s about to consume you, your hands moving to grip his shirt tightly, and he smiles into the kiss.

He breaks it off to take another drag, then goes back in for another kiss, blowing the smoke into your awaiting lips.

The attention shifted towards Yuma when he moved to take the joint from Nicholas, finishing it off. He stood behind you, his chest pressed against your back, his hand cupping your chin and tilting your head back.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Yuma murmured, “makes me want to ruin you,” and you whined in response. 

He leaned down to kiss you messily, your teeth clashing together, and Nicholas took this chance to pepper kisses all over your neck. “You sure you haven’t done this before, baby?” he said, words melting into your skin.

His hands slid up your thighs, hiking up your dress until it stopped at the garter. He toyed with it, tugging it and letting it snap back into your skin harshly, making you whimper into Yuma’s lips.

You shifted in his lap, the arousal tingling between your legs, and the haze of smoking was making you unable to think straight. Yuma broke the kiss with a smirk, a string of saliva connecting you to him.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, head still tipped back as you took in Yuma’s appearance, his lips reddened and spit slicked. “Still with us, pretty girl?” 

It was hard to focus when those two men were all over you, consuming your thoughts and invading your space in the best way possible. “I-I need…” Nicholas gripped your chin, tilting your head right up to face him. “What do you need, baby?” 

Your entire body was buzzing, the weed and the arousal making you feel floaty and the only thing keeping you grounded was their bodies against yours.

Yuma leaned down to kiss at your exposed shoulder, grazing his teeth against the warm skin and your brain short-circuts. 

You didn’t know if it was the smoke or just sheer nerves but when Nicholas’ other hand started moving up your thighs and moving dangerously close to your clothed cunt, and Yuma’s hands roamed all over your chest and abdomen, you felt like exploding. “Fuck me,” you gasped, melting into Yuma’s chest, “fuck please I need it,”

They didn’t need to be told twice. 

Nicholas’ hand moved until they hovered over your panties, hooking his fingers on the fabric and removing it in one swift motion while Yuma lowered one dress strap with his teeth and the other with his hand effectively making you flash them. 

They groaned at the sight of your perky tits, “Such a pretty thing, aren’t you baby?” Yuma’s hands coming up to grope your tits and Nicholas' fingers rubbing your exposed cunt, eliciting soft whines and whimpers as you throw your head back in pure pleasure. 

“Haaa- please,” your entire body flushed, grinding your hips against Nicholas’ fingers, not putting them in yet. “Please what, angel?” he leaned closer, placing chaste kisses on your chest, 

“Stop teasing” you whined, squirming on his lap and he chuckled. “Aww, baby you’re so needy aren’t you?” he said mockingly.

“Nicholas …” your grip on him tightened. Yuma, on the other hand, was busy grinding into your ass, his hands leaving your chest to grip at your hips harshly. “Is Nicho being mean to you, baby?” he egged on you, his breath tickling your ear. 

Fresh tears brimming your eyes and Nicholas swears he almost came on the spot, “Mmm, don’t cry baby i’ll give you what you want,” he whined mockingly. 

Taking his hand off your thigh, his nimble fingers moving to unzip his pants and freeing his cock and Yuma lifted you off his lap easily, making you stand wobbly feet. 

“You’ll tell us when it’s too much, hmm?” you nodded feverishly, feeling Yuma splaying his hand on your back, pushing you to bend over until you were face to face with Nicholas’s crotch. 

Yuma’s hand moved to hike your dress up, your exposed ass pulled flush against his pelvis. Nicholas’ cock stood hard and reddened against his abdomen, “Can you suck me off pretty?”

You didn’t need to be told twice. 

Your hands moved to settle on his thighs and you started slow, kitten licking at his head occasionally wrapping your tongue around the flushed tip meanwhile Yuma took his pants off and started rubbing his leaking cock against your puffy lips, the wet slide sending jolts of electricity down your body making your grip on Nicholas’ thighs tighten.

“Y-yuma, please” you whined, your tongue swirling around Nicholas’ cock, running flat against his veins before wrapping your lips around his head, hollowing your cheeks in the process.

Nicholas’ groans echoed through the room which motivated you to start taking his length down your throat slowly, engulfing him in tight wet heat. “Fuck, just like that, pretty girl.” throwing his head back against the seat.

Thwack!

A harsh slap on your flushed ass jostled you, making you moan against Nicholas’ cock, Yuma’s fingers kneading the soft flesh, sheathing himself inside your awaiting cunt at the same time Nicholas shifts making take him in deeper.

Yuma groans, not moving yet, just enjoying the feeling of you wrapped around him, how deeply buried he is and you imagine you must be a sight, black dressed hiked up and bent over taking another man’s cock in your mouth as you grind back into him.

“Ready, baby?” he husked, and you mumbled something of approval the best you could, the hard snap of his hips pushing right towards Nicholas, who groans and gathers your hair into his fist. 

“You look so pretty like that, baby” Nicholas’ voice dripped like honey, making you look up at him doe-eyed; he liked what you were doing to him and you liked what he was doing to you.

“You’re taking me so well, pretty” Yuma rasped, pulling your hips down harder against him, making you swallow around Nicholas’ cock. “Shit, just like that.” 

Yuma set a brutal pace, fucking into your sopping cunt and Nicholas held you, keeping you steady. “Fuck” the grip on your hair tightened, “I’m so close, shit” and that only motivated you to suck harder. 

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna come down your throat” and you peered at the idea, your hands gripping his thighs tightly. “You want that, baby?” and you nodded to the best of your ability.

And Nicholas does exactly what you wanted, dissolving into the pleasure of Yuma fucking you onto his cock; softly moaning and throwing his head back as he came in your mouth. You tried swallowing the best you can but, there was so much you let go sputtering and gasping for air as your head rested on his thighs.

Nicholas’ warm hands immediately rested on your cheek, muttering sweet nothings as Yuma uses your body to drive the pleasure between you even higher.

You whimper and gasp against Nicholas’ thighs, you’re held in suspense for long moments, before one snap of Yuma’s hips sends you crashing over the edge, “So good for me” Yuma’s release follows; tense with hands gripping your hips tightly as he comes deep inside you. “Took us so well, baby” 

You went limp in their hold, Yuma hoisting you up to sit on the seats and Nicholas was by your side, lips tracing your neck and jaw. “Let’s get you cleaned up, pretty”

Feeling hazy, you didn’t trust yourself to speak so you just let them take care of you.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

[smidare-archive]

Your perv taki was soooo good…. It makes me imagine yuma like i know this guy is so gross

yuma is such a perv! u see how hes always touching up on the guys?? yeahhh i know a perv when i see them..

【 18+ 】 tw ──── perv!yuma . . dub con, yuma is openly a perv, groping, panty stealing, mentions of male masturbation, grinding, non con elements

perv!yuma who’s so openly shameless about it that he doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes drag down your body every time you walk around the shared apartment, licking his lips. he’ll straight up tell you “nice tits.” and other perverted comments with a lazy smirk. you just laugh it off thinking he’s joking. he’s never really joking.

perv!yuma who walks around your shared apartment in just sweatpants with no boxers, letting his hardened length bulge obviously through his grey sweats every time he sees you. he’ll even adjust himself right in front of you, cat-like eyes locked on yours with that cocky grin, “sorry, you just look too good today.”

perv!yuma who lets those hugs linger a little longer each day, hand sliding down your back until it rest right at the curve of your ass before he gives it a sort-of gentle squeeze and says “missed my favorite girl” in that soft voice, like it’s totally normal.

perv!yuma who always accidentally sends your the most graphic hentai, following it up with a message “oops wrong person sorry 😛” but deep down you know it wasnt an accident nor is he sorry.

perv!yuma who jerks off sooo loudly in his room with the door cracked open, moaning your name on purpose so you can hear every wet stroke and filthy groan through the thin walls. his excuse is always “didn’t think you were home.” with a shrug.

perv!yuma who steals your worn panties and starts leaving them back in your laundry basket covered in his cum, folded neatly like nothing happened. when you find them he just shrugs with that lazy grin, “weirdddd, must’ve gotten mixed up somehow.

perv!yuma who waits until you’re bent over picking something up to press right up behind you, hard cock nestled between your ass cheeks through your clothing while he reaches for the same thing. “my bad, tight space,” he whispers, rolling his hips once, twice, before finally stepping back with that stupid smirk on his face.

perv!yuma who offers to give you a massage after you complain about your back hurting, but spends the entire time just kneading your ass and sliding his fingers dangerously close to your pussy. every time you tense up he just presses harder and coos “relax, i’m a professional… yer getting so wet though, that normal?”

perv!yuma who gropes you under the blanket while you two are watching movies on the couch, fingers slipping under your shirt like it’s casual. when you freeze and whisper “yuma…?” he just leans in closer, breath hot against your ear, “shh, just let me feel you a little. you’re so soft.” you’re too flustered to push his hand away properly and he takes full advantage.

perv!yuma who corners you in the kitchen when you’re reaching for something on the top shelf, pressing his hard-on right against your ass while he “helps” by grabbing at your hips. “careful, you’re gonna fall,” he murmurs, grinding slowly like it’s an accident, lips brushing your neck. he always stays there a few seconds longer than necessary.

perv!yuma who always sits way too close on your tiny couch during game nights, hand resting high on your thigh like it belongs there. every time you shift slightly he squeezes—fingers creeping higher until they’re brushing the edge of your panties. you keep glancing at him and he just smirks and says “focus on the game, baby.”

© smidare 2026ㅤ ❤︎ㅤ likes & reposts r appreciated!

authors note: i ♡ perv &team ! this idea came from this anon ~~ i didnt go into any extreme non con territory bc ik how ppl feel about that LOL

[guliexe]

━━━DON'T PLAY DUMB 18+

Nakakita Yuma x Female!Reader

.ᐟwarnings/tags: perv!yuma, porn with a little plot, dom!yuma, reader is down bad, dry humping, teasing, dirty talk, possessiveness, slight choking, fingering, face sitting, spanking, p in v, praising, degrading, squirting, creampie, explicit photo is taken at the end, 80% of this is just pure smut lmao

♡ you fold from yuma’s teasing and he gives you the best fuck of your life

.ᐟwc: 5.1k (no proofread)

You’d met Yuma through your friends Nicholas and Maki, your best friends, alongside the rest of their friends, and over the past few months you’d been hanging out with him and the boys practically every weekend. What you didn’t know, though, was that Yuma had harbored a huge crush on you since the day he met you, and with it, the most perverted thoughts. Every time you’d bend over to pick something up, the bottom of your lacy panties would peek out from under your skirt, and he would stare, licking his lips. And when you would slip into a tight top without a bra, your breasts would press up and your nipples would harden, making him wonder how his cum would look all over them. Even when you would do the most innocent thing—like showing him your new set of nails—he would picture those polished fingers wrapped around his cock.

He would jerk off to you every night, imagining you sucking him off with your pretty mouth. His intentions towards you were pretty clear, but you were too oblivious to notice. You liked him a lot, more than just a friend, but you had no clue he felt the same way, and you were too scared to initiate anything. But the thing is, he knows about your lil crush on him, and wanted to tease you a little until you finally break. So when Maki brought up the idea of throwing a house party at their place—music, drinks, everyone crashing after—Yuma was thrilled. He knew you’d be there. Knew you’d show up in something cute, probably not even realizing the way you always drove him insane.

The night started off chill. You were curled up on the couch with a drink on the coffee table infront of you, laughing at Nicholas drunkenly trying to freestyle while Maki recorded. Yuma sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, a casual arm thrown behind you on the back of the couch. Every time you leaned forward to take a sip, his eyes dropped to the way your dress dipped just slightly on your cleavage, and every time you weren’t looking, he leaned in a little closer. You thought maybe he was tipsy. Maybe he didn’t realize how close he was. But when you looked up at him and found his eyes already on you, lips parted like he wanted to say something but didn’t—your stomach flipped.

As the night wore on and the group thinned out, Maki dragged Nicholas upstairs, yelling something about making sure he didn’t vomit anywhere. One by one, people started leaving, until it was just you and Yuma in the dim living room, the bass from someone’s playlist still low and thumping through the walls. He let his head rest back on the couch and ran his hand through his hair before turning to look at you. Half lidded eyes, cheeks a bit red from the alcohol. You stared at his neck, how his addams’s apple bobbed when he swallowed and how the light from the led strips on the walls perfectly lit up his face and neck. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked softly, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Your heart stuttered as you realised he’d caught you staring. Heat rushed to your cheeks and you slightly bit your lip. “Like what?”, you mumbled with a nervous chuckle, eyes darting away in a desperate attempt to look anywhere but at him.

He didn’t answer right away. Just kept looking at you, like he could see right through every layer of embarrassment you were trying to hide. His grin deepened, lazy and amused, and then he shifted—turning his body fully toward you, his leg brushing against yours as he placed his hand just above your knee, making your body freeze. “Like you wanna eat me up”, he murmured with a little smirk on his face. Your breath hitched. You glanced at him, wide-eyed, trying to tell if he was serious or just teasing you again. But there was something heavier in his voice this time. Something that made your thighs clench together under your dress. “I don’t—” You started to deflect, but Yuma put his elbow on the couch, his head on his fist and leaned in closer, his voice dropping low near your ear, “Don’t play dumb, baby”. The pet name made you blush even harder, your big eyes locked on his, and his hand started caressing your skin. “You know I’ve been watching you, right?” he said, his fingers brushing lightly along the side of your thigh, moving further up, agonisingly slow. “The way you dress around me, the way you laugh and blush everytime i give you attention…”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and searching. “You think I haven’t noticed?” You swallowed hard, heart thudding so loud you were sure he could hear it. “I don’t know what you mean,” you whispered, but your voice wavered, giving you away. Yuma smiled again, satisfied, and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering at the side of your jaw. “I think you do.” He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away—but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you like that, like he was starving and you were the only thing on the menu. His nose brushed against yours, lips so close they ghosted over your mouth when he spoke. “Been jerking off to you for months,” he murmured. “Ever since the day we met, when you wore that cute skirt of yours.” You couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, already breathless, frozen in place under the weight of his voice.

The smug heat in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. Just like that, he had you wrapped around his finger again. “I wanted to wait until you cracked first,” he said, knuckles brushing up your inner thigh, reaching closer and closer to where you needed it the most, “but I think I’m done playing.” You didn’t mean to lean in. It just happened—drawn to him and his stupid lips. Your lips brushed his, featherlight, and for a second, neither of you moved. Then his hand slid to the back of your neck and pulled you the rest of the way in. He kissed you like he owned your breath, like every sound you made belonged to him, slow but hungry. His hand slid up further up your thigh, firm and unapologetic, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled you closer, making your leg fall between his and lean closer. You gasped into his mouth when he squeezed, and he took full advantage, tongue slipping past your lips, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, harder.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, hips squirming under his touch, dress riding up just enough to expose the lower curve of your ass. “Fuck,” he muttered against your mouth, “Been dying to do this.” You barely registered the words, too lost in the way his hand slid higher, over the thin piece of fabric of your panties on your hip. His grip tightened, feeling the curve of you on his palm. When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen, breath shaky, pupils blown. Yuma’s eyes dragged down your body like he was undressing you right there on the couch. And then his voice dropped, low and certain, “Let’s go upstairs. Now.”

Your breath hitched again at the command in his voice. He was already moving, already reaching for your hand like he wasn’t giving you a chance to second-guess. His fingers laced with yours, and you let him pull you up from the couch, your legs barely keeping up with your racing heart and throbbing core. You followed him up the stairs and through the quiet hallway, your hand tight in his. As you walked outside of Nicholas’s room, you spotted Maki passed out on the bed, his arm slung dramatically over Nicholas’s chest where he lay drooling beside him. Neither of them stirred as Yuma led you past.He opened the guest room door, not even bothering to turn the lights on. The faint glow from the city and the moon was just enough. He closed the door behind you, then turned to face you.

You didn’t get a chance to say anything else. Yuma stepped in close, hands slipping around your waist to pull you against him. His lips found yours again, this time slower, less rushed, but deeper, like he was savoring it. His fingers slid down your back, then lower, gripping your ass under the fabric of your dress and pulling you flush against the hard bulge in his sweats. “You have no idea,” he murmured between kisses, “how many times I’ve imagined this.” You whimpered softly, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance as he walked you back toward the bed. He sat down first, then tugged you onto his lap with practiced ease, your thighs straddling his as his lips found your neck. He sucked at the spot just below your ear, biting lightly, soothing it with his tongue before moving lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your neck to your collarbone. Each kiss was wetter, messier, his mouth leaving heat and spit and little groans against your skin as he dragged his tongue lazily over the spot he’d just sucked.

You couldn’t help but roll your hips against him, slow and shaky, grinding down on the thick length pressing up through his sweats. The friction made your breath catch, made you cling tighter to his shirt as your thighs trembled around him. “Fuck—so needy for me already, huh?” he teased, a soft chuckle leaving his mouth. “Yuma…” you whined, voice barely above a whisper. His grip on your hips tightened, guiding your rhythm as he tilted his head back to look at you, lips red and shiny from kissing. “Yeah? You feel how hard you’re making me, baby?” Your only answer was a soft, desperate moan as you rocked against him again, your panties damp and clinging to you beneath your dress. Yuma leaned forward, licking a stripe up your neck before sucking another very visible mark into your skin, right over your collarbone, slow and possessive. Your hips moved on instinct now, slow, needy rolls that made your clit throb with every drag of your soaked panties against the thick ridge of his cock beneath the fabric.

You could barely keep your eyes open, lashes fluttering as your head tipped forward in the crook of his neck. Yuma sighed softly, one hand still gripping your hip while the other slid up, fingers slipping under your dress. He didn’t stop until his fingertips brushed between your thighs, dragging over the front of your panties—slow at first, then pressing in to feel just how wet you were. “Oh, fuck…” he breathed, a teasing smirk appearing on his lips. “You’re soaked. You like me that much?” You whimpered again, “Mhm…”, nodding, thighs twitching as his fingers pressed down more firmly, rubbing the slick fabric against your swollen clit. Yuma licked his lips, eyes locked on your face as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties. The moment his fingers met your bare heat, you left a small gasp, gripping him tighter.

“Shit, baby. You’re dripping.” His fingers slid through your folds, slow and teasing, before circling your clit with a firm, deliberate touch. You whined, thighs parting further for him. Then, without warning, he pressed one finger inside, slow and deep, watching the way your face twisted, the way your body arched into his. The stretch made your breath hitch, your nails digging into his shoulders. He gave you just a second to adjust before slipping in a second finger, having him groaning into your neck. “That’s it,” he whispered, curling them slightly, dragging them against the spot that made your legs tremble. He worked them in and out, slow at first, drawing soft, wet sounds from between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with maddening control.

You were already falling apart on his lap, hips grinding down to chase the rhythm, and Yuma was eating up every second of it, how needy, and pliant you were just for him. “My dirty, dirty girl,” he teased, lips brushing your cheek. Yuma pulled his fingers from you, watching them glisten before dragging them slowly across your inner thigh, smearing your arousal over your skin. Then he leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “Lay down for me.” he said, low and commanding. You nodded, breathless and dizzy, and moved without hesitation, back hitting the mattress and thighs still trembling. Yuma followed without missing a beat, eyes locked on you like he couldn’t get enough. He crawled over you, caging you in beneath him as his lips crashed into yours, hungry and rough this time. There was no patience left, tongues tangling, teeth grazing, your whimpers and moans muffled by his mouth as he kissed you like he needed you to breathe. His hands were everywhere—palming your waist, tugging at your dress, sliding up your sides until he pulled it up and over your head in one swift motion.

You gasped as the air hit your skin, his gaze dropped to take you in. “Fuck,” he muttered, dragging his hands slowly down your stomach. “So pretty laid out f’me.” He leaned back in, kissing you again, slower now but just as deep, his hand slipping behind your back to undo your bra and his mouth found your neck, leaving soft kisses on the skin. Once it came off, he tossed it aside and immediately dipped his head down, mouth closing around your nipple. He sucked, slow and deep, letting his tongue swirl over your nipple while his hand kneaded the other, fingers tugging and teasing until you were arching into him, breath hitching with every pull of his mouth. Then he moved to the other, biting down gently before soothing it with his tongue. His mouth roamed, dragging wet kisses across the curves of your tits, leaving hickeys wherever he wanted.

Every mark he sucked into your skin throbbed with heat, and the slick trail of spit he left behind glistened under the low light. “Look at these perfect fucking tits,” he muttered against your skin, voice low and hoarse, tongue flicking lazily over one nipple before sucking again, hard enough to draw another desperate moan from your throat. “All mine.” His hand roamed lower on your tummy, caressing it softly without stopping his mouth. You whimpered, breath shaky, hands tangled in his hair. “Please…” His brows lifted, lips twitching into a filthy smirk. “Please what, baby?” he taunted, reaching down to palm your thigh, squeezing it as he kissed just below your breast. “You gotta tell me.” “I need you, Yuma,” you breathed, hips twitching. “Please…” “Oh, you need me?” he echoed, clearly getting off on your desperation. “Need to cum like a little slut while I’m sucking on your pussy?” He chuckled under his breath, eyes flicking up to yours.

“Mhm, please Yuma, need it.” His hand dragged slowly down your thigh, lips brushing over your skin, and when he reached the edge of your panties, his fingers hooked into the waistband and tugged them down. The cool air kissed your wet heat as he slid the fabric down your legs, his eyes locked on the way your arousal clung to your folds, glistening. “Fuck…” he whispered like it was a prayer, the sight alone enough to make him throb in his sweats. He dropped your panties on the floor and slipped his fingers between your thighs, parting you with two fingertips. His touch was gentle at first, sliding between your folds, dragging slowly through your slick just to feel how messy you already were. “Cute” he whispered, more to himself, rubbing circles around your clit before sliding lower, teasing at your entrance without pushing in. “You’re so wet, baby.” You let out a soft whimper, hips shifting under his hand, trying to chase more pressure.

Yuma grinned, smug, as he brought his fingers back up and spread your slick on your clit. “Sit on my face.” he commanded, voice low and serious. Your breath hitched, eyes snapping to his. “W-What…?” “I said sit on my face.” His eyes darkened as he looked up at you, jaw clenched slightly. “Don’t be all shy now.” You froze, face burning, thighs instinctively trying to close. Your hands fidgeted at your sides as your voice came out small. “I-I’ve never—I can’t-” “Yes you can.” he cut you off, tongue wetting his bottom lip as he sat up slowly on the bed, one hand firm on your waist. pulling you onto his lap, fingers gripping your thighs as he shifted you to straddle him—but not to sit fully. Just enough to hover over him, your soaked pussy glistening inches from his mouth. “Come on, baby” You tried to keep your weight off, unsure, trembling, but Yuma wasn’t having it. “Sit this sweet pussy on my fucking face,” he said, voice sharp. You hesitated, eyes wide, but he narrowed his gaze and grabbed a handful of your ass, pulling you down.

As soon as your folds touched his mouth, you moaned and immediately put your hands on the headboard. His tongue licked a thick stripe up your slit before flattening against your clit. “Shit, baby,” he groaned against you, breath hot. “You taste so fuckin’ good.” He grabbed both cheeks of your ass and grinded you down harder, his tongue fucking into you now, licking, slurping, messily devouring your pussy while his nose pressed right against your clit. You whined from the pleasure, your hand moved to grip his hair, thighs trembling as you started moving—tentative at first, then grinding down onto his tongue, chasing the way he flicked it against your clit. Yuma groaned, sucking hard, fingers digging into your ass to hold you there. “There you go,” he panted, “That’s it. Rub that pretty pussy all over my fucking face.” Your hips stuttered as you rode his face, the filthy sounds of his mouth working between your thighs echoing in the room. His tongue flicked mercilessly at your clit, mouth wet and open, then shoving it deep inside your hole. You were trembling, legs shaking, moans spilling uncontrollably from your lips. “Yuma—I’m… I’m gonna—”

He didn’t stop. He grabbed your ass tighter, pulling you down harder against his face, smothering himself in your pussy like he wanted to drown in it. He hummed into you, voice muffled by your cunt, and the vibration of it made your back arch. “Cum on my tongue,” he rasped when he finally pulled back just long enough to speak. His lips were slick with your arousal, chin wet, eyes blown with lust. And after some seconds, came. The orgasm ripped through you fast and violent, your whole body going tight as your thighs clamped around his head. You cried out, grinding down against his face as your pussy throbbed and pulsed on his tongue. Yuma moaned like he was getting off just from tasting you, licking up every drop. “Good girl.” he whispered against your soaked cunt. Before you could catch your breath, Yuma’s hands were already on your waist. He flipped you easily, your back hitting the mattress as he loomed over you, his body casting a shadow in the dim light.

His hands braced on either side of your head, his face still glistening with your slick, and that filthy smirk never left his lips. He leaned in to kiss you hungrily, making you taste yourself from his mouth, then pulling away quickly. “Look at you,” he muttered, eyes dragging slowly down your body. “All fucked out already, and I haven’t even put it in yet.” He sat up on his knees and grabbed his shirt, yanking it off in one smooth motion. Your eyes immediately dropped to his chest—broad and toned, your thighs immediately pressing together again. He noticed, and his smirk deepened. “You like what you see, baby?” he teased, voice low and cocky. You nodded, biting your lip, then his hands moved down to his waistband, pushing his sweats down just enough to reveal the thick bulge straining against his boxers. He palmed himself over the fabric, watching your reaction like it was his favorite show. His cock twitched under the touch, already leaking a dark spot through the material.

You reached your arm to his thigh desperately trying to pull him closer, his hand squeezing around his length .“You want it this bad?” You nodded quickly, dazed and needy, thighs clenching again at the sight of him. “Nah, say it,” he ordered, voice sharp, dominant. “Use that pretty mouth. Tell me how bad you want it.” “I—I want it,” you breathed, eyes locked on the heavy outline in his boxers. “Want your cock, Yuma. Please.” your hand moving further up. “Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth. “You sound so good when you beg.” He hooked his fingers in the waistband and finally tugged his boxers down, freeing his cock—and fuck was he big. Thick, veiny, flushed red at the tip and already leaking. Your mouth went dry at the sight of it. Yuma stroked himself once, slow, precum smearing over his fist. “Eyes up.” he said, grabbing your jaw hard and tilting your face toward him. “You’re gonna take every inch like a good girl, yeah?” You nodded helplessly, and he leaned in, mouth brushing yours again as he lined himself up with your entrance. He gripped the base of his cock and dragged it slowly through your folds, groaning low as your slick coated him from base to tip. He ran it up and down your pussy, smearing his precum against your clit, your breath catching each time he nudged the sensitive bundle.

You whimpered, hips bucking just the slightest bit, trying to chase the pressure, needing him to give you more. But Yuma just chuckled, low and perverted, his eyes glued to the way your pussy glistened under the head of his cock. He gave a few more lazy glides, letting the swollen head of his cock tap against your clit just to hear your breath hitch. “I should make you beg again. But you’ve been so good for me tonight.” He aligned himself at your entrance again, teasing the tip just barely inside, then paused. “Take a breath,” he whispered, eyes flicking up to yours, voice calm. And then he pushed in. Slow at first, just the thick head stretching you open, making your back arch and your hands grip his biceps. “Fuck—Yuma” you gasped, your voice high and trembling as your walls clenched around him. “Thaaat’s it.” He groaned, jaw tight, watching your pussy swallow him inch by inch. “Fucking tight…shit.” He pushed deeper, the stretch nearly overwhelming, your breath coming in short little whimpers as he filled you to the hilt. His hips finally met yours, buried so deep it made your stomach flutter. He didn’t move right away. He just held himself there, grinding his hips into yours in slow, deliberate circles, making sure you felt every single inch.

He pulled out halfway, then slammed back in, hard. You cried out, body jolting beneath him as he set a brutal rhythm, each thrust deep, like he wanted to fuck the shape of him into your walls. His hands gripped your hips, dragging you down to meet every stroke, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the dark room. “Say it,” he panted, his pace unrelenting. “Say you’re mine.” “I—I’m yours, Yuma!” you moaned, voice high and shaking. “All yours!” He leaned down, teeth grazing your neck as he fucked you harder, the bed creaking under his pace. “Damn right you are.” Yuma groaned against your neck, biting down just hard enough to make your back arch and then kissing the same spot. His fingers wrapped around your throat, his other gripped your waist, pounding into you. Your moans came out in broken little sobs, your hands scrambling to hold onto his hair as each thrust knocked the breath out of you. He was so deep, thick and stretching you to your limit, the sound of his hips slapping against your soaked cunt obscene in the dark room. His hand slipped from your waist to your lower belly, pressing down firmly, and you gasped when you felt it. The thick bulge of his cock, deep and pulsing, outlined under the skin. "Fuck, baby" he rasped, palm flattening over the spot. "Look how deep i am." Your breath hitched, legs trembling around him as he kept thrusting. "Taking me so damn good." he muttered, his hand sliding up to your breast, giving it a squeeze. “Such a good fucking girl.”

“Yum-ma~ I’m c-close! Without warning, he pulled out, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. Your pussy clenching around nothing. He grabbed your hips and flipped you over easily, pressing your face into the pillows as he pulled your ass up. “Stay just like that” he ordered, voice low and serious. You barely had a second to breathe before he slammed back in, the force of it making your whole body jolt. You moaned into the sheets, drool slicking the pillow as he pounded into you from behind, raw and relentless. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you back into every thrust. He groaned, pulling out just enough to see the mess he was making. His cock gleamed with your slick, coated from base to tip, and where your bodies met, a creamy white ring, thick and sticky around him. “Fucking slut, creaming all over me.” You whined, flushed and wrecked, as he pushed back in, burying himself in and slapping your ass hard.

“You’re mine” he growled against your spine, hips slamming into you again and again. “You fucking belong to me.” He reached forward, fingers twisting into your hair and yanking you upright against his chest. The sudden pain made you cry out, your hands flying to the headboard again gripping it tight as his other hand slid down between your legs. His fingers found your swollen clit, rubbing slow, messy circles that sent a white-hot jolt through your core. You sobbed, grinding helplessly against him. “You like this, baby?” he whispered, filthy and smug right against your ear. “Like being used like this, takin’ my cock while I play with this little pussy?” “Mhm” you whimpered, nodding your head fast. Your whole body trembled, the pleasure hitting sharp and deep on your cervix, and then you started to move. Hips rolling back against him, desperate for more. You rocked yourself along his length, fucking yourself on him, your thighs shaking as the slick, wet sound of it got even louder.

“Just like that,” he grunted, jaw clenched. “Fuck yourself on my dick, baby.” His hand never left your clit, keeping up that relentless pressure as you moved on him, over and over, taking him deeper each time. His cock hit that spot inside you perfectly, again and again, until your moans turned into broken high pitched cries. Yuma snapped, his grip tightened, both hands snapping back to your waist as he slammed into you hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. He pulled you back onto his cock, pounded into you relentlessly, each thrust hitting so deep your ass shook. “F–fuck, Yuma,” you choked out, voice high and shaking. “ s’too much, f—feels like I’m gonna p-pee—” His dick twitched in you, one hand sneaking around to slap down on your clit again, fast and messy. “Shit, let go, baby, trust me.” “Yuma—!” Your whole body tensed, then snapped. A cry ripped from your throat as you squirted around him, soaking his thighs, his cock, the sheets. His hips didn’t stop, watching the mess you made all over him. “Fuck, that’s my girl.” he hissed, eyes locked on where your cunt clenched around him, your slick pouring down his shaft. “Fuckin’ drenched me.”

You could only moan, every sound helpless, your body trembling under the overwhelming rhythm of his hips. He pressed forward, his chest flush against your back, breath hot on your neck. “Gonna cum in you,” he sighed, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix with every thrust. “Gonna fill you up so good, baby.” You sobbed his name, walls fluttering around him and making him whimper into your ear. His pace slowed down, sloppy and messy, slapping and grabbing on your ass, until he slammed into you one last time, his cock twitched as warm strings of cum filled up your insides. He stayed there for a moment, breathing heavy against your back, one hand still gripping your hip like he never wanted to let go. He slowly pulled back just enough to watch your swollen folds still wrapped around the base of his cock, his cum already beginning to drip out of you. You were trembling, breathless, face down on the mattress with your ass still raised for him like his perfect little masterpiece.

“Fuck,” he muttered, biting his lip as he reached for his phone on the nightstand, not even hesitating. You whimpered softly, your face flushed, hazy and fucked-out as he angled the phone “Stay like that,” he said, thumb swiping the screen to find the camera. “Gotta have this—look how messy you are f’me.” The shutter clicked once, twice. A picture of your ass spread by his big hand, your pussy glistening and dripping with his cum. He set the phone down again and leaned over you, large hand brushing sweaty hair from your cheek before pressing a kiss to your temple. “So good for me,” he whispered, gently easing out of you. The drag of his softening length made you whimper again, sensitive and spent. You felt the bed shift as he got up, only to return with a towel. He cleaned you slowly, his touch soft and patient as he wiped between your thighs. “Got you, baby,” he said, pressing another kiss to your lower back.

“You did so good. Took it all for me.” Once you were clean, he crawled back into bed and pulled you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms, his hand rubbing soft circles into your back. “Let’s stay like this for a bit” he murmured, lips brushing your forehead. “Then we can sleep at my place, hm?” You nodded sleepily against his chest, your body relaxed, arm wrapped around him pulling him closer, softly kissing his collarbone as he stroked your hair.

my other works ➵ masterlist

A/N: this would’ve been so much better and so much more detailed but i’m too lazy to rewrite some parts and also i have no idea if there’s any mistakes i don’t wanna read it again pls tell me if there’s any

© guliexe

[smidare-archive]

seeing as u wrote for hybrid taki, what are ur thoughts on kitty hybrid yuma or bunny hybrid harua???

kitty!yu and bunny!rua don't get along unless it comes to breaking you~

【 18+ 】 tw ──── hybrid!yuma & harua . . both r mean doms, mentions of barbed cock, rough sex, they are MEANNNNN, degrading, mouth fucking, unprotected p in v, dacryphilia, double penetration. don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.

when you adopted kitty!yuma and bunny!harua, you expected them to not get along. one was a predator and another was prey. you expected bickering, hissing, chasing, maybe even an occasional nip or bite. yuma’s sharp teeth nipping at harua's floppy ears when the bunny got too close to his favorite sunbeam, or harua thumping his foot in warning whenever yuma’s tail swished too close. 

but when it came to you?

they became a perfectly synchronized team. yuma knelt in front of you, one clawed hand tangled gently in your hair as he guided his thick, barbed cock past your lips. the tiny ridges along his length dragged deliciously against your tongue, making you moan around him.

behind you stood, harua who was pressed close, his soft hands gripping your hips with surprising strength for such a timid bunny. fucking into you with fast, frantic, and relentless thrusts. hips snapping forward in rapid, deep strokes that drove you violently forward onto yuma’s cock. 

yuma lets out a light laugh, tightening his grip in your hair and thrusting shallowly into your mouth to match harua's ruthless rhythm. “pathetic. our sweet owner turns into such a messy cocksleeve the second we use her." 

harua's breathy laugh followed right after, high and mocking as his floppy ears bouncing wildly with every brutal snap of his hips. “hear that? even yuma thinks you’re pathetic. look at you—gagging and drooling all over his cock while i breed your sloppy little hole.” his cotton tail puffed up aggressively, one hand leaving your hip just long enough to deliver a sharp slap to your ass. 

“such a greedy cunt. sucking me in like it’s starving for bunny cock. you love getting used like this, don’t you? getting fucked stupid between your two hybrids,” harua mocked, slamming in particularly hard, grinding deep for a second before resuming the brutal, rapid thrusts that forced you further down yuma’s length.

yuma smirked down at you, golden brown eyes gleaming with cruel amusement as he watched tears streak your cheeks. he gave a slow, deliberate thrust, letting the barbs of his fat cock catch on your lips.

“look at that face,” yuma purred, voice low and mocking. “all teary and fucked-out already. our big, strong owner reduced to a drooling mess in under five minutes. how cute.” he tightened his fingers in your hair, pulling you forward just enough to force another inch down your throat.

“come on, pretty. choke on it properly. i wanna to feel yer throat squeeze every time rua slams into that sloppy pussy. that’s all you’re good for tonight—a warm, wet hole for your hybrids to use. thats why you got us, huh? so you could get fucked stupid every night?” 

harua moaned in agreement, slapping your ass sharply again as his hips snapped even faster. “she’s squeezing me so fucking tight when you talk to her like that. keep going, yu.”

you trembled helplessly between your mean predator and your even meaner prey, body buzzing and fat tears wetting your cheeks

they didn’t always get along.

but when it came to breaking you together?

they could stand each other for a little while.

© smidare 2026 ♥︎ likes & reposts r appreciated!

[xohoonz]

hoon’s biceps are a propaganda i will ALWAYS fall for 🫣

[bunheee]

… also im still here btw

[bunheee]

i need to redo my navi post blegh it’s so dated and ugly and i hate it so much

[bunheee]

im sooooo sososooso unwell over that pic its not even funny I CANT FOCUS ON THE WORK I MEANT TO START HOURS AGO PLEASE doyum you are sick and evil and twisted

[bunheee]

hey so !!!!!!?))??! what the FUCK is his problem !!!!!!!!!!!!!1!1!1!1!!!!!!!

[bunheee]

had something on my mind i’ve wanted to write for the past week since the concert but i just cant make myself get around to doing it IM DRIVING MYSELF INSANE SAVE ME

[guliexe]

━━━ON THE LOW 18+

Dealer!Nicholas/Wang Yixiang x Female!Reader

.ᐟwarnings/tags: dealer/stoner!nicho, i call him weno in this, soft dom!nicho, shy!reader, loverboy!nicho, drug use, shotgunning, romantic, making out, dry humping, praising, fingering, oral (f. receiving), p in v, mating press, crying, unprotected sex, confessing, aftercare

♡ you started buying weed for your friends and ended up falling for the dealer—turns out, he fell even harder.

.ᐟwc: 9.7k (no proofread)

You’d seen him around long before you ever spoke to him. He wasn’t the kind of guy you could ignore. Not because he was loud, Weno was anything but loud, but because he had this presence. Calm, quiet, and detached, like nothing ever really touched him. He was always there but just out of reach. The kind of person who didn’t care if people were watching, but somehow still ended up being the one everyone looked at. You had a couple classes near the same buildings. He always showed up late, always dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed—big hoodie, baggy jeans, backpack hanging off one shoulder. Never rushed. Never looked stressed. Just there. He’d walk past where you and your friends were sitting on the grass and barely glance your way. But even that one second felt heavier than it should. You didn’t know much about him, but you noticed him. You always had. Weno wasn’t exactly a mystery, everyone on campus knew what he did, they just didn’t talk about it. Not out loud, anyway. The stories passed around in whispers. That he sells, and it’s good shit too. That he never chased customers, people came to him. That if he liked you, he might give you more than you paid for. That if he really liked you, you’d know.

You didn’t know if any of that was true. But what you did know was that your friends wanted weed and were too scared to go get it themselves. So they asked you. Apparently, being the quiet one made you the designated “safe” option. It wasn’t like you and Weno were strangers, anyway. You’d talked a few times now. Nothing long, quick chats during pickups, the occasional hi at a party when you passed by each other. He’d never made you feel weird or unsafe. Just… flustered. A little warm in the chest, a little unsure what to say next. He had a way of watching you that felt deliberate, even when he said nothing at all. Your friend had shoved some cash into your hand at the last minute, babbling about how “he’s chill, he’s not scary, just please go for me, I can’t” — and you’d sighed, texting him before you could overthink it. He told you to meet him behind the dorms. 6:30. You almost didn’t go. You weren’t sure why he made you nervous, he hadn’t done anything to deserve that label. But something about him felt sharp beneath all the calm. Like he could see through you if he wanted to. When you rounded the corner that evening, he was already leaning against the side of his car, phone in hand, headphones around his neck. The sun was low, painting the edges of his face gold. You caught yourself staring before you could stop. He looked up as you approached. “Didn’t expect you,” he said, not moving. You blinked, “Why?” He shrugged, “Thought one of your loud friends would be the one to show. You’re not really the type to do this.” It wasn’t teasing exactly, but the way he said it made your face warm. You cleared your throat. “They made me come.” “Mm,” he hummed. “Figured.”

He pushed off the car, pulling a ziplock from his hoodie pocket. You reached for it automatically, but he didn’t hand it over right away. “You ever tried it?” You shook your head. “No. It’s not really… my thing.” He tilted his head slightly. Not judging, just observing. “Didn’t think it was.” he chuckled softly, then he handed it to you, fingers brushing yours for half a second too long. You looked down at your hand, not at the bag, but at where your skin still tingled. “You’re good,” he said quietly, “Let me know next time.” You nodded, muttered a soft thanks, already starting to turn away, but then he said your name. You froze and glanced back. He was still standing by his car, one hand in his pocket, the other lazily spinning his keys around his finger. The way he looked at you made your stomach flip, like he wasn’t just looking at you, but through you. “You always do stuff for your friends?” His tone was casual, but the question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?” He shrugged a little. “They want something, and you’re the one who shows up.” A pause. “That happen a lot?”You weren’t sure how to answer. It did happen a lot. They asked, you went. Not because you wanted to, but because it felt easier than saying no. You glanced down at the ziplock in your hand. “I guess,” you mumbled. “I don’t know.” He hummed low, like that told him everything he needed to know. You looked back up, ready to say something else—anything, maybe even defend yourself, but he beat you to it. “You’re a good girl.” The words were soft and genuine, but they landed heavy. Your breath caught. His gaze didn’t waver—steady, calm, like he hadn’t just said something that made your skin go warm all over. You didn’t know what to do with that. You didn’t even know what it meant coming from him. You just knew it made something flutter in your stomach. “Thanks,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. You turned and walked off a little too quickly, heart pounding, ears hot, his voice still echoing behind your ribs. You’re a good girl. You didn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the night. It wasn’t long before your friends asked again. Same excuse, same tone, a whiny “please, he already knows you” and cash pushed into your hand like you owed them something. You hesitated more this time. Not because of them, but because of him. You hadn’t stopped thinking about last time. It replayed in your head again and again. You stared at his contact in your phone for some minutes before typing out the message.

You

hey my friends wanna grab again

He replied two minutes later.

Weno

same place 7:30

When you showed up this time, he was inside his car, driver’s door open, music playing low through the speakers. He looked up as you approached and smiled, lazy and half-lidded. “Hey,” he said, voice low. “Hey.”You tried not to sound nervous. You weren’t even sure why you were nervous. This wasn’t new. You’d done this before. But this time, it felt different. You felt different. He stepped out, shutting the car door behind him as he pulled the same ziplock from the pocket of his jeans. You took it wordlessly, but his fingers brushed yours again, on purpose this time. You could feel it in the way he didn’t rush, didn’t pull away immediately. “Still not trying it?” he asked, tilting his head. You shook your head. “Not yet.” He raised a brow. “Why not?” “I just… haven’t.” You tucked the bag quickly into your jacket pocket like it might deflect the attention. “You scared?” The way he asked it wasn’t mocking, just curious, like he wanted to understand you, not challenge you. You hesitated. “No,” you said finally. “Just don’t wanna.” He nodded slowly, watching you again with that unreadable expression. “Still doing things for your friends, though.” You pressed your lips together. “I guess.” “They ever do stuff for you?” You blinked. “What?” He shrugged. “Just wondering.” You didn’t answer. Mostly because you didn’t have one. He could probably tell, because he didn’t push. He just looked at you for a long second, eyes dropping to your mouth before flicking back up to meet your gaze as he rolled a blunt for him. “You should stop letting people use you.” The bluntness of it caught you off guard. You shifted on your feet, unsure whether to say thank you or tell him it wasn’t like that, even though maybe it was. “You don’t even like them that much, do you?” Your breath hitched. “They’re my friends.” “Mm,” he hummed. “If you say so.”

After that, it happened a few more times. The same routine: a text, a time, a quiet walk behind the dorms where he’d be waiting. Sometimes he was standing. Sometimes in the driver’s seat with the door open. Sometimes already smoking, low music humming from the speakers. And each time, it got a little easier to look him in the eye. But also harder not to look too long. Weno never talked much. He didn’t fill silence just to hear himself speak. He asked things, small things, personal in ways that didn’t feel invasive, just seen. He was trying to piece you together quietly, without making a show of it. You’d come with your friends’ money in your pocket and leave with more than you paid for. Not every time, but enough that you noticed. When you offered to give him more, he just shook his head, said “You’re good,” and he meant it, it wasn’t just about the cash anymore. You didn’t tell your friends about how often you started going. Sometimes it wasn’t even about picking up anymore. You’d hand over the cash, but he’d wave it off. “Not this time.” You started to wonder if he even gave you real amounts. If this was still a deal or just an excuse. What you did know was that somewhere along the way, something started to shift.

It was in the way your pulse picked up when his name lit up your screen. In how you started getting ready earlier than you needed to. In how you made sure your outfit and make up was cute before leaving, like that would help keep your face from giving you away when he looked at you like he always did. It was on the low. No one really knew how often you were seeing him now—certainly not your friends. To them, it was still just you doing the awkward task they were too scared for. They didn’t know that half the time you went to Weno now, it wasn’t even because of them. Sometimes they didn’t ask at all—you just found yourself texting him anyway. And he always said yes. You weren’t sure when it stopped being about weed. You weren’t sure it ever really was. Sometimes you’d sit with him for a while. In the passenger seat of his car, parked in the same quiet lot behind the dorms. He’d roll one and lean back with the window cracked, slow smoke curling out into the night while music filled the silence. He never pushed anything on you. Never asked why you stayed. But you stayed. You weren’t good at talking about yourself, and he didn’t make you. He just gave you space to exist, and maybe that was what started doing it. Maybe that’s why you kept feeling warmer every time you saw him. More sure that he saw you. And you started to open up to him. You two would hang out and talk about anything and anyone very frequently.

You were curled up in the passenger seat, legs tucked under you, jacket zipped halfway. The night was cool, and the air smelled like weed and cologne, smoke curling from the blunt between his fingers. His playlist low in the background that made it feel like time moved slower in his car. You hadn’t said much in the last ten minutes. Just sat there, letting the silence hang. But it wasn’t awkward. Weno never made things awkward. You gave him a small smile, eyes drifting out the window. The streetlights cast a warm glow across the dashboard. He tapped the ash into the tray and leaned back, one arm stretched across the back of your seat like he didn’t even think about it. “I don’t get it,” you said quietly after a moment. “You do this with all your clients?” “Do what?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly, playful but unreadable. “This.” You motioned vaguely between you. “Sit in the car, talk like this, not charge them.” He chuckled once, deep and soft in his chest. “No.” You blinked. “No?” He turned his head, looked right at you, and shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “They’re not you.” Your stomach fluttered. You tried to play it off, but your smile gave you away. He tilted his head slightly, watching you through the soft haze in the car. “You know you’re my favorite, right?” Your head snapped toward him. “What?” He smirked, exhaled a slow breath, eyes never leaving yours. “Client,” he added after a beat, but the pause was on purpose. His smirk deepened like he knew what he was doing to you. Your face went warm immediately. “Shut up,” you muttered, covering your smile with your hand. “I’m serious.” His tone was calm. “You don’t talk much, you don’t ask dumb questions, you never waste my time.” “Oh,” you said quietly. But your smile stayed. “So I’m convenient.” He leaned a little closer, voice dropping low. “Nah. You’re cute.” Your heart jumped. You didn’t know where to look. You didn’t know what to say. So you laughed—awkward and soft, trying to bury your face in your hands like that might cool your cheeks. You left a little later than usual that night.

Three days later, when your screen lit up with a text from him, you answered in less than a minute.

Weno

u free tonight?

wanna chill for a bit?

♡

You

yeah :)

same spot?

♡

Weno

pull up at 10

no rush

You tried not to read into it too much. But you still picked out a different hoodie this time, your favorite one, did a little extra on your make up, styled your hair in way you knew framed your face best. It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t anything. But your hands still felt warm as you walked out to meet him. His car was already there when you arrived. You climbed into the passenger seat, familiar now with the way the door stuck a little when you pulled it. Same playlist was on, and the heat was turned up just enough to make the inside feel cozy. He glanced over as you settled in, eyes flicking down to your mouth before meeting your gaze again. “Hey,” he said, voice smooth, quiet. “Hey,” you murmured back, smiling a little.

The next hour passed easily, like it always did when you were with him. You talked about nothing and everything, classes, music, random campus drama you weren’t even involved in, movies you both halfway remembered, the last weird dream you had. He laughed more than usual tonight, low and slow, eyes squinting a little when something you said caught him off guard. His hand rested on the steering wheel as he listened, thumb tapping the leather in a lazy rhythm. He made you feel comfortable, like whatever you had to say mattered even if it didn’t. Like he was listening just because it was you talking. At some point, he lit up. You were mid-sentence when he leaned forward to spark the lighter, the soft flick of it barely cutting into the music. He offered it to you once out of habit, holding the blunt out between two fingers, and this time you didn’t shake your head immediately. You hesitated. Then, before you could overthink it, you took it. Your fingers brushed his. His expression didn’t change, but something in his gaze lingered longer than before. “You sure?” he asked, voice soft, a little more serious now. You slowly nodded. “Yeah. Just—don’t laugh at me if I cough.” He smiled, “I won’t.” He leaned back into his seat. “Promise.” You inhaled, a small hit, like you’d seen him do a hundred times now. It burned, made your throat tickle, your eyes water just a little, but you didn’t cough. He watched carefully, still smiling. “Good girl,” he murmured.

Your chest tightened at the words, heat blooming under your skin before you could stop it. You handed it back to him quickly, trying to focus on the burn in your lungs, the soft thrum of bass in the background, anything except how warm you suddenly felt. Time got slower after that. An hour passed in a haze, soft laughter, lazy conversation, both of you sinking deeper into your seats, the windows fogging slightly. He smoked again, and passed it back and forth to you. Your body felt lighter. Music melted into the background, his voice a little rough now. You both stared out at the empty parking lot for a while, just existing. It was quiet in the way that felt close, not awkward. Every time your knee brushed his, he didn’t move. Every time you shifted, his eyes flicked toward your mouth, then back to the road like he didn’t want to get caught looking. And maybe it was the high, or the way the space between you had been shrinking since the start, but something changed. You turned to say something and caught him already looking at you, staring. His arm was still draped behind your seat, but now his fingers were brushing your shoulder, light and casual. You blinked at him. “What?” you whispered, voice lower than before. He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you for a long second, eyes warm, thoughtful. “C’mere.” You didn’t even think. You just leaned forward, heart thudding quietly behind your ribs as his hand slid slowly to the back of your neck. He tilted his head slightly. His lips brushed yours soft at first, testing. Then again, firmer. You leaned into it. Your heart stuttered, hands unsure of where to go. One found the edge of his hoodie. The other pressed lightly to his chest. His mouth moved against yours like he’d been thinking about this for a while. He wasn’t in any rush now that it was finally happening. You kissed him back slow, high and a little breathless, your skin buzzing all over. He pulled back eventually, just enough to look at you, eyes dark and steady.

“You’re high,” he said, almost teasing. “So are you,” you whispered. He smiled, gaze dropping to your lips again. “Yeah. But I still meant it.” You smiled, small and dazed, and tucked your legs under you again, curling back into your seat. The car was quiet for a few more minutes. Nothing changed. But everything had. And when you finally said you should go, he didn’t stop you. Just nodded, reached over, and opened the door for you like he always did. Before you stepped out, he caught your wrist gently. You turned back. His eyes searched yours for a moment. “Text me when you get in.” You nodded, “Okay.”

You

made it home :)

♡

Weno

good

was starting to think u got lost

♡

You

nope

just still thinking

♡

Weno

about?

♡

You

you

♡

Weno

yeah?

what part

♡

You

the obvious part

♡

Weno

mm

i liked that part too

didn’t rlly want u to go

♡

You

u didn’t?

♡

Weno

nah

wanted to kiss u again

♡

You

i wanted to too

but i got nervous :(

♡

Weno

it’s ok bby

will i see u again soon?

♡

You

yeah

if u want to

♡

Weno

i do

♡

You

can’t wait

goodnight weno :)

♡

Weno

me neither

gn <3

You didn’t stop thinking about that night. Or his texts. Or when he said he wanted to kiss you again. The way your heart stuttered when he called you bby like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it was already normal between you. It wasn’t, not really. But it was starting to be. You’d kept texting after that. Not every second of the day, but enough. Little check-ins, good mornings, music recs, late night questions that felt heavier than they sounded. He was never overly forward, not the type to blow up your phone or say things just to get a reaction, but everything he did say stuck with you. You were head over heels. Smiling at your phone and then burying your face in your pillow like an idiot every time. So when one of your friends mentioned the party coming up—some frat guy’s birthday, everyone was going, “you have to come, it’s gonna be huge”—you didn’t think much of it at first. Until she added, casually, “Pretty sure Weno’s gonna be there too, so you can’t get us some stuff as well?” That made your heart skip. You played it off, said “yeah, cool” and shrugged, but your brain had already started spiraling. What if you saw him? What if you didn’t? What if he ignored you in front of everyone? What if he didn’t? You told yourself you weren’t going for him. But you still stood in front of your closet longer than usual. You picked a dress—short, tight, something you hadn’t worn before. Simple, but it hugged you in all the right places. You did your makeup with more care than usual, spritzed perfume on your neck, your wrists, let your hair fall soft and full around your shoulders. You didn’t tell anyone why you looked a little extra tonight. But you kind of hoped he’d be there. And you really hoped he’d notice.

The house was already packed by the time you got there—music thumping through the walls, bodies crammed together in every corner, red cups in almost every hand. Lights low, flashing sometimes, music echoing through a speaker in the living room. It smelled like sweat, beer, weed, and cheap cologne. Typical. Your friends disappeared as soon as you walked in, squealing at someone they recognized near the kitchen. You stayed back for a second, just long enough to scan the crowd. Not because you were looking for anyone. Not on purpose, anyway. And then you saw Weno. Leaning against the far wall near the stairs, hoodie half-zipped over a white tank, cargo pants hanging low on his hips, the hem of his boxers peeking a little. He wasn’t dancing. Wasn’t talking loud or laughing or drinking like the rest of them. Just standing there, calm and unreadable, eyes lazily moving through the room like he’d been here a hundred times before. He was talking to someone, dapping them up quick, pulling something from his pocket and handing it off like it was nothing. No one looked twice. Just a quiet exchange, over in seconds. He didn’t try to be subtle, he didn’t have to. People came to him. You stayed near the edge of the crowd, drink in hand, pretending to be more focused on your friends than you were. But your eyes kept drifting back. He looked good. Effortlessly good. And he hadn’t seen you yet. You tried not to look over too often. Tried to focus on your friends and their chaotic conversations, the loud music, the colorful lights. You laughed at jokes that didn’t really register. Nodded along. Sipped water from your cup and told yourself it wasn’t that serious. He wasn’t even talking to you. He was doing his own thing. Still, your gaze kept drifting. Just to see if he was still there. Still. Every time you checked, he was. Some minutes passed like that—just you pretending to be more chill than you felt while your friends chattered and moved toward the crowd. You stayed behind, needing a second to breathe. You slipped into the kitchen, mostly empty now, except for the quiet hum of the fridge and the faint bass vibrating through the floor. You reached for the fridge handle, intent on just grabbing some cold water and hiding out for a bit, but when you turned, he was already there. Standing just inside the doorway. Watching. Your breath caught.

He didn’t say anything at first. His eyes scanned you slowly—top to bottom, unhurried. You felt it like a heatwave, settling low in your stomach. His gaze was darker than usual. Focused, sharp. You dropped your eyes immediately, trying not to fidget. Tugged lightly on the hem of your dress like it might help somehow, like maybe it covered more than it did. You felt your cheeks flush without him even having to speak. You weren’t even sure why you were so nervous. You’d seen him like this before, but something about tonight made it worse. Made you bite your lip without thinking. Made your cheeks burn just from the way he looked at you. “Didn’t know you’d be here,” he said, voice calm and even. A little rough from the smoke, but still warm. You glanced up, heart racing. “Yeah,” you said, “Wasn’t really planning to, but… my friends dragged me.” He smiled a little. “I’m glad you came.” Your breath hitched. You weren’t expecting that. “You look good tonight.” It landed heavy in your chest. No teasing. No smirk. Just him saying it like it was a fact. Your whole body flushed. “Oh,” you said, voice small. “Um. Thanks.” He nodded once, eyes still on you, and then glanced back toward the hallway. “I’m heading up to the balcony for a bit. If you wanna get some air.” He didn’t wait for an answer. Just gave you one last look—soft, lingering—and pushed off the doorframe to leave. “Come find me,” he said, and then he was gone. Leaving you standing in the kitchen, heart racing, lip caught between your teeth, wondering how the hell he always made you feel like this without even trying.

You lingered in the kitchen for a while after he left, pretending to scroll through your phone, half-listening to the party still pulsing through the walls. Your friends had fully disappeared into the crowd by now, probably dancing or taking shots or screaming over music. You told yourself you were just cooling off. Just getting a break from the noise. But you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d looked at you. The way he said it—You look good tonight. Like it wasn’t up for debate. Like he meant it, and he knew you’d heard him loud and clear. Eventually, you texted some excuse about needing air, said you’d be right back if anyone even cared that you left. You slipped out of the kitchen and made your way upstairs, heartbeat loud in your ears, feeling a little ridiculous and a lot nervous. The hallway was quiet, just some closed doors and the muffled hum of bass below. You found the door to the balcony slightly cracked open, soft breeze pushing in from the night. You pushed it open gently. There he was. He sat on a low, beat-up couch tucked against the wall. One leg stretched out, the other bent, arm thrown over the backrest like he owned the space. Head tilted back just slightly, hoodie slipping off his shoulder, lips parted around the blunt as he took a slow drag. The ember glowed red in the dark, lighting up the sharp cut of his jaw, the curve of his mouth. He looked unfairly good. Like the air belonged to him. Like nothing touched him. He turned his head lazily when he heard the door, eyes finding yours through the smoke. Didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything for a second. Just looked at you, then took another slow hit, exhaling with a quiet sigh before speaking.

“Knew you’d come.” You swallowed hard, heart kicking up again like you hadn’t already spent the last fifteen minutes trying to calm it down. His voice was low, almost lazy, but there was something behind it—something that made your chest tighten a little. You stepped out and quietly shut the door behind you. You sat down beside him, slow and careful, the cushion dipping under your weight. His knee brushed yours just slightly, warm through the fabric. You glanced over, then down again, chewing the inside of your cheek. “I just—I’d rather be up here with you than down there in all that chaos.” That got him to finally look at you. Head tilted slightly, eyes narrowed just a little like he was trying to read deeper than what you were saying out loud. He didn’t answer right away. Just flicked the ash from the blunt, leaned back again, eyes still on you. You breathed in through your nose, steadying yourself. Then softer, barely louder than the wind, you added, “I missed you.” He turned his head fully now, letting the blunt rest between his fingers. The pause that followed wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Warm. His eyes softened just a bit. “Yeah?” he said, voice a little quieter than before. “I missed you too.” It landed in your chest like a weight—like the kind of thing you weren’t sure you were allowed to want, but did anyway. He leaned in a little, not close enough to crowd you, but just enough for his knee to press softly into yours. His eyes didn’t leave your face.

“You been thinking about me?” he asked, voice still calm, but something about it made your stomach twist. You blinked. Heat rushed to your cheeks again, and you had to look away. “…Maybe.” He smiled at that, small and crooked and unfairly attractive. “Same.” And then he took another hit like he hadn’t just wrecked you with a single word. He let the silence hang for a few seconds after that, the blunt burning slow between his fingers, and then he said it quietly, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Come closer.” Your eyes flicked to his, heart stuttering a little. He didn’t look away, didn’t shift or make room, just waited. You hesitated for a second and then moved, scooting over until your leg was pressed fully against his. He reached out casually, like it was second nature, and slid his arm around your shoulders. A soft tug, and suddenly you were leaning into him, your head falling against his chest like it belonged there. You could feel everything. His warmth, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the steady thump of his heart under your cheek. His hoodie smelled like smoke and laundry and him. He brought the blunt to his lips again, took a hit, then lowered it and turned his head slightly toward you.“Want some?” he murmured. You shook your head, just once. “Not right now.” He hummed, didn’t push. Just let his hand stay where it was on your shoulder, thumb brushing idly against your arm. You didn’t say anything after that. Neither did he. You both just sat there, pressed together on the old balcony couch, the party a muffled storm below you, the stars wide and scattered above. You listened to the wind. The soft scratch of fabric when he shifted. The occasional drag and exhale as he smoked. You closed your eyes for a second and just let yourself feel all of it.

He shifted a little, moving his hand lower on your arm, caressing the skin, his breath warm against your hair. You felt his heartbeat quicken just a bit beneath your cheek. The silence between you was thick. to be noticed. You glanced up at him, your eyes catching his in the dim light. There was something softer there now. Something unspoken, but heavy. Without breaking eye contact, his hand moved to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering near your temple. Your breath hitched. He leaned down just a little, voice low and casual, “You’re beautiful.” You swallowed, barely able to meet his gaze as your face flushed again. Then, just like that, he closed the tiny gap between you. His lips found yours slow and gentle, before deepening the kiss, like he’d been wanting to do this all night. You melted into him, your hand slowly reaching up to rest on his chest as the world around you faded. It’s not gentle anymore, it’s urgent, needy. His hand tightens in your hair, pulling you closer as his tongue slides against yours, deep and demanding. You whimper softly, the sound lost in the press of his mouth, your body melting into his. He pulls back just enough to whisper in your ear, voice husky, “Wanna get out of here? I’ve got my car nearby.” Your heart pounds so hard you’re sure he can hear it. You just nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, breath catching again as he wraps his arm tighter around you.

He doesn’t rush you, just laces his fingers through yours, warm and firm, and gives your hand a gentle tug. You follow without thinking, legs shaky as you leave the balcony behind and slip back into the quiet hallway. The party feels distant now, like the world narrowed down to just him, the weight of his hand in yours, the aftertaste of his kiss still lingering on your lips. The walk to his car is quiet, but not awkward. When he unlocks the door and slides into the driver’s seat, you hesitate for half a second before slipping in beside him. The doors shut with a soft thud, sealing you both inside the low, warm hum of the vehicle. He leans back, legs stretched out, calm like always, but there’s a heat behind his eyes when he looks at you. A spark still flickering from earlier. “I’m gonna roll real quick,” he murmurs, pulling out his tray and grinder from the center console like it’s second nature. You nod, watching him work—his fingers nimble, methodical, the lighter’s flame briefly illuminating his face when he brings the blunt to his lips. The car fills with the earthy scent of smoke, and his head tilts back slightly as he exhales, half-lidded. He looks so fucking fine like this, bathed in shadows and smoke, hoodie loose around his collarbones, the faint red glow of the blunt lighting up his lips. Then he turns his head toward you again and you don’t even get the chance to fully catch your breath before he leans in again, free hand finding your cheek as he kisses you.

The smoke still lingers on his breath, and you melt into it, moaning softly into his mouth as his tongue slides against yours. His fingers are on your thigh, squeezing gently as he pulls you closer. The kiss turns messier, full of need, soft gasps and low groans echoing through the car. Your hand grips his hoodie low, holding on like you might fall apart if you let go. He pulls back only enough to whisper, breath ghosting over your lips, “Could do this all night.” Then his mouth is on yours again. More heat, more tongue, more breathless little noises spilling from your lips as your body starts to tremble in his hands. Without breaking the kiss, his hands move, one sliding up your thigh, the other settling on your waist. “C’mere,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice low but soft. You barely register what he means until his hands are guiding you, pulling you gently, firmly, right onto his lap. One leg at a time, knees sinking into the seat on either side of him, hands braced on his shoulders, your dress hiking up as you settle onto him, straddling him, face to face. He leans back just enough to look at you, eyes hooded, red from the weed, blunt still between his fingers. One of his hands slides up your side, fingers grazing your waist and ribs over the thin fabric of your dress. He takes his time with it, like he’s learning your shape. Your breath stutters as his hand travels higher, stopping just under your arm. He brings the blunt to his lips again, takes a long, slow hit, his chest rising beneath you, and then leans in close. His free hand curves around the back of your neck, guiding your face closer to his. You part your lips on instinct, and he exhales the smoke right into your mouth, warm and slow, curling over your tongue. Your eyes flutter shut as you breathe it in, heart thudding, and then he kisses you. Kisses you like he’s taking the air right back from your lungs.

Your breath catches when you feel his hands slide down, beneath the hem of your dress. He pushes it up slowly, bunching the fabric around your waist until the cool air hits your thighs. You shift slightly, nervous, thighs tightening around his hips as he exposes more of you. He doesn’t say anything, just stares for a second, eyes flicking down to where your panties are now visible, his palms firm on the back of your thighs. “Fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself. Then he leans forward, mouth finding your neck, and everything gets messier after that. He kisses down the side of your throat, open, warm, wet, his lips dragging along the skin, tongue flicking against your pulse point, teeth grazing just enough to make your hips twitch against him. You whimper quietly, trying to stay still, but he’s already pulling you closer with both hands, guiding your body into his like he knows exactly what you need. You tilt your head for him without thinking, shy sounds escaping your mouth as he works his way up to your jaw, then down again, kissing a little rougher now. “Weno…” you whisper, voice breaking around his name. “Shh,” he murmurs, his voice low against your skin. “You’re okay.” Your arms wrap around his shoulders instinctively, face burning as you shift in his lap, unintentionally grinding down just slightly. His reaction is immediate, a quiet groan right into your neck, his hands tightening on your hips. “Just like that,” he breathes.

Your hips grind down harder without thinking, breath coming out in shaky gasps as the friction starts to feel almost too good. His hands slip under the back of your dress, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass, guiding your movement like he needs it just as bad. You’re whimpering into the heated space between you, clinging to his hoodie, your body trembling slightly with every slow drag of your hips over his. Your panties are soaked. His pants are straining. The windows are fogging up, and the whole car smells like weed, sweat, and heat. He tilts his head, catching your mouth again in another deep, tongue-heavy kiss, like he can’t stop tasting you. His hand slides up your waist, grazing under the curve of your chest over the thin fabric of your dress, and you shudder, moaning softly into his mouth. Then he pulls back, just a little, resting his forehead against yours as both of you try to breathe. “Fuck,” he whispers, chest rising and falling beneath you. “You look so fucking pretty like this.” You blink at him, dazed, lips swollen and barely parted, still trying to catch your breath. He looks at you for a long second, hands still on your waist, grounding you. “I don’t wanna do this in the car,” he says, voice rough. “You deserve better than that.” Your breath hitches, heat flaring even higher at how serious he sounds. “Wanna go to my place?” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your side. You nod slowly, shy but needy, your fingers curling in the collar of his shirt, a little scared to let go. “Yeah,” you whisper, barely audible. “Okay.” He kisses you once more, soft and sweet, before pulling back just enough to reach for the keys.

The door shut with a quiet click, sealing you into the warmth of his place. It was dark, mostly, just the glow of a streetlamp slipping through the blinds, casting faint lines across the floor. Neither of you spoke. You turned slightly, lips parting like you might say something, but he was already reaching for you. His hands found your waist in the dark, pulling you in with no hesitation, and his mouth was on yours before you could even breathe. Kissing you hungrily, deep and needy. Everything he hadn’t said tonight was pouring out of him all at once, into the way he held you, the way his lips moved over yours. His grip was firm, hands splayed over your hips, your back arching into him as you kissed him back just as desperately. He walked you backwards without breaking the kiss, slow, steady steps through the short hallway, lips never leaving yours. You barely registered the corners of the space or how you ended up where you did until the back of your knees hit something soft. And then he was lowering you onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath you, and your breath caught as he hovered above you, eyes dark and steady on yours. Then, without a word, he zipped down his hoodie and took it off. Now just in a white tank, it clung to his frame in all the right places, the cut of his collarbone visible, shoulders broad and sharp under the light. He looked down at you for a second longer, breathing hard, gaze lingering on your face like he couldn’t believe you were really there. Then he leaned down, kissing you again, less rushed, but just as intense. His hands slid up your sides, fingertips ghosting over the fabric of your dress, moving deliberately, memorizing the shape of you. You whimpered softly into his mouth, fingers curling in the hem of his shirt. He pulled back for a second, eyes flicking between yours, voice low and wrecked. “You good?” he asked, forehead brushing yours. You nodded, cheeks burning, lips swollen already. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m good.”

He didn’t wait long after your answer. His mouth moved to your neck, warm and open, lips brushing your skin before he started kissing, slow, deliberate, dragging his tongue gently along the curve of your throat. You gasped, breath hitching as he sucked softly at a spot just below your jaw. Then again, a little lower. Your hips twitched beneath him when you felt his teeth graze you. “Weno—” you whispered, but it came out as more of a breath than a word. “You’re so pretty” he murmured, voice barely there, like he was talking to himself. “Always are.” His hand moved down slowly, slipping over your waist and along the outside of your thigh before sliding back up under the hem of your dress. His touch was patient, teasing, he didn’t rush. Just let his fingertips brush along the top of your thigh, higher and higher until they were tracing the edge of your panties. He pushed the fabric of your underwear to the side, slowly, and let his fingers slide between your folds, touching your bare heat. You gasped, head tilting back into the pillow, lips parting in a silent moan. “Shit,” he whispered, breath warm against your collarbone. “So soaked f’me, baby.” Your cheeks burned, thighs tensing slightly around his hand. He kissed the hollow of your throat, then lower, just above your chest, tongue wet and warm as his fingers began to move—slow circles at first, barely-there pressure that made you squirm beneath him. His free hand gripped your waist, holding you steady like he could feel how close you already were, how much you wanted him. “You’re so sensitive,” he muttered, voice deep and low, teeth grazing your skin as he kissed up to your ear.

You whimpered his name, hips grinding into his hand without meaning to. His fingers never stopped moving, dragging slick circles against your clit as he kept his mouth on your neck. Every kiss felt more urgent, but not rushed. It wasn’t just lust. It was something else. Something heavier. And then he leaned up, lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think about you all the time,” he murmured, breath warm, fingers still teasing between your thighs. “Even when I’m not supposed to. Even when I try not to.” Your heart flipped, aching at how raw it sounded coming from him. “I don’t even think you know what you do to me,” he continued, a soft kiss behind your ear. “How long I’ve wanted you like this. Letting me touch you.” The words hit harder than anything else had—deeper than the kisses, deeper than his touch. Your chest tightened, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers slid into his hair, pulling him down until your lips met again. Your moans melted into his mouth, the rhythm of his fingers picking up as your hips rolled up into his hand. His other hand gripped your thigh, spreading you wider for him.

And then, without warning, he shifted his hand lower, deeper. Your lips parted in a quiet gasp as he slid one finger inside you, slow and careful. Your walls clenched around the intrusion, already aching from how worked up you were, how long he’d been teasing. He didn’t wait long before easing in a second finger, stretching you just a little more. His movements were smooth, curling them up inside you just right, drawing out whiny, breathless little sounds from your throat you couldn’t hold back. You buried your face in his shoulder, hands gripping his bicep, your hips rocking involuntarily into every slow thrust of his fingers. He moved deep and steady, his palm pressing into you, thumb dragging lazy circles over your clit in rhythm. He kept moving inside you, slow and deep, curling just right. You were so close, the tension winding tighter and tighter in your stomach, breath catching with every stroke. But just as your legs began to shake, just as your hips bucked up into his hand with a quiet, desperate moan—he pulled out. You whined at the loss, hips stuttering forward instinctively, chasing the friction. “Weno…” “I know,” he murmured, breathless himself, voice thick with need. “I know, baby.” He leaned back just enough to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere to the side. The soft light coming through the cracked door hit his chest just right—shoulders broad, abs toned, skin flushed and warm. His chain shifted against his skin when he moved.

Then he was reaching for you again, hands gentle. “Can I?” he asked, fingers brushing the hem of your dress. You nodded, cheeks hot, eyes wide and dazed. “Y-Yeah” He pulled it up slowly, lifting it over your head. His eyes dropped to your body as it was revealed to him—bare chest, soft skin, rising and falling with every shaky breath. He leaned his mouth to your nipple, giving it a soft suck while sliding your panties down your legs, dragging his hands along your thighs as he did. Then he moved lower. He settled between your legs like he belonged there, hands spreading your thighs gently, thumbs brushing along the inside. You whimpered, body already arching at the sight of him down there, the feel of his breath ghosting over your skin. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, more to himself than anything, eyes locked on your soaked center. And then he leaned in. His tongue was warm, slow, one long, deliberate lick up your folds that made your back arch off the bed. Then again, this time with more pressure, more intent. His mouth locked over your clit, sucking softly before he flattened his tongue and circled it. You gasped, hands flying to his hair, fingers tangling as your thighs tried to close around his head. He just groaned into you, gripping your hips and pulling you closer, keeping you wide open for him. The sounds—wet, messy, sinful—filled the room along with your breathy moans, soft whimpers, the quiet creak of the mattress beneath you.

He didn’t stop. His tongue moved with purpose, lapping, circling, flicking. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but moan, soft and desperate, your hips twitching with every stroke of his tongue. And then you felt his hand again. Sliding up the inside of your thigh, fingers trailing through your slick folds before one dipped inside you, curling instantly. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry. He added a second immediately, stretching you and pumping into you while his mouth never left your clit. “Weno—fuck,” you whimpered, body jolting as he curled his fingers just right. Your walls clenched around him, needy and tight. His groan vibrated through you when he felt it. His tongue pressed harder, fingers pumping deep and slow—each drag of his knuckles making your toes curl. Your moans got higher, breathier, as your body trembled under his touch. “You close, baby?” he muttered against your clit, fingers never slowing. “Wanna feel you cum on my fuckin’ fingers.” You nodded, frantic, too far gone to speak. Your back arched, thighs shaking as he held you open, ruined you with his mouth, pushed his fingers deep inside you until the heat building in your stomach finally snapped. You came hard, legs trembling, hips stuttering, a loud moan spilling from your lips as everything clenched and pulsed around him. Fingers still working you gently through it while his tongue slowed, easing the intensity but never leaving you empty. Weno pressed one last kiss to your thigh, lips lingering as he pulled his fingers from you slowly, savoring the way your body jolted at the loss. He sat back on his heels, chest rising and falling a little faster now, eyes heavy as they dragged up your body.

You watched, dazed, flushed, and breathless as he reached for the waistband of his cargos, unbuttoning and sliding them down. They hit the floor with a quiet thud, leaving him in just his boxers—black, stretched tight over the obvious bulge straining against the fabric. He palmed it slowly, eyes still fixed on you, thumb pressing down over the thick outline like it ached. You squirmed beneath him, breath catching again when he leaned forward, caging you in with his arms. He kissed you slow and deep, tongue sliding over yours, moaning into your mouth. Then he reached between you and pushed his boxers down just enough to free himself, hissing softly when his length sprang free and brushed against your thigh. “You still good?” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours, his thumb caressing your cheek. You nodded, voice caught in your throat. “Yeah… I want you.” That was all he needed. He reached down, guiding himself to your entrance, dragging the tip through your slick folds, teasing you both with the heat of it. His hand found your waist again, grounding you as he pushed in slowly—inch by inch, thick and hot and stretching you just right. You gasped, nails digging into his biceps, body arching as he filled you completely.“Fuck,” he breathed out against your mouth, kissing you again as he bottomed out. “So tight. So good.” He didn’t move right away. Just stayed there, buried deep, letting you adjust while he pressed soft kisses to your jaw, your cheek, your lips. His hands smoothed over your sides, grounding you. And then he started to move.

He started slow and deep, rolling thrusts that dragged every inch of him along your walls. Your body clung to him, welcoming each stroke like it had been waiting, aching, for this exact moment. His hands moved down your sides, palms warm and firm, before sliding under your thighs to hitch your legs higher around his waist. The new angle made you gasp, your head falling back into the pillow as he sank even deeper. “That’s it,” he whispered, voice all breath and gravel, “So fucking perfect like this.” You whimpered, lips parting with every slow rock of his hips, every soft press of his chest to yours. One of his hands slipped under your back, pulling you closer, the other traveling to cup your breast, squeezing gently, thumb circling your nipple. “Love your body,” he murmured against your skin, lips brushing your collarbone. “Every inch. All mine now, yeah?” You could only nod, breath shaky, heart pounding. He moved again—long, deep thrusts that made your thighs tremble around him, that had you clinging tighter to his shoulders, trying to ground yourself in his touch. “So fuckin’ good,” he groaned, kissing your neck, “Fuck—look at how you take me.” He slid his hand down to your ass, gripping it tightly, pulling you up into each thrust, letting you feel just how hard he was holding back. You cried out softly, tears blurring your vision as the heat coiled tighter and tighter inside you. You felt stretched, full…loved. Every part of him was on you, in you, his lips, his hands, his voice. He slowed for just a second, chest heaving as he looked down at you.

His hand cradled your jaw, thumb brushing your lip as he whispered, “No one’s ever made me feel like this.” You blinked, another tear slipping free. He caught it with a kiss. He pushed in deep again, groaning low as your body clenched around him. Your eyes fluttered shut as your lips parted in a sob, overwhelmed. The pleasure, the emotion—it was too much, and not enough. You gasped out his name, voice broken, tears spilling freely now. “You’re doin’ so good,” he breathed, kissing the corner of your mouth. “So good for me. You feel so fuckin’ good—can’t get enough of you, baby.” He cupped your breast again, his other hand squeezing your ass as he rocked deeper, firmer, filling you completely with every thrust. The mattress creaked beneath you, skin slapping, breathy moans and whimpers. He lift your legs higher, folding them up toward your chest as his hands slid beneath your knees, guiding you open. His body shifted with yours, hovering close, his chest pressing to yours as he settled into the new position. You were utterly vulnerable, and so full. “Fuck,” he breathed as he pushed back in—deeper, impossibly deep, the new angle hitting something inside you that made your mouth fall open in a silent gasp. Your thighs trembled against his sides, your arms wrapping tight around his shoulders as he rocked into you again, slow and hard. His face was right above yours, eyes dark, mouth parted, breath hot on your cheek. His forehead pressed to yours. You pulled him down, fingers tangling in his hair, and kissed him hard, messy, open-mouthed, desperate. You sobbed into the kiss, the pleasure blurring everything, making your whole body feel like it was about to break apart in the best way.

He moaned against your mouth, thrusts picking up just slightly, deeper and deeper, hips pressing you into the mattress. One of his hands cradled your cheek as the other gripped under your thigh, holding you open for him while his body kept driving into yours, filling you perfectly. “You feel like heaven,” he whispered, kissing along your jaw between gasps. “So good for me, baby… fuck.” Your body clenched tight around him, your moans turning into cries as your nails dug into his back. “Weno— I’m close, I—please,” you gasped, barely able to form the words through the sobs that kept catching in your throat. “I got you,” he panted, hips grinding down, pace relentless now. “Cum for me, baby. Wanna feel you.” It only took another stroke. One more hit just right, and you shattered. Your second orgasm came, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your back arched, tears slipping down your cheeks as you sobbed his name, legs shaking violently around him. You clung to him like he was the only thing tethering you to earth. “Shit—baby—fuck—” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut as your body pulsed around him. “So good. So fucking good.” He barely lasted another few thrusts before he was pulling out quickly, stroking himself through the last moments, his body jerking forward with a final moan as he spilled across your stomach, thick and warm. He collapsed onto his forearms above you, forehead to yours again, breath ragged, lips ghosting yours.

He was still above you, body trembling slightly as he caught his breath, his lips brushing yours in soft, lingering kisses that felt more like confessions than touches. You were trying to breathe too, heart racing, chest rising and falling as your mind spun. Every nerve in your body was still alive, aching with how full he made you feel—physically, emotionally, all of it. And yet, even in the quiet after, something heavy sat in your chest. You swallowed hard, fingers fidgeting at his sides, your eyes darting everywhere but his face. You could feel it pressing against your tongue—those words—so big and so terrifying, but so real. Too real to keep inside. “Weno…?” you whispered, voice barely audible. He blinked down at you, soft and hazy from the afterglow. “Yeah, baby?” Your lip trembled as you looked up at him, wide-eyed and afraid. “I… I think I’m in love with you.” The second the words left your mouth, your stomach dropped. You felt exposed, like you’d stripped yourself bare in a whole new way. Your eyes filled with panic—what if he didn’t feel the same? What if this ruined everything? “I—I’m sorry,” you added quickly, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to ruin it, I just—fuck, I don’t know, I just feel so much and I couldn’t keep it in and—” He cut you off with a kiss. Not a soft one, not a careful one, but deep, sure. His hand cupped your face as he leaned into you, kissing you like he needed to feel every word you’d just said on his tongue.

When he finally pulled back, his thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching the little tear that had escaped down your cheek. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he whispered. “You could never ruin anything.” Your heart fluttered painfully. “I’ve been in love with you,” he said, voice a little hoarse. “Since before I even knew what to call it. You don’t scare me, baby. You’re the only thing that’s ever made sense.” He kissed you again, tender. His hands wrapped around you, pulling you close until your body was pressed to his, skin to skin, and you could barely breathe from how tight he held you. You buried your face in his neck, arms tucked between your chests, your heart pounding against his. The silence that followed was heavy with warmth—safe, soft. Eventually, he shifted just enough to reach for the blunt on his nightstand, lighting it with a quiet flick of his lighter. The glow lit up his face in soft orange as he took a long drag, exhaling with a sigh, head tilted back slightly. You curled into him, cheek pressed to his chest, ear catching the steady thrum of his heartbeat. His arm came around you instinctively, holding you tighter, and his hand drifted lazily into your hair, fingers combing through the strands. You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to. He held you like he was never letting go.

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