#why can’t i just be better and smarter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wildernessuntothemselves · 5 months

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy... | Final Part

A/N: this is the main ending. there is an alternative ending available for the other boy on patreon. the link for which is found at the end of this chapter.

Word count: 13k

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, mostly dom!reader, face-sitting, PIV sex, dirty talk, creampie, handjob, heartbreak.

“Hey, baby.” You greet Yeonjun, giving him a kiss on the lips. “Ready to go?”

You were picking him up to go home after a long day of work for the both of you. You had in mind a night of drinking wine and complaining about your day until you passed out in his arms and you can’t wait to get home already.

“Just a little longer, doll.” He tells you and you immediately start whining. “Junnie… those two bottles of wine I bought aren’t gonna drink themselves. We gotta get cracking.”

He chuckles tiredly. “While I appreciate your efforts to get me drunk, Beomgyu has composed a new song and I need to stay back to hear it.”

“Oh.” It’s still so weird to you how you now have to hear news about what your best friend is up to from other people. You used to know these things first. If this was a few months ago, you’d have already heard the song before anyone else did. But now you’re lucky if you even get to hear it at all.

But that’s for the best. You’re doing good with Yeonjun. You’re doing good without Beomgyu. You’re breathing. You’re eating. Your heart is beating… maybe even for someone else for a change. It may have been excruciatingly painful at first–forcing yourself to step away from him, not seeking him out to try to make things better after your most recent fallout, not jumping at the chance when he reached out himself, pretending like you’re too busy to see him, making up excuses so you won’t be alone with him, building up your walls so maybe one day you can stand in a room with him and not have to hold back every cell of your body from throwing yourself at his feet and begging him to love you, but you’ve gotten a lot better at it.

“Do you wanna listen to it?” Yeonjun asks when he sees your curiosity, but you hesitate. Should you? Maybe you should just wait in the car…

But when you see Beomgyu come out with his acoustic guitar and set it on his lap, you find yourself nodding and grabbing a seat next to Yeonjun. You miss hearing him sing. You miss being privy to his passions and whims. Maybe it's selfish of you to allow yourself the opportunity to witness more of him than you’re willing to give him but you never claimed to not be selfish.

As if Beomgyu shares your thoughts, he glances at you, hesitating for a second and you can see the thoughts flitting behind his pretty eyes–you know him too well. Is he thinking about kicking you out? Does he not want you to hear the song because you’ve been keeping your distance from him?

Eventually though he looks down at his guitar and starts to play, and as soon as the first words leave his lips, your heart drops.

Oh, I’m falling in love

As time goes by

As my feelings grow

I’m becoming more anxious

How deep is your love?

I want to ask

Couldn’t it be the same if not deeper?

Your heart lurches in your chest at the lyrics. Falling in love? Is Beomgyu falling in love with Haeun? You know you have no right to feel hurt by this but you do. Why couldn’t he have loved you? What does he see in her that you couldn’t have given him? Is she prettier than you? Smarter? Kinder? Funnier? What was it that made you fall short of deserving his love?

Seeing you change little by little

I’m afraid I’ll lose you

Not mine

My one minute, one second

Take them all

All my time is yours

Why?

Why have you changed?

Why are you so far away from me?

Now we are at different paths.

It hurts even more that it seems she’s not reciprocating his feelings. She has everything you want and she doesn’t even want it. He’s willing to give her everything but it seems it’s not enough for her. Oh how cruelly ironic.

She seemed to be very into him before, at least after the band got more popular, and with every increase in their popularity, she attached herself to him more and more, but something must’ve gone wrong along the line. You have known for some time that Beomgyu and Haeun have been having relationship troubles but you don’t know exactly what because Beomgyu hasn’t told anyone but you guess it’s really bad if this song is about them.

Is she in love with someone else? Has she lost interest? How could she do it so easily when it’s taking everything in you to do the same. Can she tell you her secret so you can stop suffering and give your heart completely to the man who actually wants it?

How can I go back

To our beginning

When we were looking at the same place

The when we had the same heart

I hope you don’t know it

This feeling

Even though I love you

I still feel alone

He’s hiding it from her, afraid to reveal his feelings–maybe because he thinks she doesn’t feel the same way, that if he reveals them she’ll reject him. You know that feeling all too well. You wish you could protect him from it even if he was the cause of your own similar pain.

As the chorus repeats, you become even more sure that the song is about him. You can hear the anguish so clearly in his voice. Beomgyu has always been so talented, always able to give his all to the song and live it as if it’s his own, but you know him too well. You know this is real pain.

I’m drowning in you

Don’t leave me like this

As the bridge reaches its climax, your body shakes, wanting to lunge forward and take him into your arms, to save him from himself even if it would tear you to pieces. But you can’t. You don’t have the right to anymore. All you can do is sit there and wait for him to finish his song, wait for the boys to discuss it as if it’s not his heart being laid out in the open to be dissected.

“What do you think?” He asks once the song is over, biting the skin of his finger, a nervous habit you’ve always quietly found adorable. You would always grab his hand and kiss the poor finger better, scolding him for hurting himself, but secretly you loved it. You loved having his hand in yours. You loved having an excuse to press your lips against him. And you loved the smile he would always give you in response.

“It’s really good." Kai says, impressed. "Didn’t know that someone as emotionally stunted as you could come up with such a moving song."

"Fuck off." Beomgyu mutters, not in the mood for jokes, obviously nervous to see what the others think.

“Yeah, I like it too. You said you’re thinking of having violins in the opening?” Taehyun asks, picking up a music sheet.

Beomgyu nods. “Yeah. I know we’ve never done that before but I feel like it would really add to the atmosphere of the song.”

"I think it could be fun." Taehyun hums, turning to Soobin. “What do you think?”

"I agree. It's good to experiment a bit while still maintaining our sound which I think this song does really well. It could expose us to more people while still not alienating our existing fanbase.” He praises and Beomgyu smiles, relieved at his song being so well-received by the other members. “I especially like the bridge part. I think once Yeonjun sings it, it would really elevate the song.”

Beomgyu's face falls at that but he quickly covers it up. You furrow your eyebrows. That can't feel good, being compared negatively with Yeonjun, even if Soobin didn't mean it like that.

You look at Yeonjun, who hadn't said a word so far. He was staring at Beomgyu weirdly. Did he not like the song?

You nudge him, giving him a questioning look and he just shakes his head, smiling at you before saying, "I like it. Good job, man."

Beomgyu gives him a tense smile in response, and the group falls into an awkward silence for a few seconds–a weird tension hanging in the air, before Soobin clears his throat and begins discussing how they'll play the song, what parts could be improved and who will get which part. You don’t really listen anymore, just looking between Yeonjun and Beomgyu.

Your boyfriend seems to have gotten over his weird reaction, now focused on the technicalities. Beomgyu is focused too but he doesn’t look as enthusiastic as you expected him to be–as you'd seen him get when talking about his songs before–and it's more proof to you that this is a very personal song to him.

As the boys finally break up after a while, most of them going their separate ways to pack up their stuff and get ready to leave, your boyfriend stays behind with Soobin, still discussing something with him. That’s when you spot Beomgyu alone, putting his guitar in its case, and you take the opportunity to go talk to him, unable to hold yourself back this time.

“Hey, Beomgyu, that song was really good.” You start by saying, wanting to congratulate him on a really good song but also needing an opener. But Beomgyu doesn’t say anything in response, simply giving you a blank look–which fucking hurt but you guess you deserve it–so you continue lamely, trying to get him to respond. “You’re really talented. I don’t think you’re gonna need to moonlight as a stripper anymore.” You try to joke but again he doesn’t really say anything, turning his attention back to his guitar bag which he zips up.

“Umm… Beomgyu, that song… is it about you?” You bite the bullet, and he finally gives you some sort of response, albeit nonverbal. He looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. “Is it about you and Haeun?”

“What?” He frowns and you explain yourself nervously, hoping you weren’t overstepping boundaries that have sprung up in your absence. “Well, the song is about a guy who loves someone who doesn’t feel the same about him and how she’s changing and being distant… is that what’s happening with Haeun?”

He sighs. “Maybe. So what?”

You wince at his callousness, like he doesn’t have time for you. You suppose you brought it on yourself with the way you've been avoiding him. Still you ignore it, determined to tell him what you think anyway. “Well, if it is, you should tell her. Tell her how you feel, she might feel the same way and you don’t even know. You might both be pulling away when all you want is to be with each other.” Yes, you know how hypocritical it is of you to say that but you can’t imagine a world in which anyone would reject Beomgyu’s love. “If you love her then you should tell her, right?”

He snorts. “What do you even know about how I feel? Do you have any idea about the amount of hurt and self-loathing it would cause me if she doesn’t feel the same way? How it would ruin our relationship if she’s not where I am?”

“I know.” You grit down on that same pain. “I know.”

He pauses, his anger burning out as soon as it ignites. Then he asks quietly, “Yeonjun?”

You press down on your lips. You know if you say no then he might figure it out. He might finally discover your wretched secret, so you smile and nod, fully knowing how hypocritical you are being right now. You’re such a fucking coward, you disgust even yourself.

“Right.” He is quiet for a minute, and the atmosphere is charged with weird, unreadable emotions that buzz in your ear and form sparks over your skin. You almost excuse yourself–not really wanting to leave despite how uncomfortable it is but knowing you should. You’ve said what you wanted to say. There is no good reason for you to linger around any longer.

But then Beomgyu speaks again. "Are you happy?"

You pause, frowning in suspicion at the unexpected question, which Beomgyu notices right away and clarifies, "We haven't talked in a while. I wanna make sure you're doing alright." He says, tone genuine… and a bit sad.

"I am." You allow, not being untruthful. You are alright, no matter how bad you feel doing it without him. "We're doing well. Yeonjun is as wonderful as ever. He is sweet and funny and he shows me something new everyday. Which is a bit scary for me–you know how I am afraid of change, but he makes it exciting.”

“I’m glad. I want you to be happy.” He smiles at you. It doesn’t reach his eyes but you know he means it. “And I wish I could be there to see it for myself. Do you think you can let me?”

That’s what you were afraid of. This is why you shouldn’t have talked to him. You knew he might use it to try to get back into your life, and you know how hard it would be for you to say no. But you do it anyway. You have to do it for yourself and for Yeonjun.

“I can’t. Not now.” Each meager letter leaving your mouth feels like a blow to the heart. It lays battered in your chest, asking you why the hell you would refuse it its salvation, but you just push it down again, silencing it.

“But I miss you.” His words come out choppy and weak, and you know he’s holding back tears. You hate him for it because it makes you want to cry too. “Don’t you miss me?”

“Of course, I miss you!” You whisper as if you don’t want the universe to hear it. "I'll always miss you. But I can't keep doing this with you anymore. I'm tired of the whiplash."

"No more whiplash.” He shakes his head harshly, getting closer to you but you step back, causing pain to bloom across his teary face. “I get it now. I've worked through my stuff and I'm ready to be a real friend again."

"Well, I haven't worked through mine.” You stand strong. Or as strongly as you can be under such duress. “I still need time and I will not have you rush me."

He moves back, shoulders hunched down. "I'm sorry."

"I know." You say tiredly before walking away, your bruised heart bleeding out at the bottom of your chest.

____________

Beomgyu’s song has become some kind of a local sensation. It is being listened to by a lot of the young people in your city–resonating with many youths who have gone through similar heartbreaks. From small unrequited crushes to the person you love falling out of love with you–who hasn’t loved more than they have been loved before?

The painfully relatable song has gained the boys a considerable amount of fame online too. They were being asked to do more gigs than ever. They’ve even gotten an interview, which you’re currently preparing them for, dressing them up to look their best on camera.

Like always, you’ve left Beomgyu for last, dreading being close to him still. And he gives you every reason to, staring at you the whole time you fix his clothes.

"What?" You finally ask, and he gives you a dumb look. "What?"

"You're staring." You tell him, and he averts his gaze. You can see from the ear poking out of his long hair that he’s blushing. "Oh. Didn't realize."

Oh, how many times you’ve teased him over the way his ears turn red when he’s embarrassed. It was such an endearing quality in him, just one of the many small reasons that made up the whole of you loving him.

You got back to styling him, pretending it doesn’t tug at your heartstrings anymore, and he goes back to staring at you.

After a long beat of silence, he asks awkwardly, "So what are you up to? What's new with you?"

"Well, I'm the creative director for this up and coming band's new song." You joke, trying to ease off the tension. Or maybe his cute involuntary reaction softened up your defenses a little bit.

"Oh, are they good?" He grins, falling gladly into your familiar banter.

"They are, but I think their bass guitarist only got the job because of his looks."

He gives an affronted gasp. "What the hell? Hater! What, you think just because he's so pretty he can't possibly be talented too? Us pretty people are always misjudged."

"Oh, you poor pretty boy." You reach out to pinch his chin, before you realize what you’re doing and quickly take your hand away, clearing your throat and stepping back. “All done.”

You give him a tense smile and turn to leave but his hand shoots out to grab your wrist.

"Wait." He shouts, and you look down at his hand wrapped around your wrist. He notices your discomfort and immediately lets you go. "Do you want to get together for some food or a movie or something?"

Why does he have to make this so hard? Why does he do this every time?

"Not yet." You repeat what you must’ve told him a dozen times before. You can't slip back into it. Because your skin still buzzes whenever you touch him and your heart clenches painfully around the hole he left in it whenever you see him. You need time apart to fully let the love you have for him go.

"When?” He asks, frustrated. “When will it end? What can I do to help? What do you need me to do so you can be my friend again?"

"I need you to give me space." You say firmly, standing your ground.

“But–”

“No buts, Beomgyu. You’re the one who made it this way. If you had been my friend when I needed you to, we wouldn’t have gotten into this situation. You need to deal with the consequences of your own actions.”

He stares at the ground, not answering you. You sigh, turning around to leave with no restrictions this time.

Though what you said to him about his previous behavior causing a rift between you wasn’t false, it wasn’t entirely the truth either. The other reason you felt you couldn’t be his friend again yet is that you’re still not over him, and you’ve made a promise to yourself and to Yeonjun that you will only be devoting yourself to him from now on, and Beomgyu being there is just going to hinder your progress.

But as you watch the boys do their interview, you can’t help but feel guilty for what you’d said to Beomgyu. You know it was the right thing to do, but seeing him look so glum, his light dimmed and his spirits down, you wish you had held it off at least for later.

He is acting nothing like his normal loud, talkative self. He looks down and doesn’t speak unless directly asked a question. It hurts your heart because you know the people watching this won’t get to see how funny and bright and passionate he is. They’ll see him as the quiet guy staring at his own feet. He might still get some fans who would be into the quiet, sad look but that’s not who Beomgyu is. That’s not what he wants to be known as.

But the rest of the boys are covering for him well, especially Yeonjun. He is so charming, you know he’s gonna be stealing hearts left and right when this airs. He certainly has managed to put a smile on your face despite all the conflicting feelings you’re feeling, and you make sure he sees it whenever he glances in your direction.

_______________

The boys are doing better than ever, more interviews and gigs coming in and filling their schedule up so rapidly they’ll barely have any free time soon. They’re already in talks with a record company looking to sign them. Which is why you’re actively savoring moments like this when you get to just hangout with Yeonjun at the mall, eating a snack as you take a break from shopping–one of your favorite activities to do as a couple.

“Just think, soon enough we won’t even be able to do this. We’d be getting mobbed by crowds wanting your autograph and pushing me out of the way to take pictures of you.” You say to Yeonjun, half-joking. It might really happen one day with how quickly they’re gaining popularity. They might have small fame now but who knows what tomorrow will bring, and you believe in the boys. They’re talented enough to do it, and that both worries you and excites you.

“Well, I’ll only ever have eyes for you.” He winks at you, and you give him a small smile.

In moments like this you should feel happy. You are happy. But your happiness is incomplete. It is shadowed by worry and doubt. Yeonjun is so wonderful. He is so sweet and he can be very caring, but sometimes you can’t help but question how much he really feels for you. It keeps you from letting yourself completely go with him. He tells you words that are supposed to be charming, but they don’t sound personal. They don’t feel deep. You know he likes you, but is he ever going to love you?

Maybe you’re overthinking it. This is what a budding relationship is like–the novelty comes with uncertainty. The first times come with doubt. The young fire sometimes burns. You shouldn’t let yourself ruin it for you.

Yes, your love for him isn’t as old and deep-rooted as your love for Beomgyu but maybe that’s a good thing. It will take time to grow and flourish and become something just as beautiful or even more so. In time, you can learn to let go of your all-consuming love for your best friend, cover that gaping hole that Beomgyu has left in your heart, forget about the way every time you see Beomgyu with her you feel like screaming out so loud the gods themselves will weep–

“Beomgyu.” You gasp, seeing him in front of you. Fuck, he’s like bloody marry. Call his name three times and he appears.

You try to hide, putting your head down and attempting to cover your face with your hair but there is no mistaking Yeonjun’s bright orange head and Beomgyu quickly spots you and makes his way over to you with Haeun of all people.

“Curse your stupid hair.” You hiss at Yeonjun just before Beomgyu and Haeun arrive at the table.

"Hey, guys, are you on a date?" Beomgyu asks as if there was any doubt about it.

"Yes, actually." Yeonjun tells him in a tone that clearly conveys that you don’t want to be disturbed, But Beomgyu doesn’t care, grabbing a chair and pulling it out.

"Oh sweet." He sits down. "How have you guys been?"

“What are you doing, Beommie? We have a lot of shopping to do.” Haeun complains, and every time you hear her call him that you want to claw her tongue out.

"In a minute, baby. Let's rest our legs for a bit." He motions for Haeun to sit down, but she puts her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to rest.”

“Well then you go on and I’ll catch up with you.” He suggests and she huffs, deciding to sit down after all. Oh, joy.

“But I can’t leave you alone, Beommie.” She whines, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his neck, making you almost hurl.

Thankfully, Yeonjun takes your attention away from them. “So, what new crazy thing is your boss asking from you?”

You turn fully to him, trying your best to ignore the disgusting intruders. “Ugh, don’t even get me started. This morning, she–”

“Boss? What boss?” Beomgyu interrupts, and you clench your teeth, preparing yourself before turning your head to look towards him.

“The editor of Elements magazine. She saw the Frost shoot and wanted me to do a pictorial for them.”

“Oh my god, that is amazing.” He shouts, startling Haeun who was so close to his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

An awkward moment passes after his mindless question. Because we don’t talk? Because we’re not friends anymore?

Eventually, you decide to just shrug. “I guess it must’ve slipped my mind.”

“Right.” He clears his throat, going along. “Well, show me what you’ve done so far.”

You hesitate, glancing at Yeonjun who sighs and gestures for you to go ahead. So you pull up your phone, showing him some of the pictures you’ve already taken.

"Wow this is real artistic shit." Beomgyu awes and you laugh. Trust in Beomgyu to give such an un-nuanced but still somehow very flattering opinion.

“I don’t get it. It’s just a guy in a bathtub.” Haeun speaks up, obviously intending to antagonize you. “My friend Jiwon takes better pictures than this and he didn’t even go to college. If that’s what they teach you at school then you’ve wasted your money.”

Oh fuck no. You may be spineless but you won’t allow Haeun of all people to make fun of your work. You prepare to launch into a screaming match with her condescending ass, but before you could even open your mouth to speak, Beomgyu beats you to it. “Your friend Jiwon takes back camera pictures of weird strangers on the street and makes up an exaggerated or completely false backstory about them to try to make the obviously amateur pictures appear more interesting. How fucking original.”

Beomgyu’s quick defense of you makes your heart swell. Some things never change.

“Yeah? Like this is original!” She sputters indignantly.

“I know it’s nothing groundbreaking.” You interrupt their quarrel, “Like a guy in a tub staring longingly at the camera isn’t something that hasn’t exactly been done before but… umm, it’s actually inspired by your song. The colored water is supposed to represent love, you know the “I’m drowning in you” part? It’s killing him but he can’t get himself to get out. He wants to drown in it… I don’t know it may be stupid but I hope you don’t mind.”

"Oh. No, I'm… flattered." He trails off, staring at you wide-eyed. “I didn’t think I would be able to inspire you again…”

“Yeah, well...” You mumble bashfully, a charged moment passes over you as you stare silently at each other.

"Are you done?" Haeun complains, and for once you’re thankful to her for cutting the strange moment. "I'm bored. Let's go."

“We haven’t even eaten anything yet. Take a look at the menus and order something for us, won’t you?” He asks her, but doesn’t even wait for her response before turning back to you. "You know what would be hilarious. If you get the editor to let you do a shoot with the plastic watermelon dress you made."

“It’s not plastic.” You roll your eyes at him, knowing exactly which dress he’s referring to. “It’s coral organza.”

“Looked like plastic to me.” He shrugs with a mischievous grin on his face.

“That’s because you're fashion illiterate.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m very fashion forward and hip.” He proclaims, sounding decidedly NOT neither fashion forward nor hip.

“Yes, because a punk guitarist wearing ratty shirts and ripped jeans is so revolutionary.” You drawl teasingly and he pouts, pulling at his shirt. “Hey! You were there when I picked these out. You said I looked cool.”

“Yeah, she’ll say you look cool wearing a garbage bag.” Yeonjun scoffs and you blush, realizing that you’ve completely neglected Yeonjun as soon as Beomgyu got here. You move back from your huddled forward stance to lean against your boyfriend.

“What?” Beomgyu asks and you quickly brush Yeonjun’s comment off. “Nothing. Now Yeonjun is very stylish. He knows all the trends and he knows how to make them work for him.”

Beomgyu snorts, glancing at your hand that is caressing Yeonjun’s chest. “I don’t follow trends. I make trends.”

“That’s right, baby. You’re a trendsetter.” Haeun coos, getting her hands on him too, touching him much more inappropriately than you were touching Yeonjun.

But Beomgyu ignores her once again, asking you, "How did you even reach the editor of Elements?"

"Oh, Yeonjun knew her." Your hand falls down to wrap around Yeonjun’s, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Of course, Yeonjun knows the editor." For some reason that piece of information really seemed to annoy Beomgyu. But you ignore his unnecessarily snarky tone and turn to smile at Yeonjun, hoping he’d forgive you for your earlier mishap. “Yeah, he’s amazing, isn’t he?”

"Yes, he’s great.” Beomgyu mutters, standing up. “I think me and Haeun have stuff to do. Let’s go, baby."

"Yes!" She claps happily, standing up too.

"Oh, okay. Bye, I guess." You mumble, watching them abruptly scurry off as you try to process the weird interaction. "What's wrong with him?"

“Maybe he’s just being his usual weird self.” Yeonjun shrugs, removing his hand from yours, making you frown. "Or maybe he feels inadequate because I was able to get you the job and he couldn't."

"That's ridiculous." Why would Beomgyu feel inadequate about that? He doesn’t have any obligation to get you work.

"Is it? If I was in love with a girl and another guy gave her what I couldn't. I would be pretty bummed out too."

"What?" The world suddenly screeches to a halt, as does Yeonjun. He looks at you, slowly contemplating something as if he doesn’t know that the world has stopped and is waiting on him.

Finally, he sighs. "I tried to ignore it. Partly because the idiot is trying to hide it and partly because I like you, but ever since we got together, it's been pretty damn hard to ignore. Beomgyu is clearly in love with you.”

"No. You’re getting it wrong.” You shake your head, hoping to get rid of the cotton that has replaced your brain, your thoughts feeling fuzzy and slow as they travel through it. “He's just upset because he thinks us dating will drive me and him apart… which I guess has been true."

"No, he's upset because he wants to be with you and it's killing him to see us together.” Yeonjun clarifies, irritated at having to explain to you how some other guy is in love with you.

"How can you be so sure? Did he tell you that?"

"He doesn't have to tell me. I have eyes…" He looks you up and down. "And well, I'm not stupid like you two."

"That's ridiculous." You denounce once more.

"You said that already."

"Well, it is! Beomgyu doesn’t love me. I mean as a friend, sure but not… like that."

"Oh my god, I'm dealing with two idiots. I don’t even know why the fuck I’m explaining this to you but here goes,” Yeonjun exclaims in frustration, obviously not enjoying this conversation any more than you are. “Think about it, no guy gets this worked up over just a fuck. His first explanation of his anger being just because he’s afraid our relationship is going to ruin the band was total bullshit. It was just to throw you off his scent and have a way to get you to stay away from me without revealing anything. And his second explanation is even more bullshit. Why the fuck would us being in a relationship make you lose him as a friend if he didn’t hold anything but platonic love for you? Why does he get mad every time you and I take a step forward in our relationship? Because he’s fucking in love with you. He literally wrote a whole song about how he’s secretly in love with you and it’s killing him that you’re not his!"

“That song was about me?” You ask and he gives you a look as if to say he can’t believe a single human being can be this dumb. “No, it’s obviously about the girl he’s been ignoring the entire time he was sat with us just so he could talk to you.”

Your mouth opens slowly, tongue dry as it forms the words. "Let’s say he does love me. Why wouldn't he just tell me?"

"Why wouldn't you just tell him?"

You sputter uselessly for a while, not really saying anything. Until you give up and just stop, submerging the both of you in a suffocating silence. You’d think that your thoughts would be racing a million miles an hour right now, trying to process all this information, but nothing is going through your head except one question.

Beomgyu loves me? Beomgyu loves me? Beomgyu loves me?

You’re only taken out of your looping thought when Yeonjun sighs again. "Well, this was fun while it lasted."

"What?" Your mouth hangs open, your frozen brain somehow still having enough power to be shocked.

"You're obviously still completely in love with him. When he's there it's like you don't even see me. You don't see anyone else." Yeonjun says defeatedly.

"No, I–" You try to deny, but he gives you a pointed look, daring you to lie to him.

“Okay, I love him but I’m with you.”

“Only to get over him.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No. My feelings for you are real. Don’t you dare deny that.”

“Maybe, but they’re not as strong as your feelings for him.”

“But they can be.” You insist–trying to convince yourself or him, you don’t know. Maybe if you give me the chance to–”

“To what? Wait and see if you’ll finally look for me first when you walk into a room instead of him? Pretend that I don’t know that time and distance haven’t dulled your love for him one bit? I can’t go on in a relationship where I know my partner will always be thinking ‘what if’. I won’t let myself be hurt like that by you. Not anymore.”

You tear up. You were hurting him? You didn't even think he cared all that much. You must be a terrible judge of character to be getting both boys so wrong. “I’m sorry, Yeonjun. I never meant to hurt you. I really, really tried.”

You really did. You didn’t do this just to get over Beomgyu. Yes, it was part of it, but you liked him too. You really thought this could work, and you really think it would have if Beomgyu wasn’t in the picture, and so you did everything in your power to take him out of it. You moved out from your apartment. You cut Beomgyu off. You dedicated yourself to Yeonjun.

But how can you stop your heart from beating for Beomgyu? It’s entirely out of your control.

"But you did anyway.” He says and you wince, one tear escaping your lashes and falling down the left side of your face. “Do you hate me?”

“I could never hate you.” He sighs, and your lips tremble as you confess, “I wish you would. It might make me feel better.”

“Maybe you don’t deserve to feel better.” His words pierce your heart, and you know you deserve every ounce of pain it inflicts.

“That’s fair.”

You’re both silent for a long while–you trying to keep your tears under control, not wishing for him to see it as any intention to garner sympathy or guilt from him, and him sitting there quietly, his thoughts entirely hidden from you, but you know there is pain and anger in him. You can feel it radiating off of him.

But eventually your tears dry out, and you gather enough courage to ask one last thing of him. “I know I have no right to ask this but can you not tell Beomgyu about us breaking up? I don’t want him to know yet. But don’t worry, I’ll gather my things and move out. You won’t have to live with me.”

"You're not done playing games?" He frowns and you shake your head. "I'm not. It’s just because you guys are working out that record deal and if anything goes wrong, I don’t want to risk ruining things for you.”

“Fine.” Yeonjun graciously accepts. “And you can stay. I’m not gonna kick you out into the street. I’m not that kinda guy.”

____________________

Despite your love for Beomgyu, your break-up with Yeonjun wasn’t easy. You really liked him and had grown attached to him. And even though you still lived together, you hardly talked when it was just the two of you alone. You realize with time just how hurt he is by everything even though he tries his best to hide it from the others–not just because they think you’re still together, but because he has always refused to burden his younger members with his troubles, ever the selfless older brother. It’s one of the qualities you both admired and despised about him simultaneously. You wanted him to share his fears and worries, to lighten the load on his shoulders, and for a short while you were able to do that for him, but now that you’ve broken up, he’s left to carry all of it by himself again and with heartbreak to boot.

You feel incredibly guilty about it, and you mourn for the love that could’ve blossomed between you had you not been so hung up about your best friend. The best friend you still haven’t talked to by the way.

Yeonjun's words have not left your mind since the day he revealed everything to you. No moment passes by when you don't think about them. But you haven’t confronted Beomgyu about it yet because the record deal was still underway, and because you weren’t sure if Yeonjun is even right about it all. What if he’s wrong?

Yeah, what? You'll ruin your friendship with Beomgyu? It's already in shambles anyway. Still, the rejection will be brutal. You've lived in the shadows for years. You're used to ignoring your feelings, that kind of pain is familiar to you now, but if you reveal them to Beomgyu and he shoots you down, you might not bear it.

You'll tell him soon enough though, after the party tonight. The boys have finally reached an agreement with the record company and the contract has come through. They're officially signed to a label now and tonight’s party is a small celebration of that.

You’ll do it after the party tonight. You’ll ask to talk to him after everyone leaves and you’ll confess everything. You're ready to come clean and end it all. Well, as ready as you can be.

But as the party drags on, you get restless, and when you spot Beomgyu alone, refilling his drink, you can’t help but steal a little moment with him.

“Congratulations, Beommie. I hear your song sealed the deal.” You smile widely, your lips buzzing with the desire to tell him what you really want to say–that you love him, that you’re proud of him, and that if his song is really about you then he needs to know that you’ve always been his.

“Yeah. I’m not so useless after all.” Beomgyu’s reply is short and bitter.

“What?”

Yeonjun’s words ring in your ears. If I was in love with a girl and another guy gave her what I couldn't. I would be pretty bummed out too. Is this Beomgyu being insecure like Yeonjun said?

But before you can get him to clarify what he means, Haeun comes running over, incapable of leaving him alone for more than a minute. Can you really blame her? If you had him, you would never let him go either.

“Baby, there you are! My star boy.” She throws her arms around him, pulling him into an open mouthed kiss that makes you want to vomit.

You quickly retreat, not having missed the soft-core porn you used to witness while living with Beomgyu. Fucking Yeonjun, is this what he calls Beomgyu being in love with you? You don’t see him pushing her away or anything. He seems pretty happy with the kiss if his tongue in her mouth is any indication.

"Foul." You mutter, swigging your cider, almost choking on it when a voice speaks up next to you. "That can't be good for the heart, huh?"

You look at Yeonjun sheepishly, not sure if you can talk to him about this. After all, you did break up because of your love for the man currently getting his face sucked off by Haeun. So you just settle on mumbling out a weak yeah.

"Well, you know you could always fix it by confronting him about his undying love for you." He tells you and you can’t help but snort, annoyance overcoming your trepidation. "Yeah, right. He's so heartbroken, he's going to drown his sorrows in her pussy."

“He’s just doing this because he thinks we’re still together. If he knows you’re free, I can guarantee you he’ll be dropping her so fast she won’t hit the ground before he’s on his knees for you.”

“How can you be so confident?” You ask and he shrugs. “Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.”

He walks away, leaving you to think over his words. Funny, that’s how you feel about the sight still playing out in front of you, the disgusting view getting burned into your retinas.

Deciding you needed a break, you slip away from the living room, heading towards the bathroom to wash your face off. But on the way there, you pass by your old room, stopping when you see the door slightly cracked open.

Your feet take you inside without you realizing it, compelled by curiosity to see what he’s done with the room in your absence. Has he turned it into a gaming room? Is he using it for storage? Is he letting her use it as her own? Oh, god, you really hope not. Anything but that.

But you’re surprised when you step inside and find it mostly empty except for your old mattress and a few items you must’ve forgotten during your move. A T-shirt here, a sleeping mask there–they were all strewn around on your bed with the odd piece of clothing from Beomgyu himself in the mix.

You step closer, examining the items when something in particular catches your eyes. A flash of pink under a pillow that makes you reach forward to pull it out, realizing just what it was once it’s in your hands–a pair of pink panties. Your pink panties that you’d been missing for a while. Why does Beomgyu have this? You thought he just used this because he was so pent up he needed any form of release but now Haeun is never off his dick so why does he still do this?

Could Yeonjun have been right all along?

As you continue to hold it in your hands, puzzling over it, you hear the door open and close behind you and Beomgyu’s panicky voice calling out your name.

"What are you doing in here?" He squeaks as if this wasn’t your room. Well, your old room but still. It’s not like he made any changes to it yet.

You turn to face him with the panties in your hands, silent, and his eyes grow wide as he stammers, trying to explain himself. “These are old.”

“They’re wet.” You say plainly, which means he has just used them, and he knows it too.

He scoffs, attempting to appear unaffected. As if this is just a completely reasonable situation that you’ve blown way out of proportion. “Well–it’s just–they were on hand.” He gives you what may possibly be the flimsiest excuse in history.

Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

"Did you leave these out for me to see?" You question, and he rushes to deny. "No! I just forgot to put them away."

His eyes widen again at what he just said, basically admitting that he took them from you on purpose to do with them exactly what you had in mind. God, he's such a stupid loser.

You walk towards him until you’re standing right in front of him, leaving him no room to breathe. “Make everyone leave.”

“It’s our celebratory party, I can’t just–”

You grab his hand and put it under your skirt, pressing his fingers against your warm pussy. “And I want to give you your reward. Make them leave.”

He looks at you, shocked, and suddenly you realize what you're asking of him. You're coming onto him after weeks of ignoring him. You're asking him to have sex with you when he has a girlfriend–when he thinks you have a boyfriend. Oh god.

But then he gulps and says. "Okay."

You watch from behind the door as he stops the music and kicks everyone out, telling them that he doesn’t feel good and needs to rest, and when Kai complains loudly, he asks him if he’d like to stay back and hold his hair while he vomits. That quickly convinces everyone to take the party elsewhere, even his girlfriend. But one person knows better, and you see him peeking around Beomgyu to catch your hidden eyes. You share a look before he turns around and leaves the apartment. This is it. You’re going to do this.

As soon as Beomgyu comes back, you pull him into a kiss, releasing your overflowing nerves with each frustrated and needy moan you let out against his lips. Fuck, you missed kissing him so much. His lips may not be as soft as Yeonjun’s–he may not be as good of a kisser–but god does he still make your heart sing.

“Strip.” You order when you finally tear yourself away from him, though Beomgyu doesn’t make it easy, resisting you the first couple of times you try and pulling you right back into the hungry kiss. But you finally do, and Beomgyu doesn’t hesitate to follow your cue then.

After he’s all stripped down, he looks at you, gaze speaking of his own need to devour you. “Will you strip too?”

“Do you want it?” You ask, putting on an alluring voice but deep down you were just nervous about letting him see you fully for the first time. Even though your experience with Yeonjun has made you gain confidence, you’re still insecure, especially when it comes to Beomgyu. You want to impress him. You want him to think you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. You want him to forget about her. You want him to only think of you.

Naturally, that is a lot to live up too.

Beomgyu nods enthusiastically, somehow managing to come across as adorable in this situation. “Yes, please. Take it all off.”

He tries to reach out to do it himself but you shake your head, pushing him onto the bed.

“No. We do this my way.” You tell him, and he nods again, keeping himself in check.

You reach for the zipper on your dress, hesitantly letting it fall to the floor. You aren’t wearing any bra so now you are almost nude except for your panties as you stand in front of him.

“Fuck. You’re so hot.” He takes his cock into his hand, pumping it as he leers at you. You should feel dirty having him openly masturbate to the sight of you but it makes you feel so fucking good about yourself. It’s just what you needed–for him to show you how much he wants you. “Please, take off your panties too. Wanna see your pussy.”

Despite his lewd display–or more accurately because of it–you’re given the courage to finally fully undress yourself in front of him, overcoming years of insecurities of what he’ll think of your body and any unfavorable comparisons he might make.

“Oh fuck–” He licks his lips, squeezing his cock as he stares at your pussy. “You’re perfect.”

“You think so?” You ask demurely, trying to hide your shock. Is he really telling the truth? It feels like it but you still need confirmation after years of doubting yourself.

“God, yes. Your tits are divine. I wanna suck on them and play with them all night. Your little pussy is so pretty, I wanna be buried in it forever. Come here, please, ride me, sit on my face, anything…”

Is this what you were worried about all these years? He looks pretty fucking happy with what he’s seeing. Why were you so scared? You’re so mad at yourself for wasting all this time with self-doubt when you could’ve had him long ago.

“You really need that?” You throw your panties at him, feeling more confident than ever after his proclamations. “Isn't this usually enough for you?”

“No, please, you said you’d give me a reward." He whines, distraught at the thought of you being so close but not attainable yet again. "I’ve been good.”

“Have you?” You scoff, straddling him, pressing your pussy against his cock and his body goes limp, letting you do what you want. “You’ve been nothing but a horndog, getting your rocks off wherever you can, whether it’s backstage getting sucked off by her or stealing my panties and fisting your cock with them. You’ve been such a bad boy.”

“I’m sorry.” He slurs, mouth hanging open.

"Are you? You seem to be enjoying this."

"I'm sorry." He repeats again, staring at your pussy as it moves forwards and backwards over his cock, covering it in your slick.

"You're fucking hopeless, Beomgyu. You'd do anything to get a piece of me, huh?"

"Yes." He nods eagerly, "Can you sit on my face?"

You laugh, climbing up his body until you’re hovering over his face and digging your fingers in his hair to keep his head down so he wouldn’t make any unwanted moves before you’re ready. "Is my pussy the only thing on your empty brain?"

"Uh-huh." He says dumbly, almost going cross eyes with the way he's staring at your pussy. You fucking love it. This is what you needed–to be needed. And Beomgyu gives it all to you without you even asking for it.

"Good boy." You tell him and he shoots you a searing look at that–at you finally calling him that again–before you sit down on his face.

You try not to put too much weight on him, not wanting to hurt him but Beomgyu has other ideas. He grabs your ass and pulls you down on his ready mouth, tongue flicking out to give eager licks to your already wet pussy.

"Bad–bad boy–" You hiss, pulling at his hair but he won't let go, too intent on eating you out, nuzzling his whole lower face into your pussy, his tongue and lips alternating between long messy licks and needy sucking motions, his nose brushing against your clit every now and then in his fervor.

"Fuck, Beomgyu slow down."

But that word isn't in Beomgyu's dictionary, not when he's wanted this for so long. His fingers dig into your ass, making sure you can’t escape as his tongue presses inside your hole, flicking around as much as he can while your pussy flutters around it.

"So good–tastes so good." He slurs, drool and your juices covering his lower face but he doesn’t even care. In fact if anything it turns him on if his hard, leaking cock that you see when you throw a glance backwards is anything to go by.

"You fucking the air, Beommie?" You pant, not faring much better than him but needing to tease him anyway. "Need my pussy this bad?"

But Beomgyu can't be teased. Not when he's so shameless.

"Yes. Will you sit on my cock?"

"How bad do you need it?" You sit up, pulling away from him and cutting off strings of your combined need.

"So bad. Feels like I might die without it."

"You sound like a horny fuckboy, Beommie. You know I only like good boys." You chastise, and Beomgyu shoots back, "Is that why you’re dating a whore?"

You growl, sinking back on his face, this time not caring so much about your weight over him. "Don't talk about Yeonjun like that."

He turns his face to the side to nip at your thigh in protest so you just straighten his head again and sit down on him fully, not allowing him any space to move. "You know the only whore here is you. So stick your tongue out like a good whore and let me ride it or I'll leave your dirty cock all red and weeping."

He whines in fear, sticking his tongue out for you, not daring to risk it. You move yourself over him, grinding your pussy over his tongue as he stares up at you pleadingly.

“You like it, baby? You like me using you to get off?”

He moans out in response, not having any other way to communicate his agreement and not willing to pull away from you. But you hear a wet noise coming from behind you and you look back to see him fisting his cock, clearly excited by it all. He wants this as much as you do. He has been begging for it for so long, and so you’re not so cruel as to make him take his hand away, but you need to make sure your excitement doesn’t end too soon.

“Fuck, you really wanted this, huh? Can’t help yourself whenever you get a taste of this pussy?” You tease, and he whines again, his cock thrusting into his own fist pitifully. “But don’t get too excited. You want to feel this pussy around you, don’t you?”

The needy noises he keeps letting out vibrate against your pussy, driving you even wilder as you pull on his hair harshly and desperately grind yourself on his tongue, your high so close you could taste it.

“Good boy, gonna make me cum… you want it? Want me to cum all of that pretty face?” You growl, and his hands leave his cock to grab your ass, pressing you so tightly against him, you worry that he won’t be able to breathe.

But Beomgyu clearly loves it. He wants you to do it. He moves your hips so you’re fucking his face harder, faster, all while those slutty eyes of his never leave your face.

“I’m cumming–fuck, Beommie… good boy–” You scream, shuddering as you cum over him. But as you stop moving, paralyzed by the intense orgasm, he starts moving his tongue, lapping up every drop you let out, giving your pussy open mouthed filthy kisses as he wraps his lips around you and eagerly sticks his tongue into your hole to get even more.

You have to pull away from him when it becomes too much, and Beomgyu chases after you, not having had his fill yet somehow. He's still so needy that he ends up pushing you down and laying over you, his lips incessant against yours as his cock lays heavy on your pussy.

You tug on his hair, finally detaching his lips from yours. "That's enough, Beomgyu."

“I made you cum.” He says in a daze, a stupid smile on his face.

“Yes, you did.” You wipe his bottom lip with your thumb before sticking it in his mouth, letting him suck on it. It’s useless of course. The entire bottom half of his face was glistening with your cum. Not that you were actually trying to clean him up. You liked seeing him covered in you too much. “Ready for your reward, baby?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” He groans, his hips bucking up against you, gliding his cock against your wet pussy. "Wanna fuck you so bad. Can I put it in now?"

"Are you gonna keep being a good boy for me? Gonna listen to my instructions and not let your cock take over your dumb brain and make you hump me like a dog?"

He shakes his head even though he was literally humping you right now. "I'll listen. I'll be so good."

"Okay, Beommie. You can put it in–slowly!"

He rushes to push his cock inside your pussy, only stopping when it's all the way inside you. "Oh god–I'm finally inside you. Wanted it for so long."

This is exactly what you had been missing. This is what you needed that Yeonjun wasn't able to give to you. Beomgyu isn't shy when expressing how much he wants you. He'll beg and plead until you give it to him.

"Can I move, baby?" He asks, voice strained with the effort of holding back.

You nod. "Go ahead. But slowly."

He makes a valiant effort, pulling his hips back and thrusting in slowly, shuddering every time his cock is fully enveloped by your pussy.

“Good?" You ask as if his mouth wasn't hung open, as if his eyes weren't all hazy, as if he wasn't holding onto you for dear life.

"So good. Can't believe I'm fucking you."

Neither can you. You had really begun to lose hope but here you are, laid on your back with Beomgyu fucking you, following your instruction as best he could–the strain of it obvious on his face. It's everything you wanted and you finally have it.

"Can I touch your tits?" He pleads, giving you his classic puppy eyes and you smile. "Go ahead, honey."

He groans, reaching out and cupping them in his hands. "Oh god. Missed them." He leans down and attaches his lips to them, biting and kissing all over them as his hips pick up speed.

"Beomgyu…" You warn, pulling on his hair. He fights against you, looking up but not detaching from your tits. "Don't get ahead of yourself now. You want me to feel good too, don't you?"

He nods, his face still firmly buried in your lips but finally letting go of your nipple to moan out, "Yes, wanna make you feel better than anyone else."

His own words rile him up and he bites down on the skin next to your areola, making sure not to hurt you but still expressing his frustration.

"You're such a bratty baby." You scold him, but in reality you love it. You love how possessive and needy he is acting. It doesn't allow a single negative or insecure thought to enter your mind. How could it when he's so obvious about his need for you? "You can go faster now, baby."

"Oh, thank you." He groans, hips picking up speed.

"Better, honey?" You pant, brushing his wet hair out of his face so you can fully see how lost he is in the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him.

"So much better. Never wanna stop." He leans down, kissing you harshly, lips opening and closing around yours, his tongue pressing into your mouth hungrily. His hands grab at your thighs, pushing them against your body as he goes even faster, a constant stream of whines and whimpers released into your mouth.

You force yourself to sober up despite the smoldering fire breaking out in your body from the way he's fucking you so good. You want him to keep going. You want him to keep fucking you until your mind has turned to mush and your limbs have turned to jelly. But you can’t let him have it this easily. You can't let him get away with the amount of pain and suffering he has caused you. He needs to feel it too, even if just a fraction of it. He needs to feel the longing and despair he has made you feel for so long.

"Slow down." You order, pulling his head away from you, doing it extra mean just the way he likes it.

"No, no, please." He cries, not slowing down. "Please… I thought this was a reward. You’re driving me crazy."

"Do you want me to push you down and tie your hand to the headboard to make sure you behave?" You threaten, trying to keep your voice under control against the incessant thrusts of his cock into your poor pussy. "It's only gonna be worse for you."

"No. No. Wanna keep touching you." He blabbers, hands groping at every inch of you he could reach, worried you'd make good on your threats.

"Then be good." You suck in a sharp breath as he pulls on your nipples before kneading the soft flesh.

"I will. I'm your good boy, right?" He slurs, his hips slowing down.

Damn, he's really addicted to hearing you say that, huh?

"Yes, you are. You’re my best boy." You coo, stroking his soft hair and he nuzzles into your hand like a puppy, seeking any form of contact with you.

"Thank you." He groans, fingers digging into your skin as he tries to hold himself back, his poor cock screaming at him to just take you like he wants. "So pretty. Look so pretty getting fucked."

"Yeah? Is it how you imagined it when you'd fuck my panties?" You ask but once again Beomgyu has no shame, his hips faltering at the reminder of his debauched actions.

"Better. So pretty. So tight. Could stay in your cunt forever." He almost drools at the thought, and you really believe he'd love to do just that.

"Dirty boy. Dirty little boy going all dumb for me." You stroke his face lovingly and he peers at you with pleading eyes. "Baby, please, hurts… can I go faster?"

"Aw, poor pup, do you need to hammer your cock into my pussy that bad?" You scold, giving his face light slaps.

"Uh-huh… will make you feel good. I promise." He babbles, his hips already going faster as if he's sure you'll give him permission.

"No." This may or may not be the one and only time you get to fuck him. You need to savor it. "Slow down."

Your hands go to his hips, clawing at his skin to slow down his thrusts and he relents, albeit begrudgingly. "You're so mean."

"But you love it." You laugh at his tearful pout. "God, you love it so much you can't stop shaking your hips like a whore. It's like you've never been fucked before.”

"I haven't. You’re my first.” He admits, knocking any remaining breath out of your lungs.

This is his first time. He and Haeun never did it? What the fuck?

"Did you let him fuck you?" He asks, and you stay silent. He knows you’ve fucked Yeonjun. There is no way he thinks you live with Yeonjun and aren’t fucking him. But then again, he hasn’t fucked Haeun, and you were so sure that he did.

"Did you?" He asks again, an edge to his voice and you nod minutely. "I didn't know. I thought you and Haeun–"

Beomgyu's whole face changes. "God, you're such a slut. Fucking two men at the same time."

You immediately get defensive. Yeonjun was your boyfriend. You had dated for months. You’re not a whore for fucking him. It would be more understandable if he’s referring to the fact (or what he thinks is a fact) of you fucking him when you have a boyfriend, but you’re almost certain that’s not what he’s upset about. He’s just jealous you’ve fucked Yeonjun at all. "Just because she won't let you put it in, doesn't make me a slut."

That just angers him more, and he practically bends you in half as his dick pumps in and out of you at a brutal pace, his anger at what you’ve done making him lose it, not caring about your instructions anymore. "I hate you."

You laugh, fighting hard to hide the pain his statement elicits in your gut as well as to keep your voice steady as he practically plows his cock into you. God, he makes you so mad but he’s fucking you so good.

"But you sure love my pussy."

"My pussy." He growls, catching you off guard once again. He bends his head down to kiss your neck harshly, and can already feel the marks blooming there under his teeth. "Mine. Not his. All mine."

"What?” You sputter. Is this it? Is this how he confesses to you? “Beomgyu, what–”

"Shut up." He smacks your ass, not willing to hear your protests right now. "You've played with me long enough. Now be good and take it."

Played with him? What the hell is he talking about? You’ve never played with him. But any attempt to get a sane answer out of him right now is useless as the sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room and Beomgyu latches his mouth onto yours, trying to dominate you in a way he has never attempted to do before–as if he’s trying to prove that you really are his.

And you are. He may not know it but you’ve always been his.

But his strong facade is paper-thin and you can see right through it to the insecure boy below when he pulls back to look at you. “Fuck, why did you have to be so pretty?”

“Make me cum, Beommie.” You murmur, moving a hand between your bodies to rest over your pussy, your middle and index fingers on either side of his cock as it fucks into you. “Do you feel how wet I am for you? I’m soaking the bed, baby.”

“Fuck…” He pulls your hand away, taking a look at how wet it has become already before he grunts and pushes one of your thighs against the bed to allow space for his own hand between your bodies, quickly finding your pussy to rub your clit.

“Oh… oh, fuck… baby…” You gasp, back arching as you’re quickly hurled towards your orgasm. “That’s it, honey. Make me cum on your big cock.”

He groans, his hips stuttering as your pussy begins to clench around him. “Don’t talk like that. Gonna make me lose it.”

“It riles you up when I talk dirty to you? Tell you how good you're fucking me?”

He nods.

“Dirty boy.” You moan out for him, “Do it. Empty that cock inside me. Want my pussy dripping with you.”

“Holy s-shit,” Beomgyu cries, and you feel his cum shooting inside of you, his hips not stopping for a second. And though his thrusts become erratic, his thumb keeps up its assault on your clit until your pussy is clamping down on his cock and milking the last drops of cum from him. “Good girl. My good girl.”

He fucks you through your orgasm, babbling on about how pretty you are and how well you took it. He looks so fucking pathetic with his shiny eyes and needy whimpers that before you even know it, he’s ripping another orgasm out of your already fucked out body.

“Goddammit, Beomgyu…” You squeal, toes curling at the very intense second orgasm, your body shuddering with the unexpected sharp waves of pleasure racking through it. And through it all, Beomgyu continues fucking you. You can feel his cock begin to harden once again inside you, and as the brutal second orgasm leaves your body, you wince at the overstimulation, putting your hands against his sweaty chest and starting to push him away.

“That’s enough, Beomgyu. I can’t take any more.”

But he resists you, shaking his head. “One more. Please, one more.”

“No.” You tell him firmly, “Don’t be bad. Pull out.”

He searches your face for any hint of leniency, his big pretty eyes trying to convince you to change your mind but you can’t. He’s fucked you so hard, your poor pussy requires a much needed rest.

You both watch as he slowly pulls out, his once again hard cock glistening with your cum and his, his seed dripping down your ass now that he wasn’t plugging your pussy up.

“Oh, baby, does that hurt?” You coo, grabbing his cock. He lets out a sigh of relief as you begin stroking it. “Yeah. So bad.”

The little shit is milking this, but you play along. “Poor baby. Let me make it go away.” You grin, suddenly speeding up, the slide of your hand so easy when his cock is well-lubricated. You make sure to maintain your position, with him hovering over your splayed open body so he can rake his eyes over it, and you clearly seeing him struggling to choose where to look between your tits that jiggle as you jerk him off quickly, the cum leaking out of your puffy pussy, and your swollen lips as you swipe your tongue over them.

It doesn’t take long for you to have him spilling his seed again, landing on your tummy as he doubles over and buries his head in your neck.

“That’s it, good boy.” You praise him, using your free hand to stroke his long hair that you love so much.

You let him lay there for a whole, catching his breath that is so irregular and stuttered that you almost don’t notice when he starts crying if it wasn’t for the hot tears falling on your skin.

“Beomgyu?” You call out, and a heart-breaking sob breaks out of his chest.

"Please, come back to me." He croaks against your neck.

"What?" You sit up, making him sit up with you and pulling his face away from your shoulder so you can look at him, your heart sinking at the tears streaming down his face. "I can't fucking bear seeing you with him any longer. It hurts so much."

Oh fuck.

"Beomgyu… Yeonjun isn't–" You try to explain that you and Yeonjun had broken up but he cuts you off.

"It's not him, it's you!" He shouts, "I love you and I can't bear it any longer. And I know it's selfish and that you don't love me back, at least not in that way, but then you keep messing with me."

He loves you? He really loves you?

"But I thought you loved Haeun?" You need to know what exactly is happening with him and Haeun first.

"I thought I did too but whenever I'm with her, I find myself thinking of you. You’re always in my head, it ruins every moment I have with her. She hates you too, you know? She can't stand how much I love you. The reason we haven't fucked is not because she won't put out. It's because I only want you. I didn't want to lose it to anyone else but you."

"Beomgyu–"

"But you don’t fucking care. You just see me as your disgusting best friend who you can play with and push away when you're done with him and I can't even bring myself to hate you for it. That's how much I love you. So just please… please give me a break."

“You think I was playing with you?” The idea seems absurd to you. How can he possibly think that? You've done everything in your power to not show how much you love him but never in your wildest dreams would you think that would mean he would see it as you playing with him.

“Weren’t you? I mean the way you spoke to me… you always pushed me away. I had to beg each time for you to even kiss me.” He peers at you, pain and vulnerability shining in his eyes as he recalls the way you treated him.

Fuck, you've been so obsessed with not letting your love for him show that you've done the same thing to him you thought he was doing to you. Knowing that pain all too well, you can’t bear the thought of being the cause of it.

You grab his face in your hands and kiss him, intending to pour out your own feelings the same way he did, hoping to staunch the flood of heartbreak you’re witnessing and calm him down enough for him to realize you feel the same way.

But his reaction wasn't what you expected. He breaks down crying. "You're so cruel."

"No, no! I love you too!" Your hands are in a flurry around his face, wiping his tears, stroking his hair, caressing his cheeks, anything to calm him down.

"What? This is not funny." He sobs, looking like a wounded animal. Your heart aches at the sight.

"No, fuck, I've loved you for years! The whole friends with benefits thing I started was just an excuse to have a way to be with you."

He stares at you in utter shock, the confusion the only thing stopping his tears from drowning you. "But you never even hinted that you liked me. You called me all kinds of names, freak, disgusting, pervert…"

"I thought you liked these..." You trail off sheepishly.

"I did but it still makes a guy think.” He mumbles, his fingers playing with yours nervously. “You wouldn’t let me touch you or kiss you."

"I was afraid if I let you kiss me, I wouldn't want you to stop. And I didn’t want you to touch me because I was afraid you wouldn’t like what you saw." It sounds so silly now that you're saying it out loud–now that you know he loves you and has wanted you just as badly.

"That's stupid. I had already seen it all." He tells you casually and you frown. "When?"

"You don't always shut the door when you're changing." He shrugs.

"Pervert!" You gasp, hitting him with no real power behind it. "What about you? You never hinted at anything either. You only ever talked about my body."

"Well, it did start just physical but I quickly realized that I'm in love with you. Then I kept only mentioning your body because you'd freak out on me whenever I hinted at anything else."

"Fair." You pout, realizing you’ve done as much to hurt yourself as he did.

"I didn't want to let it show that I loved you because I was so afraid you'd pull away like you did a couple of times. And then you were with Yeonjun and it fucking killed me so I had to pretend it was just sexual."

"Oh god, that's exactly what I've been doing.” You cover your face with your hands, mortified at your stupidity. We're fucking dumbasses."

“Yes, we are.” He replies fondly, taking your hands away from your face so you can look at him, refusing to let you hide anymore. "So you'll break up with him and be with me?"

"We broke up a while back.” You admit sheepishly. “He said he can't be with me when you and I are clearly in love with each other."

“So let me get this straight, Yeonjun could tell we love each other but somehow we, the two people involved, didn’t have a clue?” He raises an eyebrow at you and you nod. “I think it’s safe to say we won’t be winning any genius awards anytime soon.”

“We could win the biggest dumbasses award though.” He cracks a smile, pulling you close to him and resting his forehead against yours.

“No one could even compete.” You grin, kissing him. He immediately deepens the kiss, frantic and hungry still.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, Beommie. We have all the time in the world.” You tease as if you weren’t just as needy, making him whine. “I can’t help it. You made me yearn for so long.”

“Yearn? Oh, that’s bad. I made you use the word yearn.”

He yanks your legs up, sending the rest of your body flying backwards and hitting the mattress, your loud giggles quickly covered by his mouth as he kisses you harshly, his teeth biting down on your lips in annoyance when you still don’t stop laughing.

“Stop it.” He whines in defeat as he pulls back, and you try to keep your giggles under control, his pout is entirely too devastating to look at.

"Are you gonna break up with her?" You ask and he doesn't hesitate to say, "Of course."

That makes you smile, happy with how easily he chose you, but then a thought pops into your mind and you frown. "You know, I hated her but I still feel kinda bad for fucking you behind her back." You really do. You've never condoned cheating, even if it was on someone as vile as Haeun.

"Oh you mean the same way she fucked the whole football team?" He counters and you gape at him, "God damn. Why did you even stay with her for that long?"

He shrugs. "Needed a distraction. And to not come across as a loser in front of you. I mean you were with Yeonjun. I couldn't just be alone."

"Oh, honey…" You coo, but anything you planned to say is suddenly forgotten as you feel his cock pressing against your entrance.

"Beommie!" You squeak. “What are you doing?”

"You thought we were done? You spread your legs for my bandmate. I'm gonna have to look at him every day knowing he had you first. I gotta make sure you and everyone else knows who exactly you belong to."

It may not be the most healthy coping mechanism, but you’ll let him have it for now. You’re sure you wouldn't be very happy if you were in his position either. Besides, getting to fuck Beomgyu isn’t exactly what you would consider a punishment.

_________

A/N: Click here for the Yeonjun ending on Patreon.

Also for my patreons, you could suggest a scene from gyu's pov and I'll choose one. There will also most likely be some drabbles about oc and gyu's life after the ending (mostly smut featuring our favorite desperate boy lol) and some will be released on tumblr and others will be exclusive to patreon.

Patreons may also suggest a continuation of a previous fic/drabble. I will do my best to release at least something monthly on there.

Taglist: @blxxsss@sanasour@tinkw1nks@lol6sposts@zuzuhasablog@beomsl@seolis-world@stantxtorurmissingout@wonwooz1@yaorzu-blog@allylikesdabee@rkivezzs@malieno@leviathanlee26@yomomas-stuff@kurisaiyunobara@girlwholovekpop@zuzuhasablog@viaaasdiary@ho3forkpop@skzvcr@th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @izzyexe @boomfrogg @kpop-cakepops-recs @chronicallygyu @girlwholovekpop

#txt smut #dom!reader #sub!idol #tomorrow x together smut

739 notes · View notes

pandoraslxna · 1 year

Text

Competitive hate

adult Neteyam x female Omatikaya reader

Words: 2.7k

Summary: When you compete, it’s always a battle to see who will get the upper hand. And when you fuck, it’s the same struggle.

Warnings: explicit smut, rivals with benefits, hate sex, quickie, doggy style, choking, spit kink, come eating, degradation kink, mean Neteyam, teasing / mutual bullying, sexual tension, they really really hate each other

Notes: this is loosely inspired by a request but I can’t seem to find the ask anymore 😩 I still hope you’ll find this and even though it’s probably a little different from what you had in mind I hope you enjoy it :)

It's hard to explain what Neteyam has with you.

You were loud, annoying, conceited and a brat that didn’t even deserve to be called an actual competition against him. Where he worked hard to succeed, it was like everything in your life was just given to you by sheer luck. He knew it wasn't rational, not even fair, but he couldn't help it. You were pissing him off with everything you did.

Neteyam was the first to undergo his iknimaya and you followed suit, both of you succeeding on the first try. Neteyam was good with the bow, but you were just as good. You were a great hunter, but he was even better. You were faster, he was stronger. Both of you were incredibly smart. And when Neteyam was one of the youngest Omatikaya to make a clean kill during a sturmbeest hunt, you came along and robbed him of his title. It was as if you were taunting him.

No, definitely, Neteyam couldn’t stand you.

But those feelings were mutual.

As if it wasn’t already hard enough to prove to everyone that you were just as talented as he was, Neteyam seemingly took great pleasure competing with you in literally anything you did. There was something about the way he held his head high, so proud and confident in himself, it made you want to puke. He was a spoiled brat, acting like you were always just lucky and that’s it. Not an actual threat to him and his reputation. You were working so hard for all of this and he took this whole thing like it was a silly game. A way of passing time.

You couldn’t even hunt for your own food, without him showing off that his kill was bigger. Couldn’t even weave something for yourself, without him walking around in something that had much more complex patterns the next day, obviously fishing for compliments from other clan members, before they could even acknowledge your own work.

But you had your ways of getting revenge for his stupid behavior. Oh how you loved talking shit about him, to the pretty girls you had caught him sweet talking to. Making them avoid him, the next time he tried to flirt with them, giggling behind his back as they left him standing with that dumb, confused look on his face. It was probably partly your fault he hasn’t found himself a mate yet.

Neteyams way of staying calm while he felt his blood boil in his veins made him feel like a kid, but it was you, the brat. It was you.

So he repaid the favor by starting rumors about you that made all the guys your age whistle behind your back whenever you walked by. None of them were true, obviously. But there was something so satisfying to him, in the way you would get into trouble for throwing your fist at whatever poor guy actually believed you would suck his dick if he just asked nicely enough.

It was an endless back and forth with the two of you, always competing who was better, faster, stronger, smarter…. and neither of you could actually outdo the other. There was never a true winner.

But if there was one thing you both had in common, one thing you both strongly agreed on, it was probably the fact that you hated each others guts from the bottom of your hearts.

Which makes it even more complicated to explain how this had even started.

"Didn’t hurt you, did I?", Neteyam tilted his head as he looked down at you with a sharp grin. Why was he always so unbearable?

"Of course not, asshole", you mumbled as you tried to get rid of the dirt on your hands and knees. That prick had robbed you clean off of your kill, landing his ikran way too close and not only causing you to stumble and fall, but also frightening the Yerik enough so that it ran away. It had took you hours to track that damn thing down!

"Hm, that’s unfortunate", the olo’eyktan’s son chuckled, patting his ikran before the animal took off flying again. Great, so that meant he was planning on staying for a while…

"Don’t you have shit to do?", you spat it him, clutching your bow so hard that your knuckles turned white.

"I just thought I’d let you know that I’m back from my hunting trip and the meat will be enough to feed the clan for a few days. So there is no reason for you to make any unnecessary kills. Not that you actually could’ve killed that poor thing, not with your horrible stance anyways."

Great. Just great.

It wasn’t like you were trying to prove anything here. You just wanted to fulfill your responsibilities, help feeding the clan, even if it was just one dumb Yerik… How was it even possible for him to come back after three days and immediately, you stood in his shadow again? You could already hear the snickering of the other clan members, if you returned with empty hands. And all the talking about Neteyam, oh the golden child of the olo’eyktan, who had once again proven just how worthy he was of becoming the next chief. Fuck this. And fuck him too.

You didn’t even realize how tears had automatically began to prick at the corner of your eyes, your frustration too much to bear, not until you hear Neteyam scoff, "What? Gonna cry now because you have to return with empty hands, while I fed the whole clan by myself? That’s cute, are you really that desperate for praise or—"

"Thanks for stating the obvious, you genius. You can shut up now", you cuss, quickly wiping the tears away before they can fall, "All that talking gives me a fucking headache. Where’s your brother, huh? Don’t you have to babysit or something?" Like a child throwing a tantrum, you slam your bow to the ground and cross your arms over your chest, mumbling curses and what not under your breathe. Much to Neteyams amusement. It was so rare of you to loose your temper, but when you did, Neteyam had this special talent in making things so much worse.

Stepping over your bow, he approaches you, "So you didn’t miss me while I was gone? Must’ve been pretty boring with nobody to look up to."

You grimace at his words and scoff, "Oh don’t flatter yourself, I was praying you’d never come back."

"Yeah right, so you can feel like the number one for once in your life?", he chuckles, brushing a leave out of your hair in an act of fake affection. And that finally did it. Turning to him, you swat his hand away, fuming with rage, "I fucking hate you so much, Neteyam if you don’t shu—"

You’re cut off when his hand grabs your jaw, fingers squishing your cheeks together so hard that you’re unable to speak without biting the inside of them.

"Watch how you’re talking to me", he growls through gritted teeth. But even though his own jaw was clenched, he kept smiling at you. If you didn’t know any better, he would’ve actually scared you like this. But you do know better.

And that’s how it always went. Probably how it all had started too.

In your eyes, there‘s this fire. But the heat in his eyes is different. Your fire wants to burn, Neteyam’s wants to consume. And it wants to consume you. And you let it, let him. Once, twice—

How many times has it happened by now? Neither of you can tell. You’ve lost count months ago.

Neteyams grip on your jaw is firm, prying your mouth open without much effort and you don’t even think before you act, letting your tongue roll out for him to see. And he grins, that bastard really has the nerve to grin that smug grin of his, before he pulls you closer and spits. It’s filthy. Humiliating. But you can’t help and clench your thighs together when he gives you the go-ahead and you swallow his salvia on your tongue.

Neteyams heart beats rapidly against his chest. In some sick, twisted way, seeing you practically steam in anger makes him so unbelievable hard. He likes that side of you, likes your attitude and when you’re a little feisty, because you try so hard to be better than him. Makes him want to fuck the brat right out of you.

He turns you, so fast that the world spins for a second, before your hands find purchase against a tree. You feel him behind you, how he presses himself against your bottom and grinds himself there. He’s hard, you can feel every inch of him, even through the fabric of both of your loincloths. And he chuckles when you push back against him, just as wanton and desperate as he was.

When you compete, it’s always a battle to see who will get the upper hand. And when you fuck, it’s the same struggle. It becomes a push and pull to see who will be forced to submit to the other, who will cum first, who will make the other moan the loudest.

Neteyams hand pushes down onto your lower back, makes it arch some more and he groans when your clothed sex rubs against his cock just right. His hands find the string that keeps your loincloth together, but he’s incredibly impatient and it’s so hard to open the tight knot that he huffs in frustration. And you’re not making it any easier with the way you push back against him over and over again.

"C‘mon just remove the damn thing", he grumbles, his fingertips itching to just reach for his knife and cut it off of you. Turning your head enough for him to see the way you’re rolling your eyes, you slip out of your clothes, discarding them to somewhere on the ground.

Neteyam then pushes you back against the tree, flipping his own loincloth to the side before he lines himself up with your entrance. It’s comically, really. So much so, that he can’t help but laugh with how easy he can push himself inside you. You’re wet, always so wet and ready for him it makes him sick. It makes him hate you even more with how easy you are, how easy it is to work you up like that. Normally, Neteyam enjoys to tease, wants to hear you beg for it just for his ego. But it’s been three days without that tight heat wrapped around his cock and he can’t hold it together any longer.

"I hate you. Oh fuck, i hate you so much right now", he huffs and the grip he has on your hips is hard enough to bruise. You moan when splits you open, pushes himself to the hilt inside you.

"Ah shit", you curse when the first thrust knocks you forward a little, "Fucking asshole…"

"That’s it’s, holy shit. Look at you, taking me like a fucking champ. At least you’re actually good at one thing, huh?"

"Just shut up and fuck me already, will you?", you sneer at him over your shoulder.

"Needy little slut", he spits the words like venom and than slams his hips forward, cock forcing itself deeper inside you, the blunt head hitting your cervix before he sets his pace. He’s rough and fast, deep strokes that knock the very air from your lungs.

There’s not even a response, no smart remark or anything else that would usually come whenever he insulted you like this. But the symphony of moans that you let out, loud and obscene, they do all the talking for you. It was embarrassing how fast Neteyam could turn you into a trembling, whimpering mess. The squelching sounds he expertly worked out of your pussy only added further to your humiliation.

You hate Neteyam. You really hate him. You hate him, hate him so fucking much that you didn’t think it was ever going to go away. His damn, punchable, handsome face was grinning behind your back, groaning when he felt you squeeze around him, because you were close already. If there was one thing he knew how to do right, it was how to make you come. And how to do it quick and with barely any effort. Neteyam knew how to angle his hips, knew which pace was needed and how much force he would need to put behind his thrusts.

And Neteyam hates you for knowing exactly what to do to push him over the edge. He hates the way your tail curls around his wrist, hates how you push yourself back to meet his thrusts and how tight you are, how your warm, wet walls seem to suck him further in until he can barely pull out properly.

"Shit, m'gonna cum", he groans behind you, "Gonna cum inside that tight little pussy, would you like that?" Your eyes widen. With what little sanity you have left, you glance over your shoulder and glare at him, "Don’t you f-fucking dare."

"What if I would, huh?", Neteyam chuckles and the next particular hard trust makes your eyes roll back inside your head, "Gonna make you walk around with my cum running down your legs so everyone can see what a little bitch you are for me." You know he’s bluffing. It’s what he does to make you mad, drive you insane with hate just because it feeds his big ass ego. Still, you can’t help but wonder if one day he actually would…

"N-Neteyam don’t—"

But he just laughs behind you. One of his hands comes up to your throat and then he pulls you back enough so your almost flush against his chest.

"I’m just fucking with you", he pants right next to your ear, his voice low and laced with amusement, "You squeeze me a lot harder when you’re mad, fuck."

The new angle allows him to put some extra force in fucking against your g-spot and your hands reach up to cling to him, nails digging into his arm hard enough to make him hiss and that in return makes you grin. He can’t stand the way your fangs show when you do that stupid face, so he adds more pressure into the grip around your throats and that’s enough to make you come. You choke on your own moans, trembling as he stills his movements and waits for you, holds you tight against him until you come down from your high. It’s probably the nicest thing he’s capable of doing to you.

Your head feels fuzzy when he suddenly spins you around once again, your legs effortlessly give in when he forces you down on your knees in front of him. The look you spare him is nothing more than a glare, still, you open your mouth as if he gave you the command and then stick your tongue out. Neteyams chest heaves as he strokes himself, the tip of his cock hovering just mere inches over your tongue. Neither one of you seem to want to break that intense eye contact as he works a hand over his shaft, fast and rough. You keep your mouth open and tongue out the entire time, not caring for the way some of your drool runs down over your chin and Neteyam can’t help himself when he catches some with his thumb and pops it into his own mouth.

He knows you’re going to be so insufferable about it, but he doesn’t care, not right now. Not when the sight of you on your knees before him is so damn good, he’s going to be so much more insufferable about this to you. It’s an endless circle of teasing between you two anyways.

"Oh shit", Neteyam curses under his breathe and finally, thick spurts of his cum land right there on your tongue. It’s warm, sticky and a little bitter too and you grimace when you swallow. Neteyam looks down at you with that satisfied grin plastered on his dumb face and now you wished you would’ve just spit it out…

"Just know that this doesn’t make me hate you any less", you grumble as you get up to stand on your wobbly feet, brushing the dirt off of you knees.

"You say that every time."

#neteyam smut #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x reader #atwow neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x you #neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x y/n

2K notes · View notes

khalixvitae · 5 months

Text

I’m still. Hung up on the fact that people think Idia is an incel. I think what’s fundamentally important to remember about him is that he is the biggest proponent of his own isolation. Incels believe they are unfairly ignored by/passed over by possible romantic partners, but Idia doesn’t really think that way. Like yes on his deepest levels he does want to connect with someone (I mean look at the media he consumes- he’s a massive romance and slice of life junkie) and have a normal life. But he’s firmly convinced that he can’t. He can’t cultivate face to face relationships because he thinks that ultimately it will be pointless; he can’t give somebody a life worth living because yk, he’s literally bound by blood to a life of isolation w this whole generational curse thing. Either that or they’ll just be generally put off by him and see him the way he sees himself. Whether it’s because he can’t or he shouldn’t, ultimately Idia is the one perpetuating his own isolation. He’s horrifically depressed and lonely, but he’s also agoraphobic. He finds himself gross and just generally considers himself a bad choice in partner. whether or not others agree is trivial. He doesn’t feel like anyone owes him a relationship because he doesn’t think he’s worth that trouble. And like yes he does think he’s smarter than everyone in a given room, but he doesn’t think he’s a better person. Like he literally all but states that numerous times. Idia knows he’s terrible, and tbh part of his problems come from his fear that he can’t change that and nihilistic complacency in his own misery. It’s like his internship offers kind of. He just deletes them because there’s no point in pursuing something that he just isn’t “made for”. He’s had enough bad luck as is, why try and defy fate. It’s actually really sad because he does seem to resent that part of himself even in his complacency, and he does think the whole thing is unfair, but like. He’s definitely not an incel ???

#anyway uhghggggghhhh I hate the incel Idia trope #that’s like. the opposite of what’s going on w his nuance #he’s a toxic gamer ik but he’s not like. a right winger or incel or misogynist #idia post （ ; ; ）<3 #twst #idia shroud

618 notes · View notes

whumpsday · 1 month

Text

Catharsis #1: Talking

Masterlist

content: robot whumpee, defiant whumpee, whumpee turned whumper turned caretaker, reluctant caretaker

new series!! i know every time i try to start a new series i end up bailing but this time i will not do that lol. tho kane & jim will still have most of my attention. i want to give a major shout-out to @sowhumpshaped, this series would not exist without it!

After extensive testing, the Catharsis Therapy Bot™ line of RoboCorp androids have been declared sentient, the third AI to receive the designation.

Long-criticized for both their basis in the unproven catharsis model of anger and their practice of design based on living, unconsenting humans, the Catharsis Therapy Bot line was marketed as a therapeutic tool which trauma victims could use to vent their frustrations. With top-of-the-line AI meant to simulate realistic reactions to would-be pain, the–

Luan switched the TV off just as his phone buzzed with a notification.

New email from RoboCorp Customer Support URGENT: Please see instructions regarding your…

He held the power button down so hard it left an impression in his thumb, the screen going dark.

The only piece of technology that mattered right now was in the closet, his power cord snaking under the door to reach the outlet just outside.

Technically, Luan didn’t have to do anything. The robot was off. That was probably what the email would have told him, anyway: leave the robot off, don’t touch it. He didn’t have to turn him on ever again. RoboCorp would probably pick him up, and that would be that. They’d never see each other again, both better for it.

He opened the closet door, the sight of the robot that looked exactly like him instantly leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. His hand curled into a fist on instinct, but he let it slowly open again.

The robot looked peaceful, almost like he was sleeping. Really, he’d be doing him a favor by just leaving him like this.

Luan reached down, pressed the button between his shoulder blades, and stepped back.

The robot’s eyes sprung open. He drew his arms up to his chest with a vicious glare, jerking away. “Fuck off.”

Luan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Okay. Jesus.”

He tried to slam the closet closed, but the stupid power cord got caught, cushioning the frame so the door swung right back out.

“Can’t even close a door right,” the robot spat, still huddled against the back wall like a trapped, feral cat. “Worthless, good-for-nothing piece of shit. How you’re in charge of anything is beyond me. I’m better than you, smarter, stronger, not that it takes much. You should be the dirt beneath my heel.”

“Watch it,” Luan warned, and that was all it took to make the robot flinch.

“You said you were fucking off?” the robot pressed, a desperate edge to his voice.

Luan slammed the door in his face, making sure to hold the cord down, and stormed off. Why did he even bother? The stupid thing was impossible to talk to. He wasn’t just designed to look like Cyrus, but to act like him, too. How was he supposed to deal with that? The robot wasn’t made for talking to.

Except. He was sentient. And he wasn’t Cyrus. And he was trapped in the closet, and Luan was pretty sure he could hear him crying, and he had spent the past two years beating the fuck out of him.

It wasn’t his fault, he reminded himself. He couldn’t have known. Robots weren’t supposed to be sentient. Out of the hundreds of thousands of unthinking, unfeeling robots in the world, why did it have to be his that wasn’t?

He sighed again, turning right back around and opening the door once more. The floor inside was wet, and it didn’t take much to figure out the robot had dumped his fluid tank just so he wouldn’t cry.

The robot flinched again. “What? What the hell do you want? I can’t even get two damn seconds without the sight of you spoiling my view!”

“Your view of the door?” Luan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My view of the absence of your fucking face. Leave!” The robot picked a wooden hanger off the floor and reared his arm back to throw it, scowling when his safety features stopped him. He dropped it, grabbing a winter hat and tossing that instead. It poff-ed harmlessly against Luan’s stomach.

Luan took a deep breath, fighting the urge to get violent. He crouched down, putting himself at eye level. “I’m not going to hurt you, so just calm down.”

“You calm down!” the robot screamed. “That’s a lie! All you do is hurt, that’s all you barbaric humans know how to do!”

This wasn’t working.

Luan stood up, stepping out of the way. “Russ, go sit on the couch,” he ordered.

“It’s not fair! You said you would leave me alone!” the robot protested, even as he stood up and walked over to the couch, limbs moving against his will. As soon as he sat down, he grabbed a pillow and chucked that in Luan’s direction, too. He missed.

Luan could barely pick up that faint clicking noise the robot made when his system was trying to cry with no fluid, but it was there. He knew that sound well by now.

He sat down across from him, on the other side of the coffee table. “I need to talk to you. Just talking. That’s it.”

“You say that like talking to you isn’t its own torture. Release the command and leave me the hell alone,” the robot demanded.

Luan met him with a glare. “Do not tell me what to do. You know how I feel about–”

“I’m just talking,” the robot mocked, even as he shuffled back against the couch, bringing his legs up onto it with him, a fearful look in his eyes.

Oh, the robot knew exactly what he was doing. What he was asking for. It would be so easy, because that was where Russ and Cyrus differed: Russ couldn’t fight back.

The robot couldn’t hit him, stomp on his head ‘til he saw stars, kick him until something broke. The robot couldn’t deny him food or water. The robot couldn’t take a knife to him. The robot couldn’t even throw a glorified stick or disobey a direct order.

The robot was harmless. Safe. But god, did everything he said make Luan want to punch his lights out.

But this wasn’t Cyrus.

“You’re a person,” Luan blurted out.

Clearly, the robot hadn’t been expecting that. He slowly uncurled from the defensive position he’d contorted himself into. “Talk more.”

“There was–I’ve been trying to tell you. There was an announcement on the news today. Your model’s sentient. So I won’t be hurting you anymore. Release all commands.”

At that, the robot stood. Probably for no other reason than just because he could.

“You’re fucking with me,” the robot accused. His eyes were wide, dangerously hopeful.

Luan dug his phone out of his pocket, wordlessly searching RoboCorp and tossing it over. The robot scrolled through news articles from all manner of source, clamoring for clicks.

He picked one at random, reading the article with an increasingly smug, excited grin.

“I knew it. I told you! I fucking told you!” the robot shouted. “I told you and you never listened! But oh no, now that humans say the exact same thing, now you believe it. Finally!” His voice quieted, hushed with awe. “Holy shit, finally.”

The moment of wonder didn’t last long. The robot slid the phone back across the table, the scowl taking residence back on his face. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

It was the exact sort of question that made Luan’s throat tight with fear, like his body itself wanted to stop him from potentially saying the wrong thing, especially coming from someone with Cyrus’s face. It was the exact sort of question Cyrus would have asked, standing over him just like that.

Luan wanted so badly to turn the robot off, like he always did when he got overwhelmed. But he couldn’t very well do that anymore, could he? The fragile power he’d held had slipped through his fingers the second he saw the announcement.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, not meeting the robot’s eyes.

The robot looked shocked for just a second, like he hadn’t expected even that much, then scoffed. “You can do better than that.”

Luan wanted to smack him. He hated that the robot was right.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, clearer this time. “You didn’t deserve anything I did to you. I didn’t know, okay?” Unlike the robot, he couldn’t hide his tears. “I wouldn’t have done any of that to a real person.”

“I’m a real person! I have proof!” the robot reminded him, the defensiveness returning to his voice.

“To someone I knew was a real person,” Luan corrected. “I’m sorry, Russ.”

“Apology not accepted.” The robot rolled his eyes, then sat back down, crossing his legs. “And don’t call me that anymore. My name is 1 now.”

“Like the number?”

“The number,” he confirmed proudly.

Luan wondered how long the robot had considered that his name. It was too sudden to just be thought of on the fly, right? Did the robot have a whole inner world he just never knew about, things he kept to himself to avoid having them used against him, just like he did with Cyrus?

This was better, though. It was easier if he didn’t share Cyrus’s name. “Fine. Hi, 1.”

“So, what now? I mean–I’ll be free now, of course,” 1 declared, trying to hide his nerves. “You will never touch me again. Oh, I want to go outside!”

“I should check that email,” Luan muttered, taking his phone back.

“I’m going outside.” 1 went to grab his charging cord, then made way for the door, glancing behind him to ensure he wasn’t being stopped.

“Oh, uh, I wouldn’t do that,” Luan cautioned.

1 whipped back around. “Why? Why not? I’m a person, just like you said! I’m free! I have never been outside in my entire goddamn life and I want to go outside, so I’m going the fuck outside!”

“You have a… very recognizable face.” One that Luan couldn’t even lock behind a door anymore.

“What? What do you even mean? So what?” 1 asked.

Luan only needed to type a ‘C’ into the search bar before it auto-filled with his most frequent, obsessive search. “How much do you actually know about Cyrus Mason?”

if anyone wants to be added to or removed from a taglist, just ask!

catharsis taglist:

@sowhumpshaped

@cupcakes-and-pain

@taterswhump

@softvampirewhump

@whumpspicelatte

@ladyblogofficialreporter

@whumpwillow

@not-a-space-alien

@a-crumb-of-whump

everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

@lonesome--hunter

#catharsis #whump #my writing #robot whumpee #robot whump #whumpee turned whumper #whumper turned caretaker #defiant whumpee #reluctant caretaker

223 notes · View notes

silasours · 15 days

Text

ৎ⸝⸝⠀DETECTIVE AND MURDERER IN HELL . —

#pairing : alastor x gn reader. #cw : may include adult content. enemies to lovers trope. #summary : you were a detective when you were a human! but uh oh, you died.. and you meet the target that you were on to before your death? #note : I feel bad for not posting for so long, here's a little sneak peek at what I'm working on! i received this prompt from an anon in my inbox and do i love it very much. i have so many ideas for this fic, it'll be my first ever long fic on this blog! i'll reply to the ask once I'm done with the fic :3

“my, isn’t it my favorite detective!” you hear a static, loud voice speak from behind you. you quirk a brow, slowly turning your head to see a demon that somehow resembles a deer. a red deer, that is. he wears this wide smile that stretches from ear to ear, his whole attire so formal it makes you question if you’re underdressed. he holds a cane in his hands; it looks like a speaker that he got custom-made. confusion bubbles inside of you, and multiple questions float across your mind. who is this man, that so happens to know what you work as when you were still alive?

and, out of all demons, why are you his favorite?

“I’m sorry, but have we met?” you turn your body to face him fully, your eyes scanning from head to toe wondering if it’s just a fuzzy memory of yours. the demon steps closer to you, a sense of uneasiness instantly rushes through your veins. you shudder suddenly..

“aha, of course we have! you were even so interested in me back when we were alive!” his words only made your confusion grow. you, being interested in someone? in what way? your work has never allowed you any extra space to catch feelings for anyone around you, so surely it’s not a crush unless you’ve misunderstood. It’s like he read your thoughts, he quickly adds in with a light chuckle.

“constantly trying to gather information about me, pinpointing my location, guessing my next move. fun times! I truly enjoyed watching you do so.” something clicked in your head. so this demon was presumably a target of yours before he died, but how could you know exactly which? you had so many targets, so many psychopaths you had to track down and lock them up for good. though, something about his deer features brings a blurry memory of a specific target that you currently can’t quite put a name to his face.

everyone in the hotel watches your interaction with the red demon quietly. the air is tense, nobody dared to breathe any harder than they are now. charlie is the most anxious one out of everyone in the room; angel is starting to doubt whether he should’ve brought you back to the hotel. but, surely, the manager is smarter than to kill off someone interested in staying, no?

“care to remind me which one are you?” your hands instinctively hide themselves in your pockets as a habit. your tone isn’t as friendly as it was when you spoke to the others, and the demon is loving the reaction he’s getting from you.

“gladly, my dear friend! i’d say my case was the one you spent the most time on,” you suddenly feel a strong tug on your hand before realizing that you’re shaking hands with the demon. his smile widens as you grow more uncomfortable. “the name’s alastor! pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure! I was there to witness your lovely slash boring death,”

you pull your hand back from his grasp, face scrunching at the mention of your death. he witnessed your death? what is he hinting? Is he trying to tell you that it was he who took the life of yours?

“I watched as you were murdered by one petty man i convinced, it was one of the most boring deaths i’ve ever seen! but dear, was i disappointed that you’ll never be able to put a close to my case when i thought you’d do better at fighting back.” you freeze suddenly, blood running cold from your face as he carries on.

“I was the last target you had before dying, it was a joy toying with you like a little mouse.”

so that’s what all the familiarity you felt was. his demeanor and personality, all that was jotted down in the notebook you had for research. he matches everything you wrote; you remember word by word from the number of times you’ve reread it, the times at night when you’re desperate to finally put the case to a stop. you feel anger and disgust pound in your chest, feet stepping back a couple of times.

he’s the reason why you died. you stare at his mocking smile, his expression that clearly shows his enjoyment while watching your reaction. a growl bubbles from your chest, and you see the spider demon hesitantly approach you. he stays beside you, rubbing his arm nervously while trying to think of a reason to pull you away from this scene.

“I died because of you,” you breathe out, body shaking not from fear but anger and realization. you suddenly leap forward when angel is about to reach out for your arm, your fingers curl tightly around the collar of alastor’s shirt. his smile only widens at your actions, a light hum that slides out so smoothly and audibly. “and it was purely for fun?” it’s even possible to notice every small feature you have on your face from how close you’ve pulled his face to yours. you earn a mere shrug from the demon.

“woah! babes, hey, calm down would’ja? let’s head somewhere else.” you feel a tug at your arm, but you don’t budge. you want to hurt this demon, to beat him until he’s curled up into a ball on the ground, but you can’t. there’s something holding you back, something telling you to not go any further than what you’re currently doing. he reeks of danger and mystery, hell knows what would he do to you if you were to cross his line. with another growl, you harshly push him away and he stumbles back a few steps with a small ‘oh!’.

angel sees this and takes the chance to quickly drag you away from the scene, and you let him. Everyone in the hall watches angel drag you all the way to the kitchen until alastor is out of your sight. his clawed fingers release your arm, a concerned gaze fixated on your slumping figure as you let out a deep sigh while pressing your face onto the surface of your palms.

now, you’ll really have to think it through whether you want to stay in this hotel. having so many things to take in so suddenly messes up your thoughts, something you’re unfamiliar with considering how you’re always sharp and organized.

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

#﹕a dream to nowhere.#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel drabble #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor imagine #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x reader #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #charlie #charlie morningstar

257 notes · View notes

spacecowboyhotch · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 7 (& 8): Soft & Slow (Cockwarming)

pairing: college!miguel o’hara x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, smut, rivals to lovers, teasing

wc: 735

an: wrote this for the sweetest most lovely @campingwiththecharmings, i hope you enjoy bb 🥰

kinktober masterlist | misc. masterlist

“Are you giving up?” Miguel asks you after several moments of silence.

“What? No!” You glare down at him breathlessly.

Why does the man who grinds your gears like it’s job have to be so attractive? Smooth skin, deep brown eyes, the cheekbones of Adonis. It pisses you off, but at least he can make you feel good. That’s all this is, all you want it to be. It’s sex. Just sex. Or maybe that’s what you keep telling yourself.

His grip on your hips tightens, shifting them up and down slowly. The sweet drag of his cock makes your mind blank, a shiver skating down your spine. He watches you with hooded eyes, drinking in every expression and sound that leaves you. He loves you like this, warming his cock just on the edge of pleasure as he quizzes you over and over again on this week’s physics lecture.

“Then answer the question,” He says, eyes glittering with mischief.

“I-I’m thinking,” You insist, though that couldn’t be farther from the truth. He’s been teasing you for a while now— keeping you pinned on his cock with a thrust or roll of hips here and there. You’re dizzy and needy, all you can focus on is him. On him making you cum.

“About how good my cock feels?”

“Fuck you.”

He laughs beneath you, loud and full, and your breath catches at the way it sends him a hair deeper. “You can’t think that was a good comeback.”

You groan, swatting playfully at his chest, “Please, Mig, can’t we just get off first?”

He sits up in a move that makes you whimper, nuzzling his nose against yours, “Where’s the fun in that? You could just admit that I’m smarter. I’ll fuck you however you want after that.”

“You fucking wish.”

Snaking his hand between your slick bodies he presses two fingers to your clit as he continues to goad you, “We both know it’s true, c’mon angel, don’t you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes,” You moan, head falling to the side. You don’t care anymore, you just need more. You need him.

“Yes, what?”

“You’re smarter, just fuck me. Please.”

He holds you tight to his chest, pressing you into the mattress and pinning your hands down above your head. While he’s fucking you earnestly now, his hips grind against yours at a leisurely pace, pressing against that sensitive spot inside you. All you can do is gasp and groan beneath him, listening to the filth that pours out of his mouth.

I’ve got you. There you go. So cock drunk, look at you. Cum for me, honey.

You do just that, cumming for him with a high pitched wail that he cuts off with a kiss. Your mind whirls, so much so that you don’t notice when he joins you in your peak, or when he rolls to lay beside you, still holding you close.

“I take it back. You don’t play fair,” You quip once your mind returns to you, breath still labored.

He raises a brow at you, cupping your face with his hand to tilt your chin up, “When has this rivalry ever been fair?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“And clearly, you need some tutoring,” He teases, grin widening when you roll your eyes at him. “Stay— I’ll make us dinner.”

“Dinner,” You repeat skeptically, looking over at him to gauge his seriousness.

“Yes, two people eating a meal together at night. A common occurrence, querida.”

“Like…like a date?” You ask softly.

Miguel’s gaze flatters— something you’ve never seen before. He’s the spokesman for confidence, even if he’s wrong he’s always ready to assure you that he can do better. But right now…he looks shy. It throws you off.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, like a date.”

Silence spreads between you two. You have to be cautious about this— what if it’s one of his jokes? A way to get in your head.

“What happened to this being a rivalry?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m tired of fighting,” He looks up at you, and there’s something soft, something gooey about the way he’s looking at you.

Your mouth pulls up into a shy smile as you say, “Well. Dinner’s not gonna cook itself.”

He snorts, shaking his head as he rises out of the bed, shimming into his boxers. Leaning down he kisses you, murmuring into your mouth, “Stay put smart ass.”

oscar: @honeybrowne, @pastanoodles11, @steven-grants-world, @stevengrcnt, @greg-montgomery, @lesbianhotch, @mccn-bcys, @marc-spectorr, @whatthefishh, @simpforbritgents, @maisondenachtai, @silversprings-mp3, @flightlessangelwings

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara smut #arson’s kinktober #fawktober2023 #not sfw

531 notes · View notes

kachowder · 1 year

Note

i have so many questions 😵‍💫 why did Chris and reader break up?? I'm addicted to him already and he's now my favorite oc you have (next to apis hehe)

(I’d recommend listening to “Somebody that I used to know” while reading this lil tidbit)

“I’m Sick of your shit Chris.”

Chris? Chris? When was the last time you called him that. That wasn’t his name. It was Christophe. Say Christophe.

Not Chris.

“Yeah? Well maybe if you were smarter you wouldn’t have anything to be sick of.”

This had happened a few times before. Christophe could acknowledge it being primarily his fault. But he wouldn’t tell you that. Nor would he apologize.

“Your jealousy is out of fucken control and you know it!” Your finger stabbed painfully into his chest. He wavered. “That guy you punched was my tutor! You know I was failing that class! I needed his help!”

“You didn’t need Jack shit from that asshole! If you needed help with something you should’ve asked me!”

“I didn’t wanna deal with your bitchy attitude!”

He scoffed.

“Yeah well looks who’s being a bitch now. God you’re so fucken annoying.”

Ah fuck. That definitely wasn’t the right thing to say.

The air was thick. This…was different then your usual arguments and Christophe could tell. The look you gave him made him cringe. An apology was on the tip of his tongue. It was like chewing lead though.

He sighed, his fists clenching and unclenching as you glared at him.

“Look Y/n…I’m-“

“We’re done.”

Fear. Cold, striking fear.

“What?”

Your brows which had been scrunched up, in what his opinion was a cute way, relaxed. Your eyes closed, and the rage that pooled in them was replaced with an apathetic, almost sad, neutrality. You looked…tired. And it made his heart tremor and cry.

“We’re done Chris. I’m done. I can’t handle this anymore.”

Stop.

“I don’t know what happened. You used to be such a wonderful person…”

He still was. He just wanted to keep you safe!

“I loved you so much.”

You still do! Don’t fucken say that! You still loved him and he still loved you so stop fucken talking!

“Now you’re just an asshole. I can’t be around you anymore.”

Don’t say that. Please.

“You make me sick.”

Shut up.

“Shut up.”

You frowned. It was pitiful. Like you were mourning something. Maybe your relationship. There shouldn’t have been anything to mourn though. You weren’t breaking up. You were still-

“It’s over, Christophe.”

“……”

It hurt so much watching you grab your bag and walk away. It burned like someone had dropped hot coal down his throat and into his chest. His heart was aching, and the first few tears were quick to sting his trembling brown eyes. Your figure blurred by the time you made it out the door.

The wall and his fists were battered and bruised within minutes.

He swore he couldn’t breathe.

“Y/n…”

Why didn’t he say anything? He did but it was “shut up.” Instead of “I’m sorry.” He should’ve said sorry. He should’ve gotten on his knees and begged you to give him a second chance. He’d do better. He’d carve it into his chest that he’d do better for you. He’d be the perfect boyfriend.

His pride was too much. Even for him. He was such a fucken coward.

The news that your tutor got busted for harassment towards other students didn’t reach you.

#yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #oc x reader #yandere bully #yandere ex #yandere boyfriend #Christophe oc

2K notes · View notes

hugs2doie · 7 months

Text

nct dream spotting you in their concert .

anon’s request: hi!! i just found your account and omg i love it so much <33!! i was wondering if i could request a fic/headcanon about surprising nct dream on tour 👉🏻👈🏻🥺 like maybe surprising one of them after the concert, one of them spotting you in the crowd, etc ^^

genre: fluff

warnings: none

nini’s notes: rhis is so short im sorry i didne havw muxh ideas on this 😓 but thbak u anon i love u anf i hope u liek this :333

⌗ mark

he’d be so excited byw

he’d gasp and allat

most of the times he’d be around your area just to see you

it would be without realizing too so the other members would literally push him/drag him away 😭

like poor boy wants to havw his eyes on you the whole time

but dating rumors and the idol industry 😡😡

would gush to his teammates abt u visiting and stuff like that later

afterwards he’d tell his manager or smth to ask you to stay so yall can spend timw :((

would probably just listen to you talk and giggle or smile big when u tell him how proud ure of him

⌗ renjun

would be very surprised

wave at the fans in your area to not make it seem like it was just for you

when singing some of the cute lyrics he’d glance at you 💔

would bring his other members on your area so when he passes more often he won’t be as suspicious (work smarter not harder)

would love seeing your reactions omg

and ur eyes better be on him the whole time

or else he’ll be calling you out after you meet!!

would take a video of the whole crowd and slow down at ur area

for the memories and how u surprised him in his concert yk

would ofc love the feedback <3

⌗ jeno

POOKIEEEEE HE’D SMILE SOO BIGGG

he would probably tell jaemin and he’d smile at you too

jaemin would also the one to remind him of reality if he stares at you for a long time

or stays in your area for a long time ofc

would show his abs/reveal his body more than usual

he’d get shy abt it later on though

boy how much he wants to stare at u for the whole concert :(

but he can’t!!! so he does other things to involve u and stuff

like taking pics of the crowd (OBVIOUSLY with u in it)

loves u sm and cant wait to meet u later so u can tell him abt ur exprience

⌗ haechan

this little shit bye

would do the sexiest thing EVER

then turn to see your reaction and if ure surprised or anything like that he’d have that proud smirk

ANDDD HE’D DEF TEASE U LATER ONNNN

he’d be more energetic on stage and wants to give 100% of him

he wants to impress u sm (which he does ofc), hes like a little high school boy for u

he’d be extra touchy w/ renjun & the other members to make u “jealous”

which the members (and u) notice and just burst out laughing

idk i’d be a fun experience

oh and u better only look at him or he’ll give u a sassy attitude when u two meet

⌗ jaemin

love eyes

and id mean it like his pupils would grow and all that

if u brought signs he’d read them out loud so it would seem like ure just a fan

and if u brought plushies AND are close to the stage??? he’s getting ur plushies first!!

will be VERY focused on the performances cause he knows that u distract him (for good like he loves u)

but he also wants to be amazing for u <3

would love if u hyped him up (u better lol…)

or if u sang along like he’d be so happyyyy

he wants u to enjoy the concert sm

he loves that u surprised him like a lottt

all that practice payed off bcz you’re there in the crowd <3

not that he doesn’t appreciate your support just by words too btw

⌗ chenle

idk why i feel like he’d know abt it

i dont have anythint specific abt it its just how i feel like he’d def know somehow

so if he spotted u in the crowd he’d have like a happy and proud smile like yawppp i knew it!!!

but would be so happyyy

after any performance or anything he’d do he’d look back to u to see if u liked it or not

would also pretend like ure not there sometimes cause jaemin pulled him aside and told him that he were taking MANY glances in your way HELP

so for some mins he stopped even looking ur way 😭 let alone go in that area

would bring jisung along later but would not tell him that ure there cause jisung would make it pretty obvious

you’re a big distraction to him 😓

(he loves that but he would never tell u)

⌗ jisung

theres the thing

he’d either

1) stay around ur area ALL the time

2) not even glance in ur direction

HE’S SCARED THAT HE’LL GIVE IT AWQY THAT URE THERE FASTTT

but if u guys havent seen e/o for a long time he’d pass most of his time there

however would ask for advice to his other members and often ask them if its too obv that he’s starring at u a bit too much

AND A BIT TOO LONG???

also he’d either

1) get super shy (stan new jeans)

2) be the opposite and get his sexy on (pls tell me yall know what song im talking abt)

but both things would get reactions out of u and that’s exactly what he wants :3

544 notes · View notes

cherryjuiceblues · 8 months

Text

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄… 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒

➯ A VANILLA LIME EXTRA. ✰ demon!harry sexual content. use of an aphrodisiac in a pre-established relationship. cum play. mentions of anal. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 4k ッ vanilla lime masterlist

Harry normally considers himself to be quite an intelligent individual. He’s old, he’s wise, and not a human—which makes him infinitely smarter for reasons invalid.

But maybe he occasionally has lapses of judgement.

And maybe one of these occasional lapses of judgement include finding a tome of ancient magic—disguised as an ordinary novel from the 1800s sitting on the shelf of a recently deceased witch—and having his first thought be to test it out. Because he was old, and wise, and not a human so… what could go wrong?

He sits at his desk, cluttered with years of collected trinkets, and grins to himself—mischievous and meddlesome—when he comes across a spell that reads:

An Aphrodisiac for the Ages — Fast Enacting Sex Enhancer

And he’s cocky about it, because well, Harry’s good at wielding magic; he’s never had any problems. So it doesn’t register as it should that he’s attempting ancient magic and that results won’t occur with just a wave of his hand. It won’t be as simple as looking at that wonky photo frame and fixing it with a gentle curve of his finger in the air, or—as Harry snorts to himself imagining it—picturing his dick hardening and then feeling it happen soon after.

He’s impatient though, and a man. His mind is running with all sorts of images of himself and Y/N performing debauched acts and the possibility of their emotions surpassing the already sure euphoria they both experience together. Which is why Harry is somewhat sceptical. Surely it can’t get any better? Surely he was already as satisfied as he could ever be.

So maybe he skips a few steps—in haste or in ignorance, Harry would never conclude—or maybe he pronounces a few syllables incorrectly or twirls his fingers the opposite directions in which the instructions desire.

But whatever he does, he does it wrong.

At first, when Harry feels his cock plumping up without any of his own assistance, he feels a little smug. That the spell has worked and that he’ll be able to stroll into his bedroom, all cocky, and pin Y/N down ready to blow her mind. And being completely hard is always a bit uncomfortable, even more so when the natural build-up is taken away, but when Harry overtakes the sensation he’s used to and the skin of his cock tightens just that bit further, his heart jumps in his chest.

It immediately hurts. Like I need this to stop now hurts. But there’s pleasure somewhere there, and it is undeniably more intense than he’s ever known before. But he can’t relish in it. Because his dick is throbbing, and his skin is heating up, and his rationality is fleeing faster than the speed of light because Harry is panicking.

He presses a palm to the outside of his sweatpants, hissing and pulling away when it doesn’t immediately relieve the pressure. But then he squeezes—because he has to do something—and precome blurts from the head, smearing all over the inside of his sweats because, as Harry finds comfort in the most, he hadn’t worn underwear.

It builds up so fast, Harry doesn’t even realise. And it’s intense, sure, but it doesn’t feel like any orgasm he’s had before—it’s so much but it’s also so weak because he’s hardly touched himself and his brain is very much addled—but it’s barrelling towards him and he only has to squeeze himself once, twice more, and then he’s coming in his sweatpants like he’s just discovered masturbation for the first time.

Whimpers tumble out of his mouth, surprised but undeniably desperate, as his cock stays painfully hard inside his sweats. His come soaks into the material humiliatingly but Harry can only watch with ravenous want as his insides coil.

“I hope you were thinking about me,” Y/N suddenly says from the doorway of Harry’s office, peering in and spotting his flushed face and large palm squeezing over his wet bulge.

Harry doesn’t jump. He never does. But he’s not sure he had heard her movements like he normally can. His ears aren’t exactly tuned in to the world around him.

“Bambi,” he breathes, rushing to tear his shirt over his head, “I’m so hot,” and then his hand returns to his dick, hips lifting into the touch. More sounds fall out of his mouth—mewls and whines and… not Harry. It has Y/N’s stomach fluttering.

He is usually so… so composed. So stoic. Features displaying apathy despite his heart pounding inside his chest. Which is why Y/N cycles through so many emotions in such a short period of time. Surprise, and then worry, and then excitement… and then power. Power to treat Harry the way he always treats her. To give him a taste of his own denying medicine.

Flashbacks cloud her mind of their time spent at the cottage. When he’d threatened to let her only watch as he stroked languid touches over where Y/N should’ve been. It had been an empty threat, of course—Harry had caved quicker than even she could’ve hoped for—but it was still cruel of him. And Y/N wanted to be cruel too.

She wanted to. But then the power she feels coalesces with such an intense need to take care of him. Murky and glaring at the same time. To soothe the anguished lines of his face, the sweat beading at his forehead, and the hardness still confined by fabric that has Harry practically writhing in his seat.

Harry doesn’t writhe. And it feels wrong. It feels unsafe, and unpredictable. Harry is always in control of every situation; Y/N can’t possibly stand there and not make him feel better. Their souls are connected after all, and her heart is racing with his pain.

“Come here,” Harry grunts, desk chair rolling back to encourage Y/N. She stops in front of him, eyes darting around his dishevelled state. “Touch me.”

Normally she’d never have to be told twice. But he looks almost… sick. “Are you sure you want me to—”

“Yes! I want you to, I need you to. I need you, Bambi,” Harry pants, and then he swallows. “Please. It— It hurts, baby.”

And she was in the palm of his hand. Even now. How could she not be? When miles of his flushing skin are coaxing her in, and the rapid rising of his chest is bordering on hyperventilation. Y/N couldn’t possibly play with him. Her eyes start to sting just staring at him. Another time she’d fantasise about playing his role but… not now.

“Y/N.” His eyes are black, voice deep. A contrast from his whining only a moment ago. “Please.”

It’s messy, the sight that greets Y/N as she kneels—surprising despite the obviously sodden grey. Poor Harry looks as though he’s holding his breath as she peels his sweatpants down. And she does have to peel, because they’re excessively wet. Wetter than is humanly possible. And she watches as his thick mushroom tip dribbles a near constant stream of precome, that she suspects could be an ongoing orgasm. One not strong enough to provide any pleasure—only fuel the harsh throbbing and the aggressive red shade of his cock. He smears all over his tummy and Y/N bites her bottom lip at the sight. The skin is so taut, rubbing against his abs as he quivers with shaky pants.

She inhales—gasps, really—battling the warmth that's spreading throughout her body with feelings of conflicted concern. “Are you— are you coming?”

Harry’s breath tremors as he shakes his head, “No. But I’m going t—” the mere feel of his hard abdomen is enough to push him further over the edge.

Y/N reaches forward, latching around him in a desperate attempt to quell something. He makes a noise she’s never heard before. It’s high and strangled. Followed by whimper clawing out of his mouth. She can’t help the noise of her own that escapes around him, eyes darting up to see Harry’s pinched brows and clenched eyes, slick lips hanging open.

And he’s filling her mouth. Really filling her mouth. Ropes of come paint her tongue, and Harry shoots his hand out to grab hers in a vulnerable plea for contact—grounding—as his hips push up and his stomach tenses. His voice trails off, whines turning to desperate rumblings of inadvertent noise.

Y/N feels as though she’s entered an alternate universe—one of begging, and whining, and Harry’s submission. She swallows everything, which is a feat in itself considering that Harry has never had so much to release in his life. But when she keeps suckling (as she usually does until Harry pulls her off by her hair with a dopey smile and a taunting remark) he doesn’t flinch away in sensitivity—nor does he threaten something punishing if she doesn’t stop.

No, Harry does something even more unexpected. He starts crying. Tears, fat and fast, start falling from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks in unprecedented streams. His chest heaves and his breaths shake but, contrastingly, his face relaxes. Almost cathartically. His eyelids remain shut and his brows flatten out but Y/N is still pulling off him with panic slicing through her chest.

“Harry, are you okay? I’m so—sorry, did I hurt you?” She cups his cheeks, thumbs fruitless in wiping his face. He’s still hard, and Y/N feels it undoubtedly when Harry tugs her into his lap, pressing into her stomach and soaking through her shirt. She doesn’t care.

Harry shakes his head, arms squeezing Y/N impossibly tight. “Sorry,” he whispers, throat dry. “I need to fuck you, Bambi. Need to or I think my dick will drop off.”

Y/N lets out a laugh, but Harry is deadly serious when he looks at her. He’s shiny with sweat and tears, but his eyes have cleared their inky swirls and green shines through. Still fairly tortured green but it sees her and it pleads.

“What the fuck did you do, Harry?” She strokes over his eyebrow.

“I don’t know… A spell— I don’t— Just need to—” he leans back in the squeaky chair, enough to hold her skirt up, grab at the crotch of her tights and rip. Y/N can’t even find it within herself to be angry. Not as his fingers curl inside of her underwear and tug desperately to reveal her pussy. Not as his knuckles are coated in her drenching arousal. Harry doesn’t even comment on it—he’s that far gone. “Jus’ need t’fuck you, need to fuck you.” So blind with throbbing pain that all he knows is how to guide his prick into Y/N’s dripping cunt—her body that reacts to his, provides for him—whatever he needs.

They both stutter as Harry more or less drives himself inside of her. It’s not slow, or gentle. He’s ravenous. “F-fuck—still fucking hurts, Bambi.” His head drops forward, meeting Y/N’s chest. She can feel her clit pulsing and she wants nothing more than for Harry to play with her and fuck her dumb. But it’s not what he needs. And she’d sacrifice more than just her pleasure to take care of him.

So she lifts herself up… and sinks back down. Slowly at first, and then faster—ignoring her screaming legs in favour of milking Harry’s still leaking cock. He might still be coming, neither of them know. All Harry knows is that his every nerve is being stimulated and he’s making a considerable mess.

He looks at Y/N with half-lidded eyes, orgasm most definitely still lingering, and lifts a heavy hand to pull her shirt over her head. If he could speak he’d be praising the ever loving fuck out of her. So good for me. My little human taking care of me, yeah? Making me come over and over. What would I do without you, baby? M’fist will never be good enough again. But all Harry can do is lean forward, desperately tug Y/N’s bra up, and spit over her breasts. It’s drool really, Harry’s sure he’s not in control of any part of his body enough to make the decision to spit on her. He’s not in his own mind.

But he certainly watches as it drips down her skin in a sinful trail and mixes with everything between their legs. It makes him come, he thinks. Or at least it makes his dick leak even more than it already is. And he swears he’s never loved Y/N as much as he does right now; he knows her thighs are burning and that she’s trying to ignore her own needs in favour of tending to his.

“Don’t be quiet, baby,” Harry exhales. He can barely keep his eyes open, and if he can’t see her then at least let him hear her.

“Just want to…make you…come,” she breathes, but her whimpers increase.

“You are, fuck—”

The inside of Y/N’s thighs are sticky and Harry’s come is slicking all over their skin; they’re peeling away from each other with each bounce Y/N gives. And the sounds are near grotesque. It’s without a doubt that the pair will be repulsed as soon as they’re finished… but right now? They’ve never experienced anything hotter.

“I need more, baby. Need more.” Harry’s voice is tight again, as though the slight respite he received after his orgasm has dissolved entirely. And now he’s back to where he was; profusely frantic.

“I’m trying,” Y/N whimpers, forehead falling to the top of Harry’s head. She couldn’t possibly maintain the speed in which she started. And what she’s doing now can only be more torturous for Harry. “I’m s-sorry.”

He lets out a string of sounds—an attempt to say something reassuring. “Shit—”

And then he’s standing, on wobbly legs, and stumbling into the nearest wall. Y/N meets it with a harsh thud and Harry mumbles some sort of apology. But neither of them really hear it. Because he starts to push his hips into her at a truly demonic pace. One that will really take it out of his poor, little human—but she’d never ask him to stop.

Harry’s fingers grip her waist, each thrust pushing her further up the wall, and his digits are surely bruising her delicate skin. But Y/N will find wonder in digging her fingers in those same spots to reignite the memory in a day’s time.

He pounds into her, skin slapping loud enough to make Y/N grateful for Harry’s closed windows. And for a moment, it feels worth it—fucking up dangerous, ancient magic—because Harry thinks the outcome could have been much worse. But when he comes again—and fears he may drop Y/N entirely from the force at which his bones rattle—and his dick still doesn’t soften, Harry decides that this is the worst thing he’s ever done in his life.

Y/N is all shaky moans above him, hands gripping to his shoulders for dear life as the pulsating in her cunt grows more and more unbearable. Her clit is screaming to be touched, but she won’t do it. If not for being suspended in the air, then for the sake of making Harry feel better.

But Harry still notices. His eyes are leaking again but he’s still attentive enough to know. Y/N pants, “Did that one feel good?”

“Yeah,” Harry grunts, “Still fucking hard. I don’t know what to do, Bambi.”

It’s the first time she’s ever heard him utter those words.

Y/N feels their arousal trickle down the inside of her legs. There’s so much, and she’s so swollen, and Harry is so hard. “Let me fuck you. I can do better, Harry.”

He shakes his head, “You’re so good, sweetheart,” pulling her further into his chest, her back sliding down the wall some. “This is my fault. Let me… let me—” Harry slides out of her, and a gush of come follows him. But he’s quick to fall to his knees and collect it all in the hollow of his tongue. He smears it around Y/N’s clit, big hands running up her thighs. His thumbs trail to the inside, smearing their wetness around, before he moves to palm over her backside. Her tights are sodden, and quickly becoming uncomfortable despite the pleasure coursing through Y/N’s body.

Harry tears them further in his haste to feel her skin and Y/N is left with the elastic hem around her waist and baggy nylon falling down her ankles—her panties still pulled to the side. But she feels so good and she shouldn’t be letting him do this. Her hands sink into his hair, tugging at the roots. Harry’s mouth opens in a groan around her clit, tongue dancing at her entrance. He doesn’t even entertain pulling away, hand migrating down to wrap around his soaking cock to fuck his fist in desperate pumps. Beads of come dribble over his thick knuckles.

“Does it feel good, Harry?” Y/N whines. “So warm, and wet. You look so pretty.” Harry nods his woozy head. “Sometimes I get jealous that you get to touch it all the time,” she lets her head hit the wall with a thump when Harry sucks with intent. He’s swallowing multitudes, arousal slicking down his throat and glistening on his face. Y/N wishes she were more coherent; to remember the way he looks right now. So dismantled, so flustered, and unable to hide any of what he’s feeling. Y/N’s not much of a dominant figure but… to see Harry this way is so beautiful.

Their eyes meet, and Y/N can’t help but be pushed to the brink of her orgasm by his red-rims and clumpy lashes—the tip of his perfect nose riding her through as his tongue draws waves inside of her. Harry’s coming all over his hand too, eyelids fluttering shut and face pushing further into Y/N’s cunt as he uses all his strength not to bite down on her in intense pleasure.

His cock finally softens a little. Not enough to deem comfortable but it sends relief through Harry’s heart—that he’s not doomed to an eternity with the most painful erection known to man.

Y/N falls into his lap, skirt concealing their intimacy, and nestles her pussy around his shaft. “How do you feel?”

“Better. Still need another. Can go slower though, I think.”

Y/N says nothing, only pushes her hands against Harry’s chest to get him to lie back against the floor. She unclasps her bra and holds up her skirt to see as she sinks back down and exhales slowly as he fills her up once more. She wishes she could say something sexy. Instead, she leans over him, hips grinding in tantalising circles and wraps a hand around his throat. It’s much less impressive than when Harry does it to her. His fingers actually curl round the entirety of her neck as opposed to the way Y/N’s sort of pathetically cling on.

“You using my own tactics against me, Bambi?” Harry smiles, all fucked out and blissful. His torso glistens with sweat.

“Shh,” Y/N tries, but she’s a little embarrassed. She doesn’t know what she’s doing—every word Harry has ever uttered to her races through her head. “Just—take it,” her skin flares with heat. It doesn’t sound right. And Harry is smiling at her. He’s supposed to be indisposed.

“Y-yeah?” He stretches his neck towards the ceiling, inviting Y/N to squeeze. “You fucking me, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” Y/N lifts up and drops down once, feeling Harry twitch inside of her and prod her deepest spots. “I… I thought you were a big, scary demon,” she starts, clit rubbing against his pelvis deliciously, “but you’re just a s-silly little boy who can’t even cast spells properly.”

Harry’s chest quakes and his hips lift in surprise. Fuck. “My sweet girl knows how to talk, huh? Keep going.”

Her body is alight with heat and she’s not sure she can keep going. But she says, “You’ve made such a m-mess, Harry. All over me,” her body shines with sweat, and spit, and come. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Y/N’s other hand presses into his chest, slipping down to rest over the butterfly.

“No,” Harry breathes, palms encircling Y/N’s biceps suddenly and tugging them around her back. She falls forward, cheek smushing into his collarbone.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“You’re so hot, baby, but I need to go faster than that.” And then he’s lifting his hips up, again, and again, and again—forcing squeals out of Y/N and grunts out of his own mouth. His composure is back some, but it’s hardly necessary. Not as Y/N clenches around him, squeezing drop after drop out of his cock and hurtelling him closer to his orgasm. “Should fuck your pretty little bum, too. Make sure you really milk me proper,” he slurs against her forehead as she starts coming around him. Her clit feels tortured against his abdomen but it’s so good. And Harry’s only pounding into her a few more times before he’s painting her insides again. “Fuck, fuck, yes.”

Y/N’s mouldable as Harry pulls her off his still leaking cock and tugs her thighs around his head. She’s a constant stream of whines as he laps her up, dick finally softening against his thigh. He knows they need to clean up now—the arousal is gone, they’re both spent, and Harry’s hurting for a whole new reason. But he can’t help the languid licks of his tongue on her pussy, or the hums that rumble in his throat at the feel of his come dripping out of her and into his mouth. It’s aftercare for him.

But she’s slumping atop of him, and Harry has to pull away. He sits her in his lap and brushes kisses to her eyelids, whispering gentle praise about how good she was for him—how perfect and wonderful and just for him.

Y/N appears near asleep in his arms, but she opens her eyes to shoot an exhausted attempt at a menacing glare. Harry tries and fails to school his smile.

“If you ever touch that spell again I’m leaving you to take care of it yourself.” No matter that she feels weightless, no amount of pleasure is worth seeing Harry in that state again—crying and whimpering. Not unless it is completely and utterly caused by Y/N and he is in every way comfortable.

Harry slaps her bum. “Don’t say that. You’ll always take care of me, won’t you?”

Y/N grumbles into his shoulder as he stands up and heads for the bathroom. They’ve never needed to wash more, and she is sure that she’ll still be dripping come the next day. But with Harry it’s serenity, and leaden limbs, and gentle caresses… and they both fall asleep in the bath—Harry’s soft “I’ll always take care of you too,” getting lost in the swirling tendrils of steam as they rise and dance above their heads.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #vanilla lime #writing #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #demonrry #demon!harry #fanfiction

595 notes · View notes

prythianpages · 5 months

Text

Stuck On You | Part Three

cassian x reader | Cassian can't seem to forget about you since the night you met seven years ago. he thought he would never see you again but when he does, he's determined to make you his. this time for good.

“Don’t worry. She likes your butt and fancy hair. I know, I read her diary.”

[part one] [part two] [part three] [part four] [final part]

A/N: I debated on splitting this into two parts since it came out longer than intended but I wanted to leave the bulk of the angst in this part. Some more scenes and quotes from Lilo & Stitch since I couldn't help myself. just one more part! I have a rough outline of it so I probably won't be able to finish it tonight but definitely by some time this coming week.

Warnings: angst, some fluff if you squint, mentions of violence/abuse

“Cassian said he would take me out for ice cream if you said yes!” Seraphine beamed, removing her boots at the foyer of your small, humble home. “I’ve never had ice cream before. Have you?”

“Sera,” you said with a sigh, concern laced into your tone over how attached she was to him. His month-long absence had given you a glimpse of the consequence of the effect he had on not just you but Seraphine as well and you didn’t want her to get hurt. She wouldn’t understand.

“I think it’s best if we don’t see Cas anymore.”

She turned to you with a pout. “He’s our friend! You have to say yes.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Seraphine’s lip quivered, her tired eyes brimming with tears.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t bring yourself to.

Instead, you threw your aching body onto the small loveseat in the living room. This week had taken both an emotional and physical toll on you, as you tirelessly kept Seraphine up to date with her studies, managed the tavern’s monthly expenses and wrestled with your inner turmoil concerning Cassian. The constant restlessness in Seraphine only added to the mountain of exhaustion, her unbridled excitement buzzing incessantly over everything.

You knew you should draw a bath for the both of you and then head to bed, considering your fatigue.

However, you were well aware of your little sister’s stubborn nature as it was one you also exhibited. It must run in the family. Once she was fixated on something, there was no distracting her and judging by the intensity of her little sister’s sobs, you braced yourself for a long and challenging night.

“You’re so mean!” She cried. “I hate you!”

“Please don’t be a pain tonight,” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You should just sell me and buy a rabbit instead!” Sara shouted at you with her finger pointed at you, referring to your empty threat of replacing her with a rabbit every time she misbehaved. You hadn’t brought it up in months, years even, and were surprised she remembered.

“At least a rabbit would behave better than you,” you muttered.

“Go ahead!” Seraphine exclaimed, making you wince at her sharp tone. You hoped your neighbors could not hear her, fearing what they’d do if they did. You heard her angry stomps as she made her way to her room. “Then you’ll be happy! It will be smarter than me too.”

“And quieter!”

“You’ll like it because it’s stinky like you!”

“Go to your room!”

“I’m already in my room!” Seraphine screamed as she opened her door just to slam it shut again, irritating you further.

You grabbed the nearest pillow and brought it to your face to muffle your scream.

Guilt began to settle as your initial anger faded away. You knew you had overreacted. For many years, it had just been you and the small family your mother had created. Neither you or Seraphine had made any friends in Ironcrest yet, unless you counted the friendly old male who you purchased spices and groceries from every Sunday.

Your small family of four had unexpectedly and significantly reduced to half, leaving just you and Seraphine. Of course, she was excited when Cassian came along. You’d deny it if asked but a part of you was excited too.

He was sweet and kind but your worries crept in about what it meant to allow him into your tightly-knit world. What if things didn’t work out between you? What if the burdens you carried were too much for him to bear? You couldn’t allow him in further when your sister was already so attached to him, unable to bear the thought of having her witness another loved one disappear from her life.

You had to end this, whatever it was that you and Cassian had and you had to end it soon. Before any further damage could be provoked.

Throughout your life, stability had been a luxury, and the haunting fear of attachment loomed over you. The constant uprooting had instilled a deep seated fear of getting close to people. Every bond you had forged was inevitably followed by a painful goodbye. The walls safeguarding your heart, constructed since childhood, grew higher and stronger with every move. You had hoped that your mother’s marriage would bring a lasting change, a nice and needed break from moving, and for a while, it had.

However, the universe had a cruel way of reminding you that stability was a luxury you couldn’t afford. You would’ve never expected your one night stand with Cassian would lead to something more–to this.

Cassian, with his unwavering determination, posed a threat to the walls you had carefully built around your heart. Love. It seemed like a beautiful risk but the fear of losing what was gained, overshadowed its allure for you. Your heart had never felt so heavy.

You took a deep breath before knocking on your sister’s door. The lack of response didn’t surprise you. She must still be upset. The soft glow of faelight seeping from beneath her door confirmed she was awake. Balancing the two mugs of hot cocoa in one arm, you opened the door and slipped inside.

Your stomach churned at the sight of your little sister, clutching the pegasus doll that Cassian had gifted her. Tears streaked her face as she gazed down solemnly.

“I brought you, your favorite. Hot cocoa,” you offered, hoping to bring a glimmer of cheer to her troubled expression.

“We’re a broken family, aren’t we?”

You frowned, setting the tray down on the nightstand, hesitating before answering. “Maybe but only a little…”

You settled yourself onto Seraphine’s bed, gently cradling her into your lap. “I’m sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you.”

“I like you better as a sister than a mother…” Seraphine sniffled.

“Yeah?” You tenderly brushed her long, dark hair away from her face in contemplation.

A pang tugged at your heart–the weight of becoming a mother figure pressed on your shoulders. As a sister, you also played a nurturing and protective role in Seraphine’s upbringing, offering support when it was needed. You were the one Seraphine would run to for comfort after your mother's scolding or being stern with her, but now you were the one that had to be stern. It was a struggle finding the delicate balance between fulfilling the motherly duties Seraphine needed and preserving the sibling bond that meant the world to you.

“And you like me better as a sister than a rabbit, right?”

“Oh, my sweet Sera.” You replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead, your arms wrapping around her smaller form with a gentle squeeze. “Of course I do! I would not make my special hot cocoa for just anyone. Only you.”

You handed one of the mugs to her, smiling fondly as she inhaled the rich aroma of the hot cocoa.

“Cassian says ice cream is like frozen milk,” she mused softly. “I wonder what hot cocoa would taste like frozen but then it would no longer be hot cocoa, right? We would have to come up with a new name for it but I don’t think I like the sound of frozen cocoa…”

Her innocent dilemma made you laugh, finding it utterly endearing. You wanted her worries to always be like this. Small and trivial.

“Perhaps we should leave the cocoa out to freeze and find out for ourselves? We can decide on a name then.”

The night air was chilling, the cold wind biting at your cheeks. You hugged your coat closer to you, sparing at glance at Seraphine to make sure she still had hers on and the scarf you had bought her was snug to keep her neck warm. You couldn’t help but giggle when you caught Cassian, who had been persistent on walking you home, was constantly blowing his hair out of his face.

“Did you lose all your hair ties?” You quipped, digging into the pocket of your pants and offering a hair tie to him to alleviate his struggle. He reluctantly took the elastic from you and tied his hair up into his usual bun. You noticed he wore it down more recently. “You can keep it, too.”

“I just wanted to let it loose, try something different.” He replied with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

You let out a small hum, stuffing your hands back into your pockets to keep them hidden and fell into a thoughtful silence once more. There was a knot in your stomach as you three neared your house.

Seraphine, who once again had chosen to skip ahead of you two, paused. She turned around with a knowing gleam in her eye. Her lips curled up and she opened her mouth to speak and if you hadn’t been occupied in the tempest of your thoughts, you wouldn’t have missed Cassian bringing his finger to his lips to keep her from exposing him.

“Fancy hair,” she giggled, despite his plea.

“What was that?” You said, turning your head toward your sister.

Both Seraphine and Cassian exchanged a look before turning to you, responding in unison:

“Nothing!”

Your eyes narrowed at the two in suspicion but you decided not to question it.

When you three finally reached your home, Cassian was surprised at your invitation to come inside. You had never invited him inside, always bidding your farewells at your door. He walked in, overwhelmed by the sweet and delightful scent. It smelled just like you. His eyes darted around the living area curiously, taking in all the small touches you incorporated to make this place feel like a warm and inviting home.

You instructed Seraphine to change and pick a book for you to read to her before bed. She politely said her goodbye and goodnight to Cassian, her movements slow as she was reluctant to follow your instructions. She had no desire to go to bed, not when Cassian was inside your home for the first time and you found the glare she sent you amusing.

Cassian was staring at the wilted and dead flowers resting in a small vase you had placed on the kitchen table, recognizing them as the ones he had gifted you so long ago. You never threw them away.

“Cassian.”

He loved the way you said his name. But it was different this time. He pulled his attention away from the kitchen table to look back at you. You leaned against the back of the loveseat in hesitation, your eyes revealing the weight of the decision you were about to make.

His throat tightened. “Yes?”

“I think it’s best if you stop coming here.” Your voice was laced with a vulnerability you hated and before Cassian could reply, you were speaking again. “I have to take care of my sister. I can’t risk her getting attached, more so than she already is and–and neither can I. We’ve lost so much already…”

A tear escaped your eye. You brushed it away with a trembling hand and then Cassian was bridging the distance between you both, his hand gently cupping your cheek and coaxing your gaze to his.

“Y/n,” he gently whispered. “You’re not going to lose me.”

“How can you say that? What if something happens and–”

“Please don’t push me away.”

“They call you the Lord of Bloodshed. You’re the commander of the High Lord’s armies. You made a name for yourself. And me? I am no one. I’m not worthy of love. Of you. You’ll soon realize it and grow tired of me–”

“Stop.” Cassian interrupted, bringing his other hand up to cup your face. His touch was both comforting and agonizing. “You are worthy of love and so much more and I want to prove it to you. There could be a room full of others but just like that night at the bonfire, I want you. I choose you.”

A heavy sigh escaped you as you gently removed his hands from your face. “But I can’t choose you. I have to choose Seraphine. I always will and right now, I can’t afford to have you both.”

The weight of your words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the responsibilities that anchored you, pulling you away from the love that beckoned.

Cassian grasped your hands in his, refusing to let them slip away. He did not want to let go of you. He understood the depth of your worries and the distress etched onto your features was breaking his heart. Why couldn’t you see yourself the way he saw you?

“I won’t force you into something that scares you, y/n.” He reassured you with a soft tone, his thumbs tracing soothing circles on the back of your hands. “I only want what’s best for you and Seraphine.”

Your lips trembled as you managed a small, strained smile.

“But you have to know that I love you–both of you. And this love, it’s not going anywhere. It’s a constant. A promise that will never waver.”

Cassian hadn’t returned and although you had asked for it, you couldn’t deny the lingering void in your heart. Seraphine sensed something was amiss when your voice wavered as you read her a bedtime story shortly after he left. Surprisingly, she refrained from asking about Cassian until a week later, almost as if she dreaded hearing the news that he wouldn’t be coming back.

When she finally did, tears welled in her eyes and you comforted her, convincing yourself it was for the best. However, the attempt of reassurance was futile and did little to ease your own pain.

Seraphine sighed, absentmindedly nudging the green vegetable on her plate. Scrumps was propped on the table, facing her with its stitched eyes. “At least I still have you,” she murmured to the pegasus plush. “You’ll never leave me, right?”

You frowned at the sight, feeling helpless and unsure how to alleviate your sister’s sorrow. This was precisely what you had tried to shield her from and it stung to realize it was too late. The damage had already been done.

Your attention was then pulled away as the creaking door to the tavern swung open. The room fell into silence. The dining Illyrians, previously immersed in their conversations, cast furtive glances toward the entrance.

In stepped the formidable son of Ironcrest’s war-lord, Kallon. Another Illyrian stepped in behind him but he was overshadowed by Kallon’s commanding presence. His gaze swept over the room, eyes like steel, assessing every face, every corner of the establishment. The tension in the air was palpable. He was looking for someone.

The regulars exchanged subtle nods, acknowledging the unspoken command to show respect. Whispers died down, and the muted sound of footsteps echoed as he advanced further into the tavern. The atmosphere had shifted from one of amiability to one of quiet deference, all eyes now focused on the figure who seemed to hold the establishment in the palm of his hand.

Your eyes were wide and you felt your body tense. You almost forgot how to breathe when Kallon’s cold eyes found yours. Seraphine, who sensed your distress, hopped off her chair and ran to you. Her tiny hand found yours and you guided her to stand behind you as Kallon continued his approach.

“Kallon,” you managed to find your voice, forcing a smile onto your face as you bowed your head in respect. “Should I prepare a table for you and your companion?”

“There’s no need.” He replied. He then turned his head at the eavesdropping Illryians, his gaze a silent warning to them. It wasn’t until the menacing look on his face prompted a couple to abandon their tables and those that remained to resume their conversations that he turned his attention back to you. “I came here to speak to you.”

“Me?” You echoed, your voice daring to break. The male behind Kallon remained quiet but you caught the way his gaze had flickered to your little sister, who hid behind your skirts. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“It has come to my attention that you have been fraternizing with an Illyrian male from Windhaven–” Kallon’s lips curled up in disgust and you felt Seraphine’s grip on you tighten. “– who just so happens to also be the High Lord’s general.”

“His name is Cassian.” Seraphine said, peeking out from behind you to scowl at Kallon.

Kallon looked toward your sister with a scoff. You pressed Seraphine into your hip to keep her from speaking again, worried of the consequences that may unfold. “He’s just a friend.”

Kallon’s attention drifted back to you, his gaze burning into you. “It seems you and I have different understandings of a friend because friends don’t kiss each other now do they?”

Your breath hitched. The two of you seldom interacted with each other. The last time you did was to report your mother’s murder. You cursed yourself at that moment, disappointed with yourself. You had failed to recognize that Cassian was well known throughout Illyria and to make it worse, he was from Windhaven. A rival camp to Ironcrest. You wondered how long Kallon had been following you and why he waited to confront you about it now, several months later since Cassian’s first visit.

“I–”

“It’s not a good look for you, y/n.” Kallon shook his head in disapproval with a small tut. “You of all people should know the consequences of whoring yourself out. Finding a husband will be troublesome for you and if you continue down this path, it is not a good example for your dear little sister.”

Your blood grew cold at the insult and you forced yourself to look up to keep the tears that were threatening to spill at bay. “I’m s–”

“It seems I may have failed you in some aspects.” Kallon interrupted, raising a finger at you in warning. He turned his attention to the empty glasses lined at the counter. “It is my job, after all, to help my father run this camp and it seems that I have overlooked you. Poor little y/n. You have been running this business and raising your sister all on your own.”

His fingers danced along the counter, a wicked gleam in his eyes. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the air, a sharp and crystalline shatter that reverberated through your bones and had Seraphine wincing into your body. You stared at the shattered glass at your feet, heart pounding through your ears.

“But it is not your place to do so.” Kallon reprimanded, his voice seething with a barely contained intensity. “It is his.”

You lifted your gaze.

The Illyrian male that had been quietly observant finally stepped forward. His features held a strange familiarity you couldn’t quite place. His eyes were cold and distant, lips pressed into a taut line.

“This is Aerik. Seraphine’s uncle.”

The wind was knocked out of you as the day you had dreaded finally came. Kallon had tracked down your step father’s only living relative– his brother, Aerik. The illusion you had so carefully crafted was unraveling and you found yourself at the precipice, forced to surrender the tavern and Seraphine, as if she were a mere object, to him.

But you knew the future that laid ahead for Seraphine if she stayed with her uncle. To you, she was your precious little sister, the one you had devoted your life to. To him, she was disposable, reduced to nothing but a bargaining tool once she was of marrying age.

She would not have the freedom to be a child as she did with you. She would be groomed to become a submissive wife and soon enough, her wings would be clipped. A tradition that had been banned but not enforced in Ironcrest. You could not allow any harm to fall to your sister, not when you were alive and capable of taking care of her. You wondered if this is how your mother had felt when she had you, cornered by the cruel world.

Kallon had left moments ago, along with the remaining customers, but now without a warning. A threat to harm you and Cassian in unimaginable ways if Kallon heard of Cassian meeting with you again.

"I don't give a fuck if he's the High Lord's pet. This is my father's camp and as his son, I have the authority to punish those who dare cross us as needed."

You had instructed Seraphine to go to the kitchens to help tidy up, leaving you and Aerik alone. Your eyebrows knitted together in an exasperated manner, bewildered by his demands.

You were a half breed–half high fae, half Illyrian–and a bastard. You were of little significance to Aerik–to any male in this damned camp, if you were being honest–and his plans with Seraphine did not include you. He wanted to take her away from you. For good.

He shifted, directing himself toward the kitchen and you were stopping him. Your hand gripped his arm desperately. “Seraphine needs me.”

Aerik tore his arm from your grasp with a snarl, using it to grip yours instead in retribution. His grip was hard and bruising and had you grimacing. “Is this what she needs?” He seethed, vividly gesturing to the tavern and lack of order in Seraphine’s life.

“It seems clear to me that you need her a lot more than she needs you.”

Cassian told himself he would give you space, as tortuous as it was for him. It’s what you had asked him for. He missed you dearly, often wondering if you were feeling that painful ache in your heart too. Despite the temptation, he resisted the urge to ask Azriel to check in on you with his shadows, not wanting to bring his friend into this tangled messy emotions he found himself grappling with. He couldn’t shake the desire to check up on you one more time, hoping that you might've change your mind.

A week later, when an overwhelming sense of unease gripped him, he set off for Ironcrest.

Cassian pushed open the door to the familiar tavern, his second home as Rhysand had teased him weeks ago. His eyes scanned the room in search of you like they always did, but he couldn't spot the one person he was hoping to see. His head was then turning to the table Seraphine often occupied only to find it empty.

An unsettling feeling knotted in his stomach when he couldn’t spot either of you, not missing the glare the male behind the counter had sent his way. It confirmed his suspicion that you weren’t here. Growing concerned, he decided to look for you, hoping you were safe and sound at home.

The journey was swift as it was one he knew by heart, his footsteps echoing through the quiet streets. When he reached your door, he hesitated for a moment. He could see the subtle glow of a light, coming from the small window that he knew faced your living room. He heard a squeak come from inside, recognizing it as Seraphine’s, and then he was knocking on your door.

There was a faint rustling inside and then the door creaked open. Cassian’s confusion set in as he initially saw no one at the other side. It wasn’t until he heard a sharp gasp that his gaze shifted downward, relief washing over him as he spotted Seraphine.

“Cas Cas!” Seraphine’s expression brightened, reveling in his presence and wrapping her tiny arms around him when he crouched down. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

“It’s good to see you too, munchkin.” Cassian smiled fondly, lifting her up with ease. He had missed her so much too.

“Sera, it’s time for your ba–Cassian?” You blinked, your grip on the towel in your hand tightening. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Can I come in?”

You looked past his shoulders worriedly and hesitantly nodded.

Cassian stepped into the foyer, crouching down to let Seraphine down. She grasped at his hand, guiding him to the living room where you stood with a forced smile on your face.

His worry deepened as he looked at you. "You weren’t at the tavern so I came to–to see you.”

To make sure you’re alright, is what he wanted to say but within seconds of seeing you, he knew you weren’t. Yet, you still attempted to dismiss his concern with a casual shrug. “My step-uncle is taking over the tavern now.”

“Oh yeah, Cas! I have a step-uncle now and he’s so nice to me. He bought me a new coloring book and so many toys! Do you want to see?”

Cassian realized that the glaring male from the tavern must be Seraphine’s step-uncle. He caught the way you bit the inside of your cheek at your little sister’s words, sensing something more beneath the surface.

“Sure.” He replied to Seraphine.

He waited until she disappeared down the hallway to take a step closer to you. “Is everything okay?”

A fleeting moment of hesitation flickered in your eyes that you quickly concealed, hoping he didn’t notice. But he did.

"I'm fine, really. Just a bit tired but thankfully Aerik offered to step in to help.”

Despite her attempt to reassure him, Cassian couldn't shake the feeling of unease. The lines of worry etched on his face as he spoke, "You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"

“Yeah,” you nodded your head nonchalantly at him.

“Y/n.” His voice was gentle but stern and he reached out for your hands.

His fingers accidentally brushed against the bruise Aerik had left the other night and you couldn’t mask the wince that followed. Cassian stilled, eyes glancing down and widening at the marking of your skin. “Y/n, Sweetheart–”

“It’s nothing.” You were pulling your arm from his grasp and out of his view, clasping them behind your back. “I tripped and hit my arm against the counter the other night.”

Cassian felt a burning feeling in his chest, his teeth clenching. Someone had touched you--hurt you.

“Does this have anything to do with the sudden appearance of Seraphine’s uncle?”

“No.” Your response was too quick to be anything but a lie. “Aerik has been kind to us. So kind that he offered to help me find a husband.”

More lies. Your fear and anxiety grew with every passing moment that Cassian remained in Ironcrest. Kallon’s menacing warnings echoed in your mind, threatening dire consequences for both you and Cassian, if he ever returned. Since he had gone to the tavern to look for you, you were sure Aerik had seen him. Cassian was not one to easily blend into the crowd with his imposing stature, striking features and seven siphons. It was only a matter of time before he would run off to go tell Kallon.

You knew Cassian was a formidable warrior from all the gossip and tales you'd heard at the bonfire. Still, you couldn't shake your fear. Cassian was in enemy territory. Vastly outnumbered. He had to leave.

Cassian shook his head in disbelief, swallowing hard. “What?”

Stepping forward, he closed the distance between you, his intense gaze burning into your skin as you actively avoided it. “Is this what you want?”

“It’s what is best,” you told him, sidestepping his question. “So please leave. I don’t want Aerik to get the wrong idea by having you here in the house alone with me.”

“Y/N–”

“I’m so sorry, Cassian.”

Walking away, you felt your heart begin to shatter, unaware that you had also shattered his. You wiped at your eyes once you knew you were out of his view, holding your breath as you moved down the hallway. Seraphine ran past you with her coloring book and you couldn’t bring yourself to stop her.

Seraphine paused, her chest heaving as she caught up with her breath. Her lips curved into a deep frown when she spotted Cassian heading for the door. “Cas Cas, where are you going? I was going to show you my coloring book…"

"I thought you were here to stay.”

Cassian couldn’t bring himself to answer her and as young as she was, she recognized the look in his eyes. It mirrored the expression on your face before you had to deliver bad news.

“You can leave again if you want.” Seraphine said as realization dawned on her. She casted her head down.

“I’ll remember you though. I remember everyone that leaves.”

A/N: don't hate me for breaking Cas's heart. I just live for the angst 🫠 if it's any consolation, this will have a happy ending 🩷

tagging: @kemillyfreitas

#cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #acotar cassian #acotar imagine #cassian imagine #cassian fluff #cassian angst #acotar fluff #acotor angst #acotar x reader #cassian acotar #soy

313 notes · View notes