#(BUT NO THIS MAN IS HERE TO STAY IF THEY FUCK HIM UP)

[rafesangelita]

♡ asking frat!rafe for permission to cum

warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, implied enemies to lovers, praise, slight degradation, dirty talk, slapping, overstimulation, fingering, oral (m. receiving), facial

“oh! fuckkk, rafe—” you couldn’t believe it. the president of one of the most obnoxious fraternities, and your most handsome headache, was pounding into you with a force that quite literally had you gripping his sheets like your life depended on it. “what? you always got some smart shit to say, why don’t you say something now?” he laughed, landing a harsh smack to your ass. you squealed at the stinging sensation, feeling utterly helpless as he fucked you speechless. rafe smiled at your lack of response, your fucked out expression only riling him up further.

“oh, that’s right.. you’re only smart until you have some cock inside of you..” gripping your skirt he had long since hiked up your thighs, rafe balled his fist into the soft material before picking up his pace, the sound of his skin meeting yours making your cheeks heat in embarrassment. you were completely at his mercy right now. your back ached from the mean arch rafe had you bent over in, your knees digging into his mattress as he kept your head shoved into his pillows. you couldn’t understand how you had let yourself get swooned by his icky charms.

rafe slowed down eventually, his fingers rubbing your clit into overstimulation as your thighs shook and trembled, your cries encouraging him to keep up his ministrations on your aching bud. “gonna cum for me again, princess?” rafe pulled out until only his swollen tip was nestled inside of you, his jaw falling slack as you clenched around him, your walls fluttering around the sticky head of his cock. “y-yes, can i?” as soon as he gave you the green light, you screamed into your palm, your poor sensitive cunt gripping him like a vice as you fell over the edge in a fit of tears and whimpers.

rafe held you up as your legs threatened to give out from under you, his lips coming down to whisper filthy obscenities in your ear. “fuck, just look at you.. you’re even more prettier when you’re cock drunk like this.” he nipped at the soft flesh of your neck, eliciting a shaky breath to leave your lips. “i can’t!” you attempted to crawl away from him as he gave your clit one final pinch, your chest caving in on itself as he slapped your puffy folds. “you can take it,” he pulled you back, replacing his cock with his fingers, “cause i’m gonna make sure you do.” rafe shifted his weight so he was now kneeling at your side.

tapping his length against your glossy lips, you welcomed him into your mouth as he curled his digits inside of you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the feeling of his fingertips pressing into your sweet spot. “you’re such a pretty fucking whore, ‘taking me so good in your throat like this.” he stroked your cheek, thumbing away a stray tear as you blinked up at him through your eyelashes. rafe closed his eyes, reveling in the way you swallowed around his length, your head bobbing up and down as you continued sucking him off with ease.

rafe hissed, his hand now cupping your jaw as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “ah, shit— you gonna let me paint that pretty face, hmm?” the corners of your lips lifted slightly in a smile as you nodded, the man above you cursing at the sight. slipping his fingers out of you, rafe pulled at the roots of your hair, forcing your head to stay up as he jerked himself off with his free hand. you watched as rafe’s muscles constricted in his lower abdomen, his hips stuttering as he groaned. “fuckfuckfuck—” your eyes fluttered closed when his cum shot out onto your face, the thick, warm ropes littering your skin as he shuddered.

“oh, my god,” he sighed, his head hanging in defeat, “stay here.” rafe got up and wet a face towel with warm water before helping you sit up against his headboard. he cleaned you off, only leaving behind a small drop so he could scoop the sticky glob with his finger, popping the digit into your mouth so you could lick it clean. letting out a shaky breath, you let rafe pull you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your shivering frame. “i like you so much more when you’re not lecturing me.” rafe whispered, rubbing soothing circles into your flesh.

thank you nonnie for celebrating with me ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[soapysoapysoapysoapy]

taking one (& another & another & another) for the team | soap x reader x ghost | inspired by: @softaestluv johnny's pent up blurb

It started as a joke. "I'm gonna die if I don't get my cock wet soon," Johnny whined, sprawled backward over the couch, legs spread, hand draped over his forehead like he was seconds away from his last breath. *"Swear I can feel it in my fucking molars, mate. I'm gonna explode."

At first, you and the others ignored him. Typical Soap — loud, dramatic, a walking sexual frustration PSA. But it didn't stop. If anything, it got worse: every mission debrief, every meal, every late-night sit around the barracks, Johnny lamented his poor, poor cock like it was a national tragedy.

When he started describing how tragic his wanks were — "My hand's too fuckin' rough, not the same, need something wet, something tight—" — you snapped. Loud enough for everyone in the room to hear: "Christ, Soap, I'll fuckin' take one for the team if it'll shut you up."

Johnny sat up like you'd just offered him oxygen.

Which is how you found yourself bent over the nearest flat surface, jeans yanked halfway down your thighs, Johnny pressed tight to your back, rutting into you like a man possessed.

"Fuck—fuckin' hell, love, yer savin' my life," he groaned, hips slamming into you like he was trying to crawl inside. "Warm 'n tight, fuck, could stay here forever."

You barely bit back a moan, hands braced hard enough to hurt. You weren't supposed to enjoy this, just do your duty to the squad’s sanity.

But then Johnny started whining again — not his usual loudmouth bitching, but these needy, half-choked sounds against the back of your neck.

"Need ya," he rasped, like he couldn't help himself. "Need yer cunt, fuck, not gonna be enough, need it again—'m not done—"

Even after he came — hot, messy, filling you to the brim — he didn't stop. Still rocking against you, still murmuring desperate filth into your skin, already hardening inside you again.

You realized then: You hadn't fixed the problem. You'd made it worse.

He barely pulled out before he was pushing right back in, thick and slick with his own cum, grinding into your overstretched walls like he could merge the two of you if he tried hard enough.

"Fuckin' perfect," Johnny slurred against your neck, teeth scraping along your skin. "Mine now, y'know that? Filled you up good—fuckin' claimed you—"

You tried to push him off, half-hearted at best — muscles trembling, brain fogged from how full you felt — but Johnny just wrapped an arm around your middle and held you there, hips rolling slow and filthy, fucking his own mess deeper inside.

"Nuh-uh, love," he muttered, pressing kisses to your shoulder, messy and possessive. "Said I'd lose my mind if I didn’t get to fuck you. Y’think one load's enough to fix this? After all that sufferin’?"

You whimpered, feeling his cock twitch again, fully hard despite just cumming. He chuckled low against your skin, voice dark and wrecked.

"Told ya I'd go mad. Now yer stuck with me, sweetheart."

He fucked you slow the second time — not like the frantic, desperate slamming from before, but a grinding, possessive rhythm, like he had all the time in the world to ruin you properly. Every time you clenched around him, he gasped, praising you in that ruined, filthy brogue.

"That's it, good girl," he breathed. "Take it all, take it like y'made for it. Fuckin' born to milk my cock, huh? Gonna pump you so full you won't remember what it feels like to be empty."

You felt him bulge even thicker inside you, grinding down into your cervix, every thrust stretching you wider, making you feel owned in a way that had nothing to do with orders or duty.

Johnny growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin. You barely registered it before he was moving — hands gripping your hips, manhandling you onto your back like you weighed nothing.

"Wanna see," he panted, almost delirious. "Wanna see how fuckin' ruined you are for me."

Your legs were shoved open before you could think to protest, ankles tossed over his shoulders. Johnny leaned back just enough to look — and groaned, obscene and ragged.

"Fuckin' hell, look at that," he hissed, watching his cum leaking out of you, your cunt red and puffy, still clenching greedily around nothing. His cock throbbed in his hand, still wet, still ready.

"So messy, love. Drippin' for me already. Y'know what that means, don’t ya?"

You shook your head weakly, breath stuttering in your chest. Johnny just grinned, all teeth and danger.

"Means I’ve gotta fill you up again. 'Til you can't take any more."

Without warning, he lined himself up and pushed — forcing his cock back inside your sore, sloppy cunt in one thick, slow thrust. You cried out, back arching, and Johnny moaned like you were his whole damn salvation.

He didn’t give you a chance to breathe. Started fucking you immediately — deep, grinding strokes that had your whole body jolting with each brutal snap of his hips.

"That's it, that's it," he gasped, head tipping back, sweat dripping down his temple. "Take it all, pretty thing. Gonna make sure yer stuck full of me. Walkin' round leakin' my cum for days."

Your brain barely worked anymore. Just open-mouthed whimpers, toes curling, walls spasming around him like you wanted it — wanted everything he was giving you and more.

Johnny's pace turned frantic again, slamming into you harder, the sound of skin against skin filthy and wet between you.

"Belong to me now," he growled, words punching out of him with each thrust. "No one else. Fuckin' mine."

You couldn’t even pretend to fight it. Couldn’t think past the way he filled you so perfectly, the overwhelming heat, the way his cock dragged along every sensitive spot inside you until you felt tears spring to your eyes.

He buried himself to the hilt one final time, grinding down against you, hips jerking as he spilled deep again, thick and endless. You could feel it — the heat, the stretch, the way he pulsed inside you like he was branding you from the inside out.

Johnny didn’t pull out. Just collapsed over you, mouth hot and messy against your jaw, still twitching inside your wrecked cunt.

"Fuck," he whispered hoarsely. "Still not enough. Need you again, love. Gonna fill you 'til you’re round with me, swear it."

Johnny stayed buried in you for a long moment, hips grinding lazy, slow circles, as if trying to force every last drop even deeper. You could feel it leaking out around his cock — hot, sticky, obscene — and you whimpered, overstimulated and wrecked.

Johnny noticed immediately. Growled against your throat, feral.

"Leakin'," he muttered, almost offended. "Can't have that. Gotta keep it all in, love. Need you drippin’ full for me."

He finally, finally pulled out — and the flood of cum that gushed out made you sob, weak and broken. But Johnny didn’t give you a second to recover. He dropped between your legs, shoving two thick fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep and obscene, scooping the mess back up.

"No wastin' it," he rasped, fucking his cum right back into your cunt with slow, filthy thrusts. "Take it all, greedy girl. You fuckin' need it."

Your legs kicked weakly at the overstimulation, but Johnny just grinned — wild and unhinged — before spreading you wider, his thumb pressing down hard on your clit while he stuffed you full with his fingers.

"Gonna breed you proper," he whispered hoarsely. "Fill you so deep you’ll be round with me. Belly all heavy, stuffed full of my fuckin' load—"

You sobbed, hips rolling despite yourself, body desperate for more even as your mind shattered into static. You should have known it’d be like this — Johnny didn’t do anything by halves.

He leaned down, mouth dragging messy, possessive kisses along your trembling stomach like he could will it to swell.

"Mine," he murmured. "All fuckin' mine."

And that’s exactly when you heard the door creak open. You barely had the strength to lift your head, vision blurry — but you saw a tall shadow in the doorway.

Ghost.

He stood there, silent, unreadable behind his mask — just watching. Johnny didn't stop. Didn’t even slow down. He curled his fingers inside you again, making you cry out, making more of the mess spill down your thighs.

Ghost's head tilted slightly, almost curious.

"Problem?" Johnny barked over his shoulder, voice wrecked but cocky as hell. Like he wanted Ghost to see — to know.

Ghost said nothing. Just crossed his arms slowly over his broad chest.

Johnny smirked and turned his attention back to you, dragging his fingers out with a wet squelch just to stuff them right back in — slow and possessive.

"That's right," he said lowly, clearly for Ghost’s benefit now. "Had to take care of it myself. Filled her up so good she's fuckin' leaking. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?"

You whimpered in response — too broken, too full, too wrecked to argue.

Ghost watched you for a long, heavy moment — chest rising and falling — before he spoke, voice flat and unreadable: "You better clean up after yourself, Soap."

Then, calmly — without another word — Ghost shut the door behind him with a click.

Johnny barked out a wild, breathless laugh against your stomach. "Come to help, mate?" he panted, fingers still lazily dragging through the wrecked mess of your cunt. "Think she needs it. Poor thing's so fuckin' stuffed already, can't hold it all."

Ghost didn’t answer. Didn't need to.

He stalked closer, heavy boots thudding against the floor, until he was standing right at the edge of the bed — looming over your trembling body. You watched through blurred eyes as he popped the button on his cargo pants, dragging the zipper down slowly, deliberately.

Johnny shifted you slightly, spreading your legs even wider, thumbs digging bruises into your hips to keep you open — presenting you like a ruined offering.

"C'mon, Ghost," Johnny muttered, voice rough and wild. "Don't leave the girl waitin'. Look how pretty she is—drippin' fuckin' ready."

Still silent, Ghost wrapped a hand around the base of his cock — thick, flushed, already leaking — and lined himself up.

He didn’t ease in. Just pressed the fat head against your already-used, dripping hole and pushed.

You screamed, body arching off the bed, overwhelmed instantly by the stretch, the pressure, the unbearable fullness of taking another man inside you without even a second to adjust.

Ghost let out a low, broken sound, not quite a grunt, not quite a moan, and buried himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

"There we fuckin' go," Johnny whispered against your ear, laughing breathlessly. "Take him, love. Take us both."

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

Ghost fucked you without mercy — slow, devastating thrusts that forced Johnny’s mess and his own spit to spill down your thighs in filthy, wet streams. He said nothing — just breathing harshly through the fabric of his mask, hands brutal on your hips, using you like a living, breathing fucktoy.

Johnny kept whispering filth into your ear — encouragements, praises, commands — while Ghost destroyed you from the inside out.

"That's it, good girl," Johnny crooned, petting your hair while Ghost slammed into you. "Take it like you were fuckin' made for it."

You felt your mind fracturing — pure overstimulation, pure broken pleasure — as Ghost fucked you harder, grinding deep, his cock stretching you to the point of tears.

And then Johnny shifted again — ducking low between your legs to lick around where you were stuffed full, his tongue dragging over your overstretched rim every time Ghost pulled out just a fraction.

"Fuckin' hell," Johnny gasped, almost reverent. "Look at that, Ghost. Cunt's swallowin' you like she needs it."

Ghost let out another low, broken sound — and picked up the pace. The bed creaked violently under you, your body jolting with every brutal, punishing thrust.

You could feel it building — some dark, overwhelming climax you couldn’t fight — tightening low in your stomach, burning up your spine.

Ghost suddenly reached down and gripped your throat — not tight, just heavy, possessive — and that was it.

You shattered. Clamping down around him so hard Ghost actually groaned, thrusts going sloppy, brutal. And then you felt it — hot, thick, spilling deep inside you, Ghost’s cock pulsing violently, joining Johnny’s mess inside your ruined cunt.

You lay there twitching, barely conscious, as Ghost finally pulled out — slow, heavy — and watched as his cum immediately leaked out after him.

Johnny's hand was already there — catching it, stuffing it back inside you with lazy, satisfied fingers.

Ghost pulled his gloves back on silently, redressing with mechanical efficiency. Said nothing. Before he left, he pressed one gloved hand to your trembling thigh — firm, approving — and then disappeared out the door without a word.

Johnny leaned down over you, brushing your hair back from your sweaty forehead.

"Told ya, sweetheart," he whispered with a wicked grin. "Was gonna fill you proper."

And from the ache in your gut and the obscene mess between your thighs —you knew he wasn’t lying.

Morning hit like a slow, heavy sledgehammer.

You barely even remembered falling asleep — just flashes: Johnny fucking his cum deeper into you with lazy, loving thrusts while you sobbed into the sheets; Ghost’s heavy hand gripping your thigh one last time before disappearing without a word.

Now your entire body ached. Your thighs were sore, trembling even at the slightest twitch. Your pussy was a wreck — raw, swollen, still leaking a slow, lazy drip of milky white that soaked into the crumpled sheets beneath you.

You tried to shift — to roll onto your side — and whimpered immediately. Everything hurt. You could feel the mess drying on your skin, inside your cunt, coating your thighs.

And Johnny, of course, was already awake.

He lay stretched out beside you, arms tucked behind his head, a smug, satisfied smirk spread wide across his face.

"Mornin’, sunshine," he drawled, voice rough from use, eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "Sleep well?"

You glared at him weakly, too exhausted to even muster words. Johnny just grinned wider.

"Y’look wrecked," he said cheerfully, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from your sweaty forehead. "Proper job, that."

You tried to move again — a pathetic, sluggish attempt — and Johnny laughed, full-bodied and warm.

"Aw, poor thing. Can’t even fuckin' walk, huh?"

His hand drifted down — over your collarbone, the bruises he’d left, the fingerprints, the possessive marks — until he palmed your lower belly, pressing down just slightly.

You gasped, muscles clenching reflexively around the lingering mess inside you.

Johnny's grin turned wolfish.

"Still full, are ya?" he murmured. "Good girl. Holdin’ it all for us."

He sat up slowly, bare chest gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat, and pulled back the sheets.

You whimpered as cool air brushed your ruined, sore cunt — thighs automatically trying to close, to hide yourself.

Johnny tsked softly, spreading you open with two rough hands like you were something precious to be displayed.

He hummed low in his throat — a sound of satisfaction.

"Ghost’ll be pleased," he muttered, almost to himself.

You blinked sluggishly at him, confused.

Johnny chuckled and gestured toward the nightstand. There — sitting neatly next to a bottle of water — was a simple piece of paper. No name. No explanation. Just three short words, written in Ghost’s heavy, blocky scrawl: “Hold it in.”

Your heart hammered painfully in your chest.

Johnny laughed again — delighted, wrecked — and leaned down to press a filthy, claiming kiss to the inside of your trembling thigh.

"Guess we’re not done after all, love," he whispered against your skin. "Orders are orders."

And from the wicked glint in his eye, you knew you weren’t getting a break anytime soon.

[leighsartworks216]

Yeah, 'Cause Maybe Then You'd Want Me Just As Much

Sylus x Mephisto!Reader

In the actual Nightplumes memory, Mephisto actually gets along with the dove but um fuck that, we want it to hurt. Also wanna say the "I'm busy right now" line is from the actual game, which inspired this tbh

Title from "Girl Crush" by Little Big Town

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, jealousy, self-esteem issues, self-worth issues, body dysphoria, shapeshifting, biting, fear of water, storms, pet names, crying, possibly ooc

Word Count: 3,699

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Ugh, doves. They think they're sooo perfect just because they're so round and cute and everyone loves them. Those pathetic little coos. A bird should make real noise, not just those dumb sounds.

So why is Sylus - a man whom you were led to believe had good tastes in avian creatures - giving it so much attention?

You bite his earlobe. His head jerks away on reflex, a soft hiss escaping through his teeth. "Behave," he chides. Doesn't even look at you.

You glare down at the pathetic dove again. Somehow it hurt its wing. And for some godforsaken reason Miss Hunter brought it to Sylus to look after. You know for a fact she has a doctor friend, why not foist it on him until she gets back from her trip? Yeah, Sylus is great with animals, but that's beside the point.

You bite his ear again. He sighs. "Do I have to send you on a mission?" You bristle at the question, feathers standing on end. His brow is furrowed as he gets back to examining the dove's wing. It's not even a bad break; it'll recover in no time.

So why can't he spare a second on you?

You try a different approach. With a more delicate touch, you preen the ends of his hair. He still doesn't glance your way. "I'm busy right now. Go entertain yourself for a bit."

Oh...

You step awkwardly on his shoulder, feeling suddenly too out of place there. Your wing almost clips his head as you take off for your perch. Even here, the wood just feels wrong under your feet. Your feathers are ruffled. They can't seem to relax. A chasm opens in your heart. Synthetic as it may be, you can still feel it. Like a black hole, sucking in all the light.

The dove coos. You can't stay in here. You slip out of an open window and fly off. Where to, you have no idea. Anywhere but here.

"Anywhere" lands you outside the window of a fourth floor hotel room. The light is still on, just a small lamp by the bed, but it's enough to see a familiar figure sitting against the headboard reading a mission brief. You tap on the glass.

Miss Hunter looks up with a start. The surprise quickly turns to a frown. She gets up in a huff and jerks the curtains closed.

You can hear a phone ringing inside a second later.

"Sylus! What have I told you about sending your bird to spy on me?!"

The faint crackle of Sylus's voice answers with a sharp scoff. "I haven't told Mephisto to do anything," he retorts.

"Then why is it outside my window right now, huh?!"

"Why don't you ask?" he teases dryly. "Maybe they missed picking fights with you."

"You-!"

"Goodnight, kitten."

The beep of an ended call. You tap on the glass again, softer this time.

Miss Hunter huffs inside. Moments pass, but the curtains remain drawn shut. You can't tell if the lamp has been turned off; you can't even hear her moving around. Maybe she's decided to take the "out of sight, out of mind" approach. Unsurprising, really. If she isn't ignoring you, she's shouting abuse at you.

A large crack of thunder rumbles through your circuits, stirring the air with electricity. You hadn't even noticed the weather - the clouds are dark, covering every sliver of sky for miles.

You tap on the glass more urgently.

The first droplets of rain begin to fall. Slow, random. And then more and more, all at once in a barrage of water. You press yourself tighter to the window and tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap-

The curtains are thrown open. The window lifts from its sill. Before she can angrily ask why you won't leave her alone, you fly in as quick as you can. Just in the nick of time, it seems, as the rain turns into a proper storm, lightning firing through the sky in a burst of light. You tumble onto the end of the bed, feathers ruffled.

She huffs as she slides the window shut, ready to tease you or yell at you, but another loud boom of thunder makes her flinch and close the curtains quickly, words stolen. "Fine! I guess you can... stay the night," she relents. She rounds the bed to sit back down where she was before. She picks up the tablet with her mission data and holds it up, pointing at you accusingly. "And no telling Sylus about anything you see here, got it?"

You caw back at her. You don't wanna tell Sylus anything right now. It might distract him from his sweet, precious dove...

Knees bent, she sets the tablet on her thighs and starts reading again. Rain hits against the window, picked up by a growing wind that slams it into the hotel building. Another shock of thunder. She curls slightly more into herself.

You preen your feathers. Align them all once more, clean them from the long flight here, soothe your nerves. All the while watching Miss Hunter's reactions to the storm. With every boom of thunder, she's startled from her reading. She does well trying to hide it. You can see the twitch in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders and hands as she holds tighter to the tablet, the way her knees pull in slightly more. It doesn't take a genius to see what's happening. The real question is why she's not doing anything to deal with it. Is it because she's trying to play it cool with you around? Not giving anything away so you'd have less to report back with?

You look around the room. It's nothing special. Certainly nothing as luxurious as the suites Sylus stays in. A suitcase is on the floor by the tv stand. A work bag is set on the desk. The perfect amount of stuff for a week-long work trip, you suppose.

You fly over to the desk, nails ticking against the wood.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

You poke your beak into a few of the pockets on the bag.

"Leave that alone! Don't go through my stuff!"

You wonder for a moment how soundproof these walls are, and just how confused someone listening in would be when she's answered by the caw of a crow.

You finally find what you're looking for in a side pocket and pull it out. It doesn't really fit well in your beak, but you make do. She's just tossed her tablet aside to jump up and bolt over to you, but she stops when you fly back over to the bed.

She blinks at you, confused. "What are you...?" You hop across the cheap bedding and hold out the item to her. She hesitantly accepts your offering, and you drop the earphone case in her hand. Understanding dawns on her. "Oh... thanks."

You walk to the other side of the bed, going around the tablet to roost on top of the untouched pillow. It's kinda hard and lumpy, but at least you're not outside. With that much water, you'd certainly shut down. You have no idea how Sylus would retrieve you if you had, way up here. A bitter part of you wonders if he would.

Miss Hunter watches as you tuck your beak under your wing. You don't really sleep during the night, but you'll manage. She slips the earphones in her ears and plays some music on her phone. The storm outside, the faint pulse of music, and her tapping on the tablet are the only sounds.

She opens the window for you in the morning, when the storm has passed. With one last warning not to follow her or report back to Sylus, she heads out for her mission and you take your time flying back home. She asked about the dove only once during your stay. A bandaid around her finger reminds her not to ask again.

-

"What time did you get back, pretty bird?" Sylus crosses the room from the doorway, fully dressed for the night and reaching out to scratch you under your chin.

You scoot away, further down your perch, glaring at the pretty white thing on his shoulder. He doesn't try to reach you. He lets you step away, hand dropping and eyebrow raised. "Are you going to be this feisty all week?"

You caw indignantly. Of course you are! That should be you perched up on his shoulder! You should be the one preening under his attention! Instead, Miss Hunter brings along a new, cute little thing, pestering him to take care of it "for her", and now it's the only bird around here he cares about.

He tsks. "You don't have to be jealous, sweetie. It's only for a week. As soon as she gets back, you'll never have to see it again."

The dove flies down from his shoulder to the perch. Your perch! You caw obscenities as you take its place on Sylus's shoulder - your rightful place. He winces at how loud you are directly in his ear, wings spread to give you a larger appearance as you speak your mind to the little dove that seems to only stare up blankly at you.

He smoothes a hand down your back. For a moment you forget how angry you are with him, too, for indulging Miss Hunter with this stupid task. For pushing you away in favor of caring for the pretty little dove. For not saying more when she called him about you. For just that moment, the firing synapses of your circuitry tingle pleasantly where his fingers brush over your feathers and seeing the dove on your perch becomes bearable as you stand on his shoulder, your favorite perch of all.

"Easy, pretty bird. It knows this is your territory," he assures. "It's still young, that's all."

And then you remember that none of this would be happening if this damn bird wasn't here.

You caw one last time at the dove, nibble harshly at Sylus's ear, and retreat through the living room door. You follow the familiar twists and turns up into the tallest heights of the base, into an alcove full of your treasures and soft bedding. You don't come up here often anymore, but it feels safe. The one spot of the house that really is just yours; no matter what Sylus says, this is his territory, you're just given more allowances than other people. And thanks to the times in the past when the twins would try to toss things up as a competition, tossing pebbles and jewels and even bullets, you have the privilege of pulling shut a little door, fully isolating yourself in your sanctuary.

Small lights turn on at the flip of a switch that makes a pleasant click. They shine and shimmer against your piles of trinkets. Coins, jewels, jewelry, a shell casing or two - all in their respective piles.

You hop over to your nest: the finest twigs woven together into a bowl shape, with strips of soft fabric lining the inside. Laying in it is like resting in cupped hands. You imagine they're Sylus's hands, clean from ever having held any other bird in his lifetime. His thumbs smoothing down your sides until your feathers are fluffed and eyes are relaxed shut. Pressing soft kisses to your head as he talks to you. You want to be cared for like that. Is the dove getting that same attention?

You get up from your nest. You can't think about it. Can't allow yourself to linger on the thought for any longer than you already have. So you sort through your things. You begin dividing them up into new piles with a different organization system. One by one, everything is shifted over. You're not sure how long it takes. You don't care.

But once you've finished, it feels wrong. Settles uneasily in your gut. Everything is out of place, even though it's all organized. Everything isn't where it should be. You spend even longer sorting it all back.

-

You squeeze your eyes shut. Tighten your hands into fists. Dig your nails into your palm as you will your shape to change. Grit your teeth as metal panels try to shift in unusual ways. Synthetic feathers standing up along your head, neck, back and arms, shuttering with the strain.

You release a breath and everything comes back together; metal in place, feathers laying flat, body un-tensed. You pant softly. Inhale deeply, and try again.

It feels wrong. It's like trying to squeeze into a too-small shirt. It won't happen, and the more you try to force it, the more it hurts, the more uncomfortable you are, and the more the fabric strains at the seams.

You gasp deeply. You're lightheaded. You wobble where you sit on the roof, supporting yourself unsteadily against the snow-laden tiles. It takes a minute to pass. Your skin feels misaligned, like a twisted sock. You try to ignore it; it just means you're a little bit closer to succeeding.

"I thought I might find you up here."

You turn away from the voice. From the sound of Sylus's shoes against the roofing. He sits down a few feet away, eyes never giving up their gaze on you. You hate it. For all the time you've known him, his attention on you has never made you uncomfortable or unsettled. Now, you wish he'd just look anywhere else. Go anywhere else.

Secretly, deep down, you're glad he's finally looking at you again.

He tilts his head. Frowns at the strange way your feathers stick up, and the odd shift of the synthetic skin on your back. "The dove is gone," he says.

You nod. "I know."

Quiet.

"Do you want me to apologize?" he asks.

You shrug. "Doesn't matter. It's gone."

"But you're still upset."

You pull your knees to your chest, but you can't pull them up as far as you'd like to. It's like there's too much strain. A rubber band drawn too far out and waiting to snap or break under the tension. You try to ignore it. Play it off. Pretend everything is normal and that this is intentional.

He doesn't buy it for a second. It's the curse of growing up with him. Of being by his side most of your lives. Of course he knows something is wrong.

You listen to the shifting of fabric behind you. Nearly jump at the feeling of cloth placed on your shoulders. His heavy black coat, long and still warm from his body. You don't feel the falling snow. Yet you can't stop yourself from pulling the front closed around you.

His fingers skillfully brush along your feathers, soothing them down with ease. And yet they keep standing back up a moment after, revealing the distress of your thoughts. Before he can say anything, you do.

"Do you wish I was a dove?"

His hand stops, pausing mid pet. He reaches out to turn you toward him. One hand on your knee to face you to him, the other on your shoulder. You wince as he does. And he notices - of course he notices. He's frowning, brow furrowed, as he pulls aside his coat to expose your legs further. You don't meet his eyes, but you feel them.

"Is that what you've been trying to do up here?" he questions, voice tight with concern and gravity. "You can't force yourself into changing-"

"But if I could, would that make you happier?"

You meet his gaze. Imploring, begging him to tell you. Tell you that he's been distant this week because he realized just how much better doves are. Because he realized how much trouble you are, mechanized and synthetic and fake. Because you aren't enough now that you can't be anything more than you are.

His large hands rise to your face, holding your cheeks, keeping your attention on him. He leans forward slightly, foreheads not quite touching. "If you could change again, I would be happy to see you become anything you wanted. Whether that means becoming a dove, or a hawk, or a hummingbird. The shape you take doesn't matter to me, because I fell in love with you. Crow, or dove, or human. Just you."

You search his eyes. Those pretty garnet eyes. Searching for any hint of a lie. But you already know he means it. "You were so dismissive of me..."

He frowns, brow pinched, but he nods. He doesn't deny it. "I know. I'm sorry."

Emotion chokes up in your throat. "You didn't even ask Miss Hunter about me. Or- Or keep that dove from getting up on your shoulder." You hate that you can feel your face crumpling as tears bite your waterline. See the pain in his face as he diligently wipes away the ones that slip free. You hate that you're so emotional over this - over a stupid bird, but- "I don't want to be replaceable. I don't want to be just a pet to you."

"You're not-"

"Then act like it!" His eyes widen, shocked by your outburst. "Just stop pushing me away for Miss Hunter. Stop... stop waving me off and ignoring me. You're all I have, Sylus. I can't- I don't want to be replaced."

A sob tears its way out of you. Sylus can't recall a time he ever saw you crying - before or after the experiments. You were always happy, or curious, or angry. But never had you cried. Synthetic tears wash down your face, and it's his fault. An ache clenches his heart like a closed fist. He did this. He pushed you away, he made you feel unworthy, unimportant. Let a dove take liberties in your territory.

He draws you into his chest, arms wrapping tightly around you. You don't resist, even as he feels your feathers standing on end. They shudder with your cries. He smoothes his palms over them. Brushes them down, scratches the nape of your neck as he gently shushes you. You press your face into his collar. Your fingers curl tightly into his shirt. You hold on. Cling to him like he'll disappear if you loosen up for even a second.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs against your head. He means it. Deeply. "I should have acted differently. You are my closest friend. My beloved. And I ignored you."

He rubs your back overtop his coat, slowly. Feeling along your spine, your shoulder blades. It's still misaligned. Shifted out of place. You're in pain - because of him.

He's careful as he gathers you into his arms. He scoops you up, cradles you against him while doing his best not to hurt you further; he can't bear the thought of making things worse than he already has. Snow crunches beneath his feet as he stands on the tiles. He turns and begins carrying you inside.

"Let's take care of you now, pretty bird."

-

Just like trying to squeeze into a too-tight shirt, the removal can be tricky. Sylus makes it seem easy.

He rotates your legs until they pop back into the ball-joint, never lingering any longer than he has to. You lay on your stomach, quietly sniffling, while he seems to massage your back, slowly easing the metal into place. Each fix releases the strain. Each soft click eases your feathers back into a resting position.

When he's finished, he helps you sit up. Your legs overhang the table, dangling in the air. He doesn't look at you at first. Busies himself with grabbing a cloth. But then he looks you in the eye as he wipes away the watery formula of your tears. His brow is tight. Lips pulled down into a frown. His eyes, filled with remorse. You can almost see the plan formulating: all the auctions he could go to to buy the shiniest, most interesting things you love to cheer you up; of all the jewels in his treasuries, which would you like the most, if he doesn't just give them all to you; where will Miss Hunter be and when to give you the perfect opportunity to play tricks on her.

You don't want any of them right now. After a week of being pushed aside, of being distant, all you want is right here in front of you.

You nudge his hand away. He obeys without hesitation, dropping the cloth to the table and holding it there, restraining himself. He watches, slightly bewildered, as you reach out for him. You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him down to your height, and hold him there.

He stands still. Doesn't do anything.

You squeeze him around his shoulders and he finally moves. Arms circle your waist, hands resting open against your back. You breathe him in, soak in his warmth. Your feathers finally relax. You finally relax.

"I don't hate you," you whisper beside his ear.

He releases a long breath, shoulders sagging under your arms. He's still tentative, still careful as he brushes his nose against your temple. "How can I make it up to you?"

A thousand diamonds. A million. No amount is too much. Nothing too far for him to reach. He would bake in the sun for a week if you said. Fly across the globe in search of the perfect pebble. Give you a whole new set of feathers, darker than midnight and softer than a kiss. He's prepared to give it all - what lengths will you have him go to absolve himself? What would it take for you to forgive him? How can he fix the damage he caused?

"Stay with me."

"You can ask for anything."

You shake your head. Turn your head to bury your face solidly in his neck. "I just want you again."

'Again' tears his heart to shreds. He scoops you up once more, trading places so he sits on the edge of the table with you in his lap. Your territory. "You'll always have me," he swears. "And I will spend lifetimes making sure you never doubt that ever again."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @nothankyew @terriblesoup @jeleryyy @nezuswritingdesk @anaathxma @ssushi @mina7820 @monophobix @mentaltrouble2201 @mskaylacharite @nerrivm @ichosesparklingtorment @schnittled @animegamerfox @flamedancer13 @rebloggingislove @moonlight-inthe-sea @persepolys @satorubabee @sleepykittycx @perla-drg @17chuuya @slovesyouuu @leiakitty @lemonn015

[sugarwarachan]

driving you crazy

pairing: tsukishima kei x f!reader andy's notes: yall wanted a part 2 and here is probably the dirtiest thing i've written in a hot minute. here's part 1 if you're new. summary: being in the same phd program as tsukishima kei was already the worst, and that was before you and the snarky bastard were tasked to teach the same class together. after a late-night run-in at the library leaves you breathless, what will happen when you attend the same conference together? content warnings: SMUT, degradation, name kink, impact play, orgasm denial, brat reader, dom!tsukki word count: 2.5k art credit: @ynk_vv2 on x

Neither of you mention the library. 

In fact, two entire months pass by without a word uttered about the incident, and a part of you wonders if you imagined it all along.

The only difference is that Tsukishima is now disarmingly polite; curt in his civility, even, where before he would tease, annoy, and complain to you. Now you have no one in the program to really talk to at all.

Which makes attending this stupid fucking conference with him nightmarish beyond belief. 

You hate being forced to attend events just to network; neither of you are even presenting papers. It's so infuriating that all you can think to do is excuse yourself early for the evening and return to your room.

Because the other thing that sucks about attending this conference with him? 

You’re so horny you can barely think straight. 

An hour later, you're punching pillows in frustration and throwing your vibrator across the bed.

“Fucking seriously?!?” you shriek into the pillow, kicking your feet up and down like a toddler. You feel entitled to it, honestly; not even porn helped this time, and you’re laying in the dark, unable to cum, because of one fucking make-out session in the library.

Sighing, you swing out of bed and pad into the hallway. Cleaning a sex toy is a better use of your time than lamenting the loss of your orgasm.

The bathroom door creaks open. 

Tsukishima, clad in low-slung pajama bottoms and a thin cotton shirt, steps out.

“Oh. Y/n.” His gaze drops to the rose. 

And just - stays there. 

Mortification creeps up your neck. This is hell, you decide. No one could have designed a more appropriate way to torture you.

“Are you just gonna fucking stare at me?" You inject as much casual bravado as you can into your voice. "I masturbate. Big deal.”

“Did it work?”

“Excuse me?”

He takes a step forward. It’s so reminiscent of the library that you nearly fall into the same pattern of stepping away. This time, you stand your ground.

“Did you cum?”

Oh.

You weren’t expecting that.

Heat skitters over your skin. You look up at him,  the gold of his eyes overwhelmed by the black of his pupils.

“No.”

Tsukishima smiles. “Good.”

And then his mouth slants over yours.

You moan into the kiss, fingers tangling into his hair and scraping his scalp. He cups your cheek and trails a hand down your back to press you closer. 

“Go back to your room,” he says into your mouth before pulling away completely. “I’ll be there soon.”

You wobble back to your room on shaky legs and immediately sink onto the bed. 

You’re not quite sure what to make of the fact that it’s been weeks since he’s even talked to you like he used to, and now he’s kissing you like a man going off to war. 

The soft snick of the door jamb opening and closing sounds off like a bullet in the silence of your room. 

Tsukishima is always an overwhelming presence, but he takes up so much of the door frame that you can’t quite think of anything else. 

He’s so big, you think, a little stupidly, as if you’ve never noticed—and actively appreciated—how he fills out those stupid sweaters he’s always wearing. 

His eyes rake over your tank top in a way that makes your nipples tighten.

“Hi,” you say. 

“Hi yourself.”

You weren’t expecting him to move so fast, but he’s suddenly on top of you, kissing you with a burning mixture of finesse and care as his hips press you down. The hard outline of his cock bumps against your pussy, and fuck, you’re already wet, just from this. 

Why is it so good?

“I don’t know,” Tsukishima’s saying into your neck, and fuck, you hadn’t meant to say that part out loud. “You drive me fucking crazy, and yet you’re the only person I think about.”

He sucks at your pulse point and rolls his hips. You fist handfuls of his hair, tugging and scratching, anything to get him closer to you. He hisses between his teeth.

“You’re always so impatient, you know that?” He taps the waistband of your sleep shorts. “Let me take these off, y/n.”

He hooks your ankles over his shoulders and lifts up your hips, coaxing your shorts off.

He smirks. “Knew you’d be naked under these.” 

“Did the failed masturbation give it away?”

He yanks you up and settles you into his lap, clothed cock slotting in between your folds. You stifle your whimper just in time.

“Just let me make you feel good, for fuck’s sake.” He grinds you down onto him, and this time the whimper falls from your lips unguarded. “Why do you always have to be so goddamn stubborn?”

Your arms tighten around his neck, breath shuddering into the hollow of his throat. His hands tighten on your waist.

“I don’t know,” you admit.

He spreads your folds with his fingers.

“You don’t know?” Tsukishima lightly traces your clit. The word more is blurry in your head and before you know it, you’re saying it out loud, the ache in your pussy overwhelming, desperate to be filled.

“Please, Tsukki. Stop fucking teasing me.”

He laughs against your hair. “I’m the tease? Not the woman walking down the hallway in the tiniest pajamas I’ve ever seen holding a sex toy and telling me she hasn’t cum?”

The arm at your back tightens around your neck.

“If you don’t know why you’re being stubborn, then maybe you don’t deserve to cum, sweetheart.” He says the pet name all sickly-sweet, like he’s delivering bad news to an enemy. 

You wish it didn’t make your stomach swoop.

You wish it didn’t make you talk back against your better judgment, either.

You grip his shirt in your hands and pull his face close.

“I’m being stubborn because the last person I want to want is you, but here we are. Happy now?”

He grins. “Immensely.”

He pulls his shirt off his head and pushes you down in the same go, positioning himself in between your legs.

“Never thought I’d get you to admit that,” he says, biting the inside of your thigh. “Guess you get your reward after all.”

You’ve always noticed Tsukki’s fingers. Calloused and long, the number of times you thought they would curl into you just right bordered on the criminal. But nothing could have prepared you for how well his fingers actually spread you apart.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he breathes out, sinking two fingers into your core with ease. His other hand holds your hips down, the possessive splay over your lower belly shooting sparks of pleasure up your spine. “Anyone else ever get you like this?”

You grab his wrist, pressing your hips against the heel of his palm. “You really want to talk about my other sexual partners right now?” 

“If I’m better than them, then yes,” he says, fingers moving agonizingly slow. You glance down quickly enough to catch his self-satisfied smile. “I’m competitive.”

He rubs your g spot; you immediately clamp your thighs around his hand.

“Shouldn’t you be all the more desperate to get me off, then?”

The sigh that escapes him is total frustration. “This is what I mean about being stubborn, y/n.”

Before you have time to blink, he flips you over onto your stomach and pulls you flush against his hips.

He bends over you, mouth close to your ear. “How about we strike a little bargain, huh? You say my name, and I’ll make you cum.”

What the fuck is he talking about?

“Tsukishima—“

He grips your face and tilts your head back.

“Not that name, sweetheart.”

Oh the little fucker. 

“You wanna hear it so bad, make me say it.”

He lets out a low chuckle and drops your chin, palming the back of your head so you’re face-down in the mattress.

“Really?” he asks, fingers tracing along your slit. You’re embarrassingly wet, practically dripping down your thighs. His hand cracks across your ass. A moan rips through you; your hands scrabble at the sheets.

“You can never just obey, can you?”

He smacks you again, pain blossoming out from the impact and turning into pleasure.

“A simple direction, and you fight me on it. Do you get off on torturing me?”

“You know I do,” you breathe out. You wish you could see him, watch his eyes as he pulls you apart like this. All you can hear is his breathing, erratic and strained.

“Guess it’s only fair I repay the favor.”

Another slap to your ass. He’s not gentle with it, and the blinding crack of pain makes your chest go hollow. You feel dizzy, out of control.

You feel wonderful.

One more smack resounds in the air. Unbidden, you thrust your hips back at him, each slice of pain he inflicts making your pussy throb. 

“The sounds you’re making, baby. Do you have any fucking idea what you do to me?”

I’m beginning to, you think. 

You reach for his hand, wanting his fingers back inside of you, anything to stop his teasing. He just slaps your hand away and pins it behind your back, leaning down to snatch up your other wrist. He cages your arms behind you and pulls you back up against his chest. 

One hand trails down your hip, a low laugh tickling your ear when your hips push forward. 

“Eager for it, are we?”

“Fuck you.”

“Always so antagonistic,” he says before kissing the side of your neck. He almost sounds fond. 

“Do you need me to beg?”

“I already told you what I want. You just insist on not giving it to me.” He nips your ear before traveling over the nape of your neck. A broad palm holds you in place.

He just holds you there, seconds ticking by. 

If you say his name, this might end. 

And if this ends, you have no fucking clue what you’ll do. 

Your body doesn’t care about your mental struggle. You try to shift your thighs together to relieve the ache; Tsukishima tuts. 

“You are the most stubborn, infuriating—”

“Please, Kei.”

Instantly, two of his fingers slide in, the stretch so full, so good, that you nearly buckle to the bed if not for his support. 

“Was that so hard?” he coos. 

A soft cry falls from your mouth while he strokes the inside of your pussy with his long fingers. 

“That's it, baby. Ride my fingers and keep making those pretty noises for me.”

Grinding your hips against the heel of his hand, he keeps curling his fingers just the way you like, the rhythm sure and slow. You’re panting, hips chasing his fingers every time he draws them back out. 

He bends you back down, pressing his chest to your back, hips flush with your ass. He’s straining against his pajama bottoms, dick jumping against you every single time you grind back on him. “God, you little fucking tease. Greedy pussy of yours needs more than just my fingers to cum this time, doesn’t she? Where’s your rose?”

“It’s in the nightstand drawer,” you manage. 

He fumbles for it in the dark and then hands you the vibrator. 

“Keep it on your clit while I take care of you.”

When you turn it on, you bury your face into the mattress to swallow the near pornographic whine that bursts from your mouth. Tsukishima’s fingers take up the slow, sure rhythm from before as the rose’s vibrations ratchet you higher and higher. 

“Push me down,” you say. He inhales sharply. One hand settles over your shoulder blades. “Push my hips down on the bed and make me take it.”

He makes a sound that is half growl, half frustrated grunt. He complies instantly, pressing you down and kicking your hips apart so your belly is flat against the bed, vibrator driving into your clit with every thrust of his fingers.

Your knees tremble, thighs shaking as the slow curl of your orgasm unfurls in your core. 

“There it is.” His voice is rough, possessive. You’ve never heard him sound like this. “Let me hear you, baby, tell me who’s making you feel this good.”

You’re not sure what he’s hearing apart from a garbled mixture of moaning and sobbing as you drool into the sheets. He fists your hair at the root and wraps it around his wrist, pulling your head back. 

He’s so rough with you it makes your head spin. 

His broad palm collars your throat. “Say my fucking name when you cum.” 

The growl in his voice, the grip on your neck; you’re cumming before you even have time to prepare.

“Kei kei kei kei,” you wail into the sheets, pleasure rocketing over your limbs. Your vision blacks out for a moment, heart pounding in your ears. 

You've never cum like that, not in your entire life.

Tsukishima kisses the back of your neck, softly sweeping the sweaty hair at the nape. The gesture is so unbearably intimate you nearly shy away from him, but the thought blinks bright in your brain: You don’t want a repeat of last time. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, and you just nod, too exhausted for much else. He pads into the bathroom. You roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling, plotting what to say. 

The bed dips when he returns. He hands you a washcloth, brow raised. 

“I would help, but you seem to be against that most of the time.”

You suppress your retort. He’s right; you only hate that he’s right. 

“Did you?” You trail off, gesturing limply toward his lap where his cock tents the front of his pajamas. 

Holy fuck, he’s big. 

Tsukishima just looks at you blankly. 

“What happened wasn’t transactional, y/n. I don’t need something in exchange.”

God, why are you always fucking up with him like this?

Your whole body wobbles as you sit up, tank top askew. You forgot you still had it on. 

“But if I wanted to?”

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you’re blown back by what you see. 

Vulnerability. 

He smiles. “Then I might just be honored.”

You press your lips to his, feather-light. Somehow, the enormity of this situation feels too fragile in your hands, like one wrong move will crush the both of you. His arms tighten around you. He lifts you into his lap, hands pressing into your waist, your hips, the undersides of your breasts. 

He tastes vaguely of you. You imagine him licking the cum off his hands as he cleaned up in the bathroom and you groan against him.

“I want to make you feel good, too. Will you let me?”

aaaayyyyooooooo - perhaps some tsukki pov next? 😏 masterlist here. reblogs and comments always appreciated!! <3

bby taglist <3 @tabi-kat, @localfandomjumper

[nemisuki]

𐔌✧.* ꜱᴘᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

ೀ⋆ || Just your man driving over to protect you from a cat caller, he’d even break the law for you ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 

. ♬ ݁˖ || inspo song : spotify version & yt version ᯓ★ 

ᝰ.ᐟ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, pure fluff, acts of service, 1.5k word count •°. *࿐

To say your boyfriend was a bit protective… certainly turned out to be the biggest understatement of the century. 

You should’ve assumed from the moment you two started dating that he would be like this, whenever a man would so much as stare at you — a little too long for his liking — the blonde would quickly step in front of you, blocking their line of sight.

All while glaring absolute daggers at the onlooker.

He would never immediately tell you though, not wanting to interrupt whatever you were rambling on about.

Plus he knew it always made you feel uneasy, always clinging to his side whenever he muttered something along the lines of “fucking creep is starin’ at you” or “walk closer to me yeah?”

Because Katsuki Bakugo was never one to play about his woman. 

You smile at the familiar contact under ‘Blasty💥’ as your phone begins to buzz, already imagining an impatient man behind the screen, whose no doubt waiting for you to answer. 

So you do, continuing to walk down the streets under the night sky, holding the mobile device against your ears, not even having time to speak since he beats you to it. 

“Where are you hah?”

You giggle.

“Wow, not even a hello Katsuki?”

He grumbles through the speaker, the sound of a car door closing — of his Porsche no doubt — echoing in the background, meaning he must’ve already finished his patrol, already preparing to head home. 

Likely calling you in case you were nearby. 

“Yeah yeah, hi or whatever. Now answer the question, dumbass.”

You hum.

“I’m walking home right now, stopped by the store to grab us some dinner—”

“Tch, I told yur’ ass to stop doin’ that, I can cook dammit.”

You can hear the way his car engine switches on in an instant, soon buckling on his seat belt, clearly determined to pick you up.

This man sure is a force of nature, but deep down, a massive softie… well maybe only to you.

Your eyes soften.

“I know but you’ve been really busy this week, thought we could eat takeout and watch a movie or something.”

It’s silent for a moment, and it honestly made you wonder if he was genuinely upset, I mean… you suppose he does enjoy being in the kitchen — cooking amazing meals whenever given the opportunity.

You slow down your stride. 

“Oh I’m sorry Kats, I should’ve asked first—“

He scoffs.

“Stop apologizing nerd, I was just checking your location. Stay where you are, yeah? I’ll be there in 15.... and the food better be damn good.”

You couldn’t help the cheesy smile that formed on your face, finding his last few words so stinkin' cute as he attempts to reassure you.

Deciding to stand near an open diner, you continue filling in Katsuki about your day, unlike him — having a relatively calm job at one of the local shops around here — despite the blonde constantly reminding you that it’s okay to not work anymore.

Since you quote on quote “shouldn’t be paying for anything in the fucking first place” because you have him. 

You didn’t mind though, it helped you keep busy whenever he wasn’t around and a few extra dollars to your name couldn't hurt!

For the most part, it was a relatively peaceful night — for the most part.

Until something suddenly switched in the air, the feeling of someone watching, sent a wave of uneasiness through your veins, temporarily distracting you from Katsuki's voice on the line.

You look around, taking notice of a man sitting a few steps away in his car, shamelessly staring you down with a gaze that screams danger.

Unsure of what to do, you simply try to ignore it, in hopes he’ll eventually look away, but he didn’t, so in order to avoid any further interactions — you grab your bags, starting to search for another place to wait at. 

Already hearing disgusting comments the man was making about your appearance; an obnoxious cat caller per usual.

It was beyond discomforting.

And Katsuki being perceptive as he is, took notice of your sudden silence, his brows furrowing as he glanced at the phone on the dashboard.

“Oi, you still there?”

You jolt out of your spiraling thoughts, mustering up the best response you could say with a — very much phony — relaxed tone, not wanting to alarm the blonde.

“Hm? Oh yeah sorry… I was just—"

Though you should’ve known it was futile, this is Katsuki Bakugo we’re talking about, the 5th ranking pro hero that’s known for being a key strategist on the battlefield.

His fingers tighten against the steering wheel, all alarms going off in his head.

“What happened? Tell me.”

“It's nothing—“

The blondes jaw clenches, sharp crimson eyes peeking at your location once again, huffing with increasing annoyance. 

“Don’t lie to me dumbass, I can see you walking when I specifically told you to stay put. Plus I heard the way yur' breathing spiked up, anyone ever told you — you’re a horrible liar?”

You sigh with defeat, now standing in front of a local convenience store, anxiously looking around to make sure the guy didn’t follow close behind.

“Well… a guy was staring really hard from his car a few seconds ago, so I moved spots, but I don’t think he’s following me. He just wouldn’t look away ya' know?”

He mumbles incoherent curses through the phone, already stepping on the gas pedal with shimmering rage, his muscles tensing up at the nervous tone you horribly try to hide. 

"Did the bastard say anything to you?"

Your silence was all he needed.

He uses one hand to swiftly maneuver through the passing cars, moving from one lane to the next, accelerating as best as he could without causing danger to those around.

This would surely be in the media tomorrow, breaking news and headlines — Number 5, Pro Hero Dynamight causing mayhem on the freeway — the controversy will probably drop him a rank or two, but he didn't give a damn.

Not when an asshole is making you feel troubled.

“Go inside the store and if you see him approaching then tell the cashier okay? Just wait a little longer, don’t fucking hang up ya' hear?”

“Alright…”

You quickly make your way inside, aimlessly roaming the aisles of bagged chips and colorful candy wrappers, trying to take your mind off the whole incident.

And much to your disbelief, Katsuki makes it there in under 5 minutes, the time so absurd that you’re almost positive he drove past a few red lights at full speed, as if he’ll ever admit to that to you though. 

Instant relief floods your veins as you see him rush through the automatic doors, his chest slightly heaving — as if he ran straight out of his car — eyes snapping around each part of the relatively empty store for his gaze to eventually land on your figure.  

And he’s at your side before you could even blink.

His arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, making sure you’re unharmed and safely tucked against him.

While his other hand cups your cheek, the blonde's voice having a softer yet gruff undertone to it. 

“You okay, baby?”

You absolutely melt in his embrace.

Nuzzling into his palm, smiling up at him as your heart stammers with newfound affection, he almost never uses nicknames, or even is this touchy in public — yet he seems to have forgotten all about that in this very moment. 

“Mhm, 'm sorry I made you worry.”

He shakes his head, keeping his arm around your waist as he leads you outside, where his sleek black car is parked in all its glory. 

“I said to stop apologizing woman, and remind me to get you pepper spray when we get home, fucking creeps all over the damn city…”

You smile, standing on your tippy toes to press a soft kiss to his lips, unable to resist showing your savior some love. 

“Thank you for saving me Dynamight~”

He tenses up, clearly caught off guard, his cheeks flushing in a soft pink as he hesitantly opens the passenger door for you, taking the bags and avoiding your gaze entirely — he’s so cute. 

Such a rough exterior with a heart of a kitten; the blonde clears his throat. 

“Just get in already, stupid… and it's Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, say it right!"

"Oh my god Kats—"

You burst out in laughter, already hopping inside as he shuts the door behind you, moving to place the bags in the back seat.

And although he may not realize, you can see it through the side mirrors, a small smile on his face as he shuts the back door. 

Of course, you made sure to show him extra love when you two got home, cuddling up to him on the couch as you two snacked on their takeout, the man attempting to act aloof but his gentle eyes said another thing.

That protecting your smile was always his main priority, even over the world.

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ᴀ/ɴ ||| hi my beautiful flowers! i hope u liked this fic of me gushing over driver bkg — the fact that he could drive is EXTREMELY attractive, i just know he uses one hand on the wheel hehe... now time for me to go, plus ultra! ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ ᴛᴀɢꜱ ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 @qyuin @sunnyalmighty (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

[wordsofwhimsy]

❀ꗥ～𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ～ꗥ❀

❀ꗥ～ Sinister!Mark Edition! Part Two! ～ꗥ❀

Pairing: Sinister!Mark Grayson x Southern Belle!Reader

Warnings: Forced intimacy, slow-burn terror, 18+

Tags: Horrorcore tbh LMAO, but also kinda tender - only make it creepy as hell

Word Count: 2,477

Synopsis: You fed the stranger bleeding in your yard. He kissed you like a claim, then left like a dream. You think it’s over – until you wake up to a figure at the foot of your bed.

a/n: this is so dark – but i had to y’allll the first part didn’t really capture how FUCKED this man is.

read part one ❀ꗥ～Here!～ꗥ❀ you can start reading the main series ❀ꗥ～Here! ～ꗥ❀

You freeze.

Not because it’s romantic—not because your heart’s fluttering.

But because something primal deep in your bones tells you: This man is not kissing you out of love.

His mouth is on yours like it’s a claim, not a question. Like he's sealing something. Ownership. Territory. Hunger, still—but darker now. More certain.

When he pulls back, your breath comes shallow—not from want, but from instinct.

You do not flinch.

You do not make a sound.

You just blink up at him, slow and measured, and give a little breathless laugh like you’re surprised, not alarmed.

“Well,” you say, steadying your voice like you’re smoothing wrinkles out of a tablecloth. “That was forward.”

He stares at you. Watching. Waiting. His eyes still lit up like coals. He doesn’t seem confused. He’s not embarrassed. He’s assessing.

You smile—small. Soft. The kind you might give a bear sniffin’ at your front porch, hoping it wanders off before you need to reach for the rifle.

“I, uh... I reckon city boys don’t believe much in personal space, huh?”

He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t move.

So you tilt your head, gentle-like. Lower your voice.

“But let me just say, sugar... when someone feeds you and lets you in their home, that don’t mean they’re offerin’ themselves, now. That just means they were raised right.”

He blinks once.

Still not moving.

You take a careful step sideways—not backward. Just enough to break the tension without lookin’ like you’re scared. Hands loose. Smile easy.

“Why don’t we take a breath, huh? It’s been a long night. You look like you’re still half in fight-or-flight mode.”

He watches your every move.

Your next breath is slow. Even.

“Now, I ain’t mad,” you say lightly. “But I do think maybe you’re a little off-kilter, what with the blood, the heat, and the fact that you ain’t slept proper in Lord knows how long.”

Finally, his expression shifts.

Just a twitch. A crack in that stone-set jaw.

“...You’re not scared of me,” he says, quiet. Confused.

You give a little shrug, even though your heart’s jackhammering in your chest.

“I got plenty of sense. Which is why I should be.” You hold his gaze. “But I also know better than to make sudden moves when a wild thing’s cornered.”

A beat passes.

Then another.

He steps back.

Just an inch. But it’s enough. The pressure in the room starts to ease, like the air’s stopped vibrating with something ready to snap.

You don’t sag with relief. You don’t run.

You just give him that same warm drawl you gave him at the grill, steady as sweet tea in July.

“Why don’t I fix you some cobbler to go?” you offer, already moving toward the counter. “You look like someone who might need a little somethin’ sweet to settle down.”

His gaze stays locked on you. But it softens—fractionally.

And you, darling southern soul that you are, keep your hands busy and your voice light.

You do not let him see how hard your hands are shaking.

The peach cobbler’s still warm from the oven as you cut a square and slide it into the container—hands steady, movements smooth, like you’re packing up a plate for a neighbor and not a walking apocalypse in a black-and-yellow suit.

Behind you, Mark hasn’t moved. You can feel him watching. Heat curling across your spine like a brand.

You hum—just a little tune you half-remember from childhood. Something calm. Domestic.

“Cobbler’s good for late nights,” you say gently, grabbing a spoon. “Sugar calms the nerves. Least, that’s what my gran used to say.”

When you finally turn, container in hand, he’s not there.

Just... gone.

No door creak. No gust of wind. No warning.

Just absence.

You stand there for a second, staring at the spot where he was. The house is too quiet. Your ears are ringing from how fast the silence hit.

Your knees buckle.

You catch the edge of the counter just in time to keep from hitting the floor. The container slips from your hand and clatters to the hardwood. The lid pops off, cobbler splattering across the floor.

You don’t care.

You press your back to the cabinet, sliding down until you’re seated, hand clutched to your chest, trying to breathe.

Holy hell.

That man had murder in his eyes and kissed you like he owned you—and then just vanished like the boogeyman out of a child’s nightmare.

You sit there a long time.

Eventually, your heartbeat settles. The cobbler stays where it is, forgotten and sticky.

You leave the kitchen light on when you go to bed.

Later that night…

You’re dreaming of hickory smoke and flickering porch lights. Of trees splitting open like paper and red eyes watching you through the dark.

Your sleep is light. Uneasy. Heat clinging to your skin like sweat.

You twitch awake, opening your eyes to the quiet.

The fan buzzes softly in the window, rattling every few seconds in its loose frame. The bedroom is dim, lit only by the haze of moonlight slipping in through the curtains, casting long shadows that stretch across the walls. For a few long moments, it feels like any other night in Georgia—hot, heavy, and still.

You shift beneath the sheets, trying to shake the lingering weight of the dream, the way it made your skin crawl even in sleep. Your hand moves to adjust the blanket, to tuck it under your chin—

And then you freeze.

There’s a shape in the room that wasn’t there before.

Not the armoire. Not the chair. Something taller. Broader.

Someone.

It takes a second too long for your brain to catch up. To understand.

A man is standing at the foot of your bed.

He’s not moving. Not breathing. Just there—watching.

You open your mouth, instinct flaring like a spark to dry kindling, but the scream barely begins before he’s already on you.

You don’t hear him move. There’s no sound—not even the creak of a floorboard. Just a rush of air and then his weight pins you down, hand clamped tight over your mouth.

The panic is instant and white-hot, a lightning strike behind your ribs. You stare up at him, wild-eyed.

Mark.

He looks different now. No more blood. No torn seams. His suit is intact, his skin clean, as if he bathed in a river and walked barefoot through hell to get back here. Moonlight cuts across his face, catching on the burn of his eyes—still that unnatural, glowing red that feels more furnace than human.

He’s not smiling.

He’s calm.

Like this is natural. Like breaking into your bedroom in the dead of night and holding you down is just another part of the ritual. Like you invited him in.

“Shhh,” he murmurs, low and close. His voice curls in your ear, thick and warm like molasses. “It’s just me.”

You try to speak—can’t. Your body is all panic.

“You were dreaming,” he adds, like that explains something. Like that’s why he’s here. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, gentle in a way that makes it worse.  

He shifts his weight slightly, still straddling your legs, still in complete control. His hands settle on either side of you, caging you in. He studies your face like he’s reading a map he plans to memorize.

“I told you I’d come back,” he finally says, voice just a rough murmur.

You summon every ounce of your composure, every trick you’ve ever learned from dealing with cornered animals and temperamental men.

“I remember,” you say softly. “But you didn’t have to... sneak in. I left the porch light on.”

He huffs a small breath through his nose, something that could be a laugh. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

Your fingers curl into the bedsheet.

“Well,” you murmur, offering him the same soft lilt you gave him over ribs and sweet tea, “I reckon the horse is already out the barn on that one, sugar.”

Mark leans down slowly, not quite touching you, but close enough that the fan’s weak breeze can’t reach between your bodies. His eyes flicker across your face—your mouth, your throat, your eyes again.

“You were dreaming about me.”

You stiffen.

“I—I don’t know what I was dreaming about,” you say carefully, trying to sound calm, not accusing. “It’s all a blur.”

“No.” His voice is firmer now, almost possessive. “You were scared. I could feel it.”

You want to ask how. Want to ask what the hell he means. But you’re too afraid the answer will be something you won’t survive.

Instead, you nod—just once.

“Maybe I was,” you admit. “But it was just a dream. Nothin’ more.”

Mark doesn’t respond right away. He just watches you for a long, drawn-out moment that scrapes across your nerves like a dull blade. When he finally does move, it’s slow—deliberate.

He sits back, still on the bed, but no longer pinning you down. One of his hands trails along the edge of the blanket, straightening it. Tucking it around your leg. Like he’s tucking you in.

The gesture is too tender. Too quiet.

Your skin prickles.

“I like it here,” he murmurs. “It’s peaceful.”

You nod again, trying not to let your breathing betray you.

“Well... that’s Georgia for you.” There’s a pause, and you find yourself scrambling to fill the silence—to ease the tension. A pause. “…You hungry again, sugar?”

That smile widens. This time, it is a little cruel.

“No.” There’s another pause, then his hand reaches down, fingers brushing against your wrist. Barely a touch. “I didn’t come for food.”

You swallow hard.

You think you might still be dreaming. You hope you are.

But he’s real. And he’s watching you like you’re his now. Like you never had a say.       

He leans down again.

You don’t flinch. You don’t move at all.

His hand cradles your jaw, thumb brushing lightly along the edge of your cheek. Gentle. Reverent. Like he thinks you’re something sacred—but only because he already owns you. His lips find yours a moment later.

And the kiss is slow.

God, it’s slow.

Not desperate. Not wild like before. Just deliberate. Controlled. His mouth molds to yours with surprising softness, coaxing your lips to part, drawing out a breath you didn’t mean to give. His hand slides along your neck, thumb ghosting over your pulse, feeling every panicked thump beneath your skin.

Your body tenses—and then betrays you.

Your breath stutters. Your spine arches just slightly, instinctive. And when his tongue brushes the edge of your lower lip, you feel heat bloom low in your belly like it’s been waiting for an excuse. You don’t lean in—but you don’t pull back, either.

You can’t.

Because you’re not sure what he’ll do if you do.

When he finally pulls away, it’s only by an inch. His breath fans over your lips, warm and steady. You can still feel the shape of his mouth on yours.

“You taste like sleep,” he says quietly. “Like warmth and sugar and something I want to keep.”

You laugh—barely—a tiny, forced breath of sound that trembles at the edges.

“Guess you’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth, then.”

His grin widens.

This time, it’s wicked. Possessive.

A little inhuman.

He leans in slow again, savoring it—like this moment, this closeness, is a treat he's earned. His lips brush yours again, not demanding but deliberate. Controlled. It’s a kiss designed to unravel you—not with heat, but with certainty. Like he’s making a point.

His hand slides lower.

Not rough. Not rushed.

Just certain.

Fingers tracing the line of your hip, slipping beneath the blanket, then the thin cotton of your sleep shorts. You go still—every nerve screaming silently—but you don’t stop him. You can’t.

He finds the spot easily.

He doesn’t linger. Doesn’t need to.

Just a single touch—slow, perfect pressure to the soft bud of nerves that makes your breath hitch and your back stiffen. The sound slips out before you can trap it—a quiet, involuntary moan, half-formed and helpless.

And he lives for it.

You feel the satisfaction ripple through him, a deep breath in, almost a sigh. Like that sound—that one tiny, traitorous reaction—was what he came for.

He withdraws his hand slowly, carefully, like he’s closing the lid on something fragile.

Mark watches you a moment longer, then sighs through his nose—content, almost. Like a man finally home after a long journey. He shifts slowly, sliding off your hips, his weight leaving your body with a strange reluctance.

But he doesn’t leave.

Instead, he slips beneath the sheet like he belongs there.

Like this is his bed now, too.

His arm winds around your waist without ceremony, anchoring you against the solid heat of his chest. His other hand finds your hip, fingers splaying out possessively, thumb dragging lazy little arcs along the thin cotton of your nightshirt.

You’re frozen, every muscle taut, every nerve screaming. But he just hums low in his throat, like you’ve soothed something ancient and snarling inside him.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs against your ear. His breath is warm on your skin, lips brushing the fine hairs at your temple. “You need your rest.”

You swallow hard, still staring at the wall, unmoving. Your heart pounds so loud it’s a wonder he can’t hear it echoing off your bones.

His grip tightens slightly—not painful, just reminding. Like a leash being drawn snug.

“We’ve got a big day tomorrow,” he adds, soft as prayer. “Don’t want you too tired.”

You don’t ask what he means.

You don’t want to know.

Your eyes are wide open now, fixed on the moonlight shifting across the wall. You nod, just once—enough to make him loosen his hold by a fraction, enough to sell the lie.

“Alright,” you whisper.

His lips press to the back of your neck, slow and deliberate.

“Good girl,” he breathes.

Then stillness.

Not silence—because you can hear everything. The steady thrum of the fan. The cicadas buzzing outside. The distant bark of a dog.

And his breathing. Slow. Calm. Measured. He’s at peace now, wrapped around you like a shroud.

You stay exactly where you are. You don’t blink. You don’t breathe too deep.

Because you can feel the truth of it in your bones—if he even senses you’re pretending, you won’t survive the night.

So you lie there. Perfect. Still.

Awake until the light comes.

And all the while, his breath stirs the hair at the nape of your neck, warm and steady, like a man sleeping beside the love of his life.

Like you aren’t a cage he’s decided to live inside.

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

His Girls

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Prompt -  “Don’t hurt him! Just stop hurting him, please!”

Notes - SPOILERS FOR THE LAST OF US SEASON 2, EPISODE 2! Another fix it fic!! Joel Miller & Reader, Ellie Williams & Reader, Tommy Miller & Reader

You and Ellie were the total opposite of one another when it came to feelings. You openly said how you felt, realising that in this world there was a chance everything could be ripped away from you. You never suppressed how you felt, you’d call something what it was. So when you openly called Joel dad for the first time, the poor man’s heart stuttered and he looked as if the world had been pulled out from under his feet before he softened. Ellie never did and it didn’t matter. Joel didn’t need the girl to say it, you all knew Ellie looked at Joel the same, you all knew what you were to each other.

As your journey to Jackson went on, the three of you only became closer and closer. When you’d finally settled in the community a part of you feared losing that, when you weren’t forced within so close proximity, struggling to survive, you worried you wouldn’t be as close, though it turned out it was a useless thought to have. If anything Jackson had brought you closer. 

Until Ellie started giving Joel the cold shoulder that was. 

New Year’s Eve was the worst of it, Joel having rough handled someone who dared speak badly against Ellie and Ellie losing her cool with Joel. 

You sighed as you let yourself walk past the house you still stayed in with Joel and went to Ellie’s in the back, watching as the girl glared at you as you let yourself in without bothering to knock. 

“What?” Here to defend Joel?” She snapped. 

“Ellie,” you sighed, sitting on the end of her bed. “Joel has only ever…what he did makes him, Joel. I’m not just talking about tonight, I’m talking about five years ago. Since the start Joel has only ever wanted to protect us.”

“He ruined any chance of a cure.” Ellie insisted and your nostrils flared, you’d heard her argument for months now but never said much back. 

“There was no cure!” You finally snapped, unable to hear the same thing again when you knew the truth. “There was never a cure, Ellie. Whatever that fucking doctor was gonna do wouldn’t have worked! Joel knew that, Marlene knew that. Their plan was half baked and it wouldn’t have worked! Hell even if it had a chance of working it would have been years back when they still had functioning labs! Joel was never gonna let you die anyway but he definitely wasn’t gonna let them kill you for nothing!”

Ellie was silent, looking at you with an unreadable expression and you hoped you were getting through to her but then she turned away, breaking eye contact with you. 

You sighed again and stood up, making your way to the door, stopping before you stepped out. 

“He loves you, El, we both know that. There isn’t anything more important to him than me and you. Just…” You sighed, voice trailing off. “You know this is killing him.”

With that you left and Ellie sighed. She leaned back against her pillow and promised herself she’d invite Joel out on patrol tomorrow. 

“Coming out?” Ellie asked you, looking less than happy. 

“What happened to you?” You asked, walking alongside her. 

“I was gonna invite Joel out on patrol, make amends and all that shit.” She told you, glaring as you grinned with satisfaction, finally having got through to her.

“Oh yeah, he took your girlfriend out instead.” Your grin widened even more as Ellie’s glare intensified.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” She grumbled out, looking away from you, hoping to hide the pink on her cheeks.

You laughed in delight but let the subject drop for now, letting Ellie lead you to the stables. It didn’t take long to get saddled up and before long the two of you headed out to patrol.

The cold was getting to you, your teeth chattered together and you were shivering fiercely, hard enough that Ellie tied the horses off and led you into a building, the storm too bad to ride in anyway.

“So,” You asked after a while, more than content to sit and wait out the storm with Ellie. “You finally gonna let Joel off the hook?

“I miss him.” Ellie finally confessed after a few minutes of silence where you had thought she was just going to ignore the question. 

You felt your heart ache for the girl, knowing that she rarely spoke about how she felt at the best of times but admitting to missing Joel, she must have been hurting.

“You know, I don’t…you can both say there was never really a cure but I just think, man what if? What if that one was the one thing I was meant to do? But then I think, what if someone was gonna kill Joel? I’d kill them, Y/N/N.” Ellie’s voice was shaky and you smiled sadly over at her.

“Can’t think of the what if’s, there are no what if’s. The only other outcome was Joel not killing them and you dying for nothing. That’s how it would have played out. Even if there was some cure in your head, nobody would know how to get it.”

Ellie frowned at your words but then nodded and you sighed softly, glad it was finally breaking through, glad she was ready to forgive Joel.

“Joel was never gonna let you die, Ellie. He’s done lots of things but letting you die? That’s something he’s never gonna do.” You said softly and Ellie nodded, knowing there was nothing she could say to that.

A Joel Miller that let any harm come to his girls wasn’t Joel Miller.

The conversation turned less serious after that. You and Ellie were laughing over nothing either of you could recall when the radio stuttered to life asking Joel to check in, the voice sounded panicked enough that your nerves were set on edge. 

“Repeat that!” You snapped, snatching the radio from the floor, panic building and Ellie looked at you wide eyed.

“Y/N, you seen Joel? He hasn’t checked in for a while.” The voice on the other end asked and you felt your world turn at even the possibility of something happening with Joel.

“Shit no, where was he last?”

You and Ellie immediately headed to the horses, forcing them to move as quickly as possible, only to be stopped by a massive herd of walkers, your horses rearing up and you headed up the mountain, frowning as you saw Joel and Dina’s horses in front of a cabin. 

“I don’t like this.” You murmured to Ellie as you dismounted your own horses and Ellie shook her head, her hand gripping her gun tighter as the two of you made your way into the cabin. 

Your heart stopped as you entered the room, seeing Joel on the floor half dead and bloody. The shock of the scene was all the group needed and before you could even fight back you and Ellie were on the floor, forced to look at Joel as the girl beat the broken man some more. 

It didn’t even look like Joel, you’d never seen him look like this. Even at his worst he was still an unshakeable force, even when he was clutching his heart and struggling for air you knew if something went wrong in that minute he’d flop. 

But this…this terrified you. Joel couldn’t get up, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t even groan out in pain anymore. His eyes were on you and Ellie, knowing what was to come and hating that his girls were going to have to see it, and you couldn’t look away. 

You couldn’t breathe, your heart was hammering wildly in your chest, hoping like hell you could get Joel out of this alive, even if it killed you. 

The girl battered her fists into Joel again and again and the man holding you forced you harder against the floor as you thrashed. 

You were begging, pleading, a mess of sobs and tears but Abby doesn’t listen, if anything the begging seems to give her satisfaction. 

“Joel, get up! Get up, Joel.” Ellie begged him and your breath hitched as he tried, god he tried so hard to move but he was beaten too bad. Ellie realised it too as she switched from begging Joel to begging the girl hurting him, desperate for her to stop.

Finally she did and you watched as the girl leaned next to Joel, raising the rod and your blood ran cold, knowing what she was going to do. 

It’s not until you choke out the most devastated sounding “Dad please!” that Abby paused, the rod froze mid air and that’s all you needed, that one pause was all you needed. Sheer desperation had you forcing the man holding you off of you, he was on the ground before he knew it. The moment seemed to stretch on forever as you moved before anyone could register it, pulling out your knife and burying it in the side of Abby’s neck without a moment of hesitation, watching with a twisted sense of satisfaction as she choked, blood spraying and splattering before she fell to the floor and you whipped your gun out, Ellie scrambling up and the two of you took down the rest of Abby’s group. 

You felt exhausted by the end of it, knees buckling just as you made it to Joel’s side, watching as Ellie lay with him and you sat down next to him, both holding one of his hands and feeling like the air had been sucked from you as he squeezed them back. 

Reassurance that he was alive.

You hardly remembered struggling to get Joel off the floor, hardly remembered the journey home but you remembered taking him to the doctors office, remembered him being gone for hours as they worked on him, remembered finding comfort in Ellie against your side and Tommy hand on your arm. 

You didn’t remember anything the doctor said past the assurance that Joel was alive and stable, didn’t remember Tommy’s arms around you, keeping you upright, barely recalled Ellie pressing against you and crying with you.

It wasn’t until Joel was awake that the three of you were allowed to visit, Ellie stepping in first, followed by you and then Tommy.

“Baby girls,” Joel groaned out and you went to pieces, Tommy’s grip on you was the only thing holding you up as Ellie choked back her own tears, moving to Joel’s side and pushing herself against him. 

“M’sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” Ellie choked out and you stayed by the door with Tommy, much as you wanted to bury yourself against Joel’s other side, Ellie needed this and so did Joel. 

“Nothin’ t’be sorry for.” Joel assured her, cupping the back of her head slowly and wincing as he kissed the top of her head. 

You listened as Ellie and Joel spoke softly to each other, each of their eyes filled with tears but there was so much relief on their faces as they finally reconnected, realising how close they’d been to losing everything, losing each other without resolving anything, Ellie realising she had nearly been condemned to a life of what if’s and all encompassing grief. You watched the pair with your own watery eyes and shaky smile, leaning against Tommy’s chest as the man kept a steady arm around you, his own eyes stinging with tears. 

“C’mere you.” Joel finally said, looking over at you and you let out a small sob, feeling like you would have been frozen to place if not for Tommy guiding you over to the bed. 

You practically collapsed into Joel’s chest, letting yourself sob into the man as he held you close to him, not caring about his burning sides as he smiled up at Tommy, appreciation clear on his face for looking after the two of you whilst he was down.

You could still see the image of him lying on the floor, bloody and beaten. Even in the hospital bed he looked weak but he looked like Joel. In that cabin he had looked unrecognisable. It turned your stomach sick, you never wanted to see Joel like that again.

For not the first time that night you felt a twisted satisfaction as you remember sinking the knife into Abby’s neck, not even sparing her another look as she fell to the floor as you took the rest of her group out alongside Ellie.

Joel kept whispering words of reassurance as you and Ellie burrowed into him, not a dry eye in the room. You could feel Joel’s heartbeat against your ear, the steady thumping assuring you he was alive, you were home, Joel and Ellie had made up and everyone was safe.

“Love you dad.” You interrupted his steady stream of assurance, the whispered words choked out between soft sobs but Joel’s heart ached nonetheless.

“I love you two, both of you, so damn much.” He promised, kissing both of your heads again and you let out a shaky breath, everything was going to be ok.

“Love you.” Ellie mumbled and you laughed, the sound mixing with a sob but you couldn’t help it, Ellie had finally realised what you had known all along, the world was too dangerous, too unpredictable to be anything but honest with your feelings.

For Ellie’s sake, Joel didn’t make a fuss over the words but inside his heart exploded. He had never needed Ellie to say those words to him, he’d always known, even in the time she was mad at him, he’d known that deep down, under all of the anger and confusion Ellie loved him.

He was just glad he’d lived long enough to hear the words from both of his girls.

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[writeriguess]

hi.. if you arent busy can you please do a small writing of how husband katsuki would react to reader going into labor? thank you :)

Fireworks and Heartbeats

The first contraction hits like a gunshot at dawn. You wince, gripping the edge of the couch, your breath catching in your throat. The TV hums in the background, some mindless show playing, but the moment your body seizes up, everything else fades into static.

Katsuki, slouched beside you with one arm thrown lazily over the back of the couch, is mid-chew on a protein bar when he notices. His red eyes narrow instantly, scanning your face with that sharp, battle-honed instinct of his.

"The hell was that?" His voice is rough, edged with suspicion.

You exhale shakily. "I think… that was a contraction."

There's a second of silence. A dangerous, eerily calm second where his entire body goes completely still. Then—

"SHIT."

Bakugo launches off the couch so fast the cushions nearly flip. His protein bar goes flying, forgotten as he rounds on you like a man ready to go to war.

"How bad is it? Can you stand? We gotta—fuck, wait, where's the bag? Where’s the—WHERE'S MY PHONE?"

You can't help but laugh, even as another contraction rolls through you, making you groan. "Babe. Breathe."

"I'm breathing!" he snaps, though his movements are anything but calm. He's darting from one end of the living room to the other, yanking open drawers, patting his pockets, looking everywhere except for the one place his phone actually is—on the damn coffee table.

You watch as he turns over a couch cushion in sheer desperation. "Katsuki—"

"WHERE THE FUCK DID I PUT IT?!"

You sigh and pick up his phone with an exaggerated wave. "Here."

He whips around, eyes locking on the device like it's an enemy. He snatches it from your hand and immediately starts dialing. "I'm callin’ the hospital! We gotta—SHIT, the bag! Where’s the fucking bag?!"

"It’s by the door," you say, amused despite the growing pain.

He’s already bolting toward it. "RIGHT, right, I knew that!" He slings the bag over his shoulder like it weighs nothing. "Okay, okay, let’s go! Get your ass up—wait, do you need me to carry you?"

You glare at him. "I can walk, Katsuki."

"Not if it makes it worse, dumbass!" He’s already reaching for you, practically vibrating with tension.

"I'm fine," you insist, though the next contraction makes you grip his wrist for support. His free hand immediately settles on your back, warm and steady, his fingers twitching as if he’s fighting the urge to just scoop you up and bulldoze through walls to the hospital.

His voice lowers, rough but softer now. "I gotcha. Just lean on me, alright?"

You nod, letting him guide you toward the door. He’s mumbling under his breath, every other word a curse, but beneath all that brashness, his grip on you is careful, precise. His entire world has narrowed down to getting you to the hospital, to making sure you’re safe.

By the time he’s got you in the car, he’s gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered. The moment your breath hitches in pain, he snarls, "Fucking MOVE!" at a car that’s barely in his way.

"Katsuki, don’t get arrested before we even get there."

"If these extras don’t move their asses, I swear—"

"Katsuki!"

He growls, muscles tight with frustration, but keeps driving, one hand gripping the wheel while the other reaches over, fingers squeezing yours tightly. He doesn’t let go, not even when your contractions get worse, not even when your nails dig into his skin.

"You hold on," he mutters, jaw clenched so tight it could crack. "Almost there, baby. Almost there."

And as frantic as he is, as loud and explosive as he always will be—his grip in yours stays firm, unwavering. Katsuki Bakugo doesn’t fear battle. But as you groan in pain beside him, he realizes there is one fight he can’t punch his way through.

He can only hold your hand, grit his teeth, and make damn sure you get to the finish line.

[dollfacefantasy]

LOCK AND KEY ♡

pairing: yakuza!ryomen sukuna x fem!reader x yakuza!satoru gojo

summary: you finally have a chance at a big break in your career, a story that would take you from a measly crime reporter to a real journalist. the only catch is it's about the two most dangerous men in the city. when they find out about it, surely nothing will go wrong...

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, non/dubcon, kidnapping (sort of), threesome, p in v, blowjobs, facefucking, biting, spitting, praise/degradation, mentions of violence + blood + murder + typical crime stuff

a/n: this is a belated birthday gift for my bestie @kaitkatme who i love so very much. i hope you like it <3 also thank you to @explorevenus @nexysworld and @fearcvlt for beta reading!! as always reblogs and comments are appreciated.

Your eyes fluttered open to stare at the ground below you. They found carpet you didn’t recognize. The spot directly beneath your face was soaked a darker shade by a pool of your blood. You could feel the source — a steady stream of crimson leaking from your nose. A dull ache throbbed through your skull as you tried to recall what led you to this point. Where were you? And why were you waking up here?

Lifting your head, you scanned the rest of your surroundings. Whoever was keeping you put you in a dark room doused in red lighting. Windows speckled the walls parallel to you while a large grand door took up the one opposite. Every surface appeared ominous, drenched in shadows. Obsidian carpet dusted the floor. You were thankful for that aspect since you’d been positioned on your knees. That foamy layer was the only thing sparing your joints from soreness right now.

Furniture was sparse throughout this place. A large sectional couch with thick seats sat in one corner while what looked to be a small kitchenette took up another. It seemed like a guest house; though, you didn’t see any makings of a bedroom. Perhaps it was located in the alcove you couldn’t see to your left.

Near the entrance stood a mirror. Through its reflective pane you were able to see your situation and the position of your limbs despite the stiffness in your neck.

You were bound at the wrists with restraints that tied to your ankles. They connected back to the wall behind you as well. That was how you managed to stay upright even while unconscious. Thankfully, all of your clothes had been kept on. Despite the bruising and blood on your face, you couldn’t see or feel any signs of other injuries.

Still, these factors didn’t answer any questions.

Your memories were returning to you, slowly and one at a time, but building a bigger picture nonetheless. This morning you’d woken up at the same time you always did. You went through the usual steps of your routine before walking to work. A man had catcalled you on your way. When you’d told him to fuck off, he called you a ‘stupid stuck-up bitch’ in return. You remembered fishing your phone out, jotting down a sentence in your notes app about doing a story on street harassment at some point in the future.

Earlier in the day, gray clouds had masked the sky as water drizzled down like half-hearted tears. When you arrived at the dreary office complex that constituted your workplace, you strolled right into the elevator and stood silently. Two men entered after you, crowding your smaller frame towards the back. They spoke as if you weren’t even there and carried on their conversation about potential solutions to the problem that was their wives not putting out enough since having babies number two and three.

Another note. A potential investigative report into marital rape.

When the doors in front of you had finally parted, you squeezed between the two sets of broad shoulders to freedom. You made your way through the array of desks ahead and found your own towards the back corner of the room. Right away, you slipped your phone into the drawer before booting up the computer. Those other stories could wait. The one you were working on today blew both out of the water.

You had clicked on the little folder in the top right corner of the screen. The one with no label. A slew of documents popped up across your screen. Faked financial forms, criminal records, suppressed victim statements, old news clippings. And your itinerary with one last interview lined up for tonight at 8 pm. 

The final nail in the coffins that you built for Satoru Gojo and Ryomen Sukuna.

It would be the last piece of evidence you needed on the two leaders of the worst crime families in this city. An exclusive account with a former member of the Gojo Clan who worked closely with Sukuna’s circle on their shared endeavors and was now turning on them both as he fled for his life? This would make your career.

No longer would this paper have you reporting on the lower rungs of the crime beat. With all the work you’d done for this, your editor would be forced to acknowledge your talent and dedication. You’d be given good stories that would help innocent people and make actual change. You wouldn’t have to interview burnt out cops or clueless onlookers about a car accident. With Satoru Gojo and Ryomen Sukuna’s collective downfall as a mark on your resume, you would do so much more.

Finally, you would be a real journalist.

The rest of the day had been pretty mundane if you remembered correctly. You’d spent most of your hours writing the beginning of your article and then prepping for the interview later.

The interview…

You’d been on your way to that when the memories stopped. The sky was already dark when you left the building. Golden streetlights glowed every twenty feet or so along your path. You remembered running your questions through your head as you walked, preparing for the possibility that you’d have to talk this guy back into sharing if he started getting cold feet.

Someone had called out to you though. It startled you. That you remembered. You didn’t see anyone else on the street, but that deep tone hailed you all the same. He hadn’t said your name. It’d just been something vague like lady or miss. Clearly not anyone who knew you.

But you looked in that direction all the same. Your eyes met a shadowy figure before pain radiated through your entire face.

Then everything went dark.

The most obvious conclusion to you now was that this had something to do with your scheduled interview. But you figured if that were the case, your body would already be floating through some river by now. Such was the fate of those who came too close to toppling the house of cards.

Something similar happened to the last guy who tried to expose the Yakuza syndicates. It was a few years ago, but you didn’t forget. How could you? He’d sat at the desk closest to your left. You could still remember his pudgy face and thick glasses.

Even worse, you could still remember the photos of him strung up in that slaughter house.

Well… at least you weren’t strung up yet. Bound and bruised maybe, but that didn’t mean certain death. After all, this was a pretty nice room to keep someone in for the sole purpose of execution.

The thoughts swirling through your head soon came to an end as you heard muffled voices outside the room. They started out barely noticeable but grew louder as seconds ticked on. You had just enough time to mentally brace yourself before that large door opened.

Two men entered the room. Your eyelids were still a bit heavy, but you didn’t need 20/20 vision to recognize them.

Standing next to each other, the pair looked like polar opposites. Both were muscular, but one was lean and the other bulky. Both wore designer t-shirts, but the lean one sported black while the bulky one chose white. Both of them looked at you like an apex predator, but the one in black with piercing blue eyes and the other in white with smoldering red.

Satoru Gojo & Ryomen Sukuna.

Your heart stopped beating in your chest. As if lifted by mere survival instinct, your eyes no longer gave you trouble. You could see in clear view as the two men approached you. An unnerving smile claimed Satoru’s face. The arrogance was there on Sukuna as well, just a much more muted version of it.

“Good. She’s awake now,” you heard Sukuna’s deep voice rumble. “She’s been passed out for a few hours.”

“I bet. Poor thing’s probably tired. Looks like your guys roughed her up a bit,” Satoru said, his lips turning into an exaggerated frown.

Your eyes flitted between the two of them. They didn’t have any weapons that you could see. Maybe you’d be spared for a little while longer.

“What… what’s going on?” you asked, struck by how raspy your own voice sounded.

The two of them looked at you, taking in your haggard appearance along with the will to survive you still possessed.

Satoru grinned impossibly wider.

“Awww, that’s how you know she’s a good little reporter. Already asking questions,” he teased.

His hand stretched out towards you as if he wanted to pat you on the head like you were a prized pup. Instead, you wrenched away like a wounded animal. You tried to escape his touch with such force that you nearly toppled over. He simply laughed at your close call, but another strong grip on your shoulder spared you from faceplanting.

Nausea rolled through you at the sudden touch. Never in your life had you wanted to crawl out of your own skin so badly. Sukuna’s palm was warm but rough. Something someone might mistake for human if they didn’t know the kind of man it belonged to. You looked up at him through your lashes. Unlike Satoru, he didn’t wear a teasing smirk or hold any amusement in his eyes.

“Let go of me,” you whimpered. You hated how weak your voice sounded. It came out scared and desperate, which to be fair, you were both. You just didn’t want it to be so obvious. But something about Sukuna stripped you bare, shattered your usual methods of concealment.

“Quiet,” he said. 

To your surprise, his fingers released your bicep, giving you a second of peace. But that was only so they could grab your jaw instead. The calloused tips dug into your cheeks. There was no pulling away now.

Satoru clicked his tongue. “You’re gonna learn real quick that you wanna be nice to me, sweetheart. I’m much more friendly than him.”

While held still, Satoru fished a white cloth from his pocket. He brought it to your face, wiping the tacky blood off your nose and lips before tossing it onto a nearby table.

Despite his minor kindness, you chose to ignore all that his statement implied. In your mind, both of them were equally horrible, and you didn’t want to get to know them well enough to discern which of the two was slightly less evil.

At work, you were forced to look at pictures of them constantly. Their cocky grins and intense stares filled the paper. You had to flip through page after page of stories about their scandalous escapades or legal dramas to get to your pieces at the back. 

You loathed it. 

Everyone in this city knew they were dirty. All of you knew that they made their money from the blood of others, that they stayed in power by shooting down any competition. But somehow everyone came to an agreement that you would all pretend they were just typical elite socialites. That their money came from their established bloodlines and that they kept it up through skillful investments.

You’d been so close to unraveling the lies. But it didn’t matter anymore. Not right now anyways. All you could do in this moment was survive. And to do that, you decided to focus on the more serious member of the duo. You figured he would give a better chance at getting out of here. Or at least a way of reaching a destination without so much drawn out anticipation.

“Where am I?” you asked.

Another brief moment of silence went by. Your question remained unanswered.

“Why are you keeping me here?” you tried.

“You really don’t know?” Sukuna said. The words sounded rough and scratchy, but his cadence was so smooth it sickened you. “You’re a clever girl. I’m sure you have some idea.”

You shook your head.

With your face held in place by Sukuna’s strong hand, Satoru reached out and actually managed to sweep his palm over your head. And not just once. He took advantage of your predicament and pet you several times, smiling at the grimace that overtook your features.

“Come on. Don’t insult us. We know you’re smarter than that,” he teased. “You’d have to be to find out all that you did.”

“How did you-” you started to ask. You’d been so careful. You secured every connection, terminated every unnecessary history of contact, kept all your information as private as possible. They couldn’t have traced you, so how did they know?

“It doesn’t matter how,” Satoru said.

“I was careful! I-”

“You were so careful, you didn’t think that it was possible we might have a few of your coworkers on our payrolls?” Sukuna interjected.

Fury, anguish, and humiliation rushed through you all at once because, no, you hadn’t considered that. You’d never entertained the idea that any of the people you worked with would sell you out. No part of you regarded any of them as paragons of journalism, but some optimistic shred of your psyche had refused to even contemplate that idea.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Satoru said, taking clear enjoyment from your faith in the world being shattered.”Your boss couldn’t have been more willing to give you up. He let us know all about your little story a few weeks ago.”

That reveal stung even worse. The past few weeks, all the nights you stayed late, all the hours you spent poring over documents and trying to find people willing to talk, all for nothing. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if that interview you’d been heading to had been set up under the supervision of one of them.

You tried to stifle any further dismay, not wanting to give them any more satisfaction. You should’ve known asking how was futile. You had to change your angle, focus on the relevant information. They had discovered your intentions to go after them. Now you just had to look for a way to survive.

Internally, you tried to contemplate your current options. Really only two came to mind. Comply or deny. Neither sounded appealing, but you decided on the one you believed would speed things along.

“So what? Why am I even here? You killed my story already. There’s nothing else I can do,” you said. You fought with your vocal chords to keep your words even, to appear some kind of tough.

“Do you think we really believe you’ll just let this go?” Sukuna asked in return.

“We know you won’t accept a pay off. You’re way too honest for that. And a few vague threats won’t do the trick either,” Satoru said, squatting down to be eye level with you. “But-”

“Why haven’t you just killed me then?” you asked, cutting Satoru off. Your eyes stayed angled at Sukuna.

For the first time, your defiance seemingly got under his skin. It cracked the cocky exterior he’d so carefully crafted with each word he spoke. That sparkle in his eyes dulled a little bit. 

Before you could really register it, his hand darted for your face again. He wormed his long fingers underneath the thickness of Sukuna’s palm, flexing off the other hand. With a small jerk, you were looking at him again.

“What’d I say about being nice?” he asked. The words weren’t overtly angry. Impatient, low and tense sounding, but not angry. Not yet.

You didn’t dignify the question with a verbal response. Without even breaking your harsh glare towards him, you spit. Your saliva flew across the small gap between your faces and struck his cheek. The clear glob landed right below his eye. You almost flinched at the contact, so certain a volatile reaction from him would follow. But it didn’t. Instead, that sparkle flickered again. Amusement glowed at the center of his irises once more.

With a quiet chuckle, he wiped your spit from his cheek. He then brought those same saliva-coated fingers to his mouth and popped them inside, cleaning them of your fluids. 

Your face twisted into a grimace. You couldn’t recall seeing something more repulsive in your entire life. That made him laugh.

“You’re disgusting,” you said.

“And you’re so cute,” he teased, pulling you back in his direction.

On his other side, Sukuna tilted your chin upwards. He didn’t interject to help you, didn’t bother pulling Satoru back. He just watched as the other man leaned forward, brushing his nose along the shell of your ear before nipping at the lobe.

Your eyes squeezed shut, and you tried to pull away. Satoru’s tongue slid from between his lips to trace a path down your neck. He kissed along the thumping artery in your neck, his lips pressing against your skin in time with the strong pulse.

“We have other uses for you,” Sukuna answered your original question, his grip on your neck still firm. “You’re much more valuable to us alive than dead.”

Uses. The word sent a chill down your spine.

“I’d never do anything to help the two of you,” you said.

He chuckled, deep and raspy, not at all concerned with your protest. “That’s not your decision, little one.”

A rush of involuntary heat flooded your body following the term of endearment. You refused to acknowledge it. Your body was just confused by the objectively pleasant touches. 

His hand slipped around to the back of your neck as he crouched to be level with you too. He gave the sensitive flesh there a squeeze. You had limited mobility with your limbs bound, but you still tried squirming away from Satoru’s wandering mouth.

Upon feeling you recoil, Sukuna’s hold tightened further, like an owner’s grasp on the scruff of their puppy’s neck.

“Just tell me what you want. You don’t have to torture me first,” you whimpered.

“Oh c’mon, princess. Does this really feel like torture?” Satoru cooed with a final kiss to your cheek. He pulled back to look into your eyes. Despite the softness in his voice, he still looked so fucking smug. You hated it.

“What do you want from me?” you tried again. 

While you could put up a good fight, you found your resistance breaking down pretty quickly under the constant touching. Half of you trembled with visceral hatred, pure revulsion at the feeling of their skin on your body. But the other half, the one you wouldn’t admit to if you could help it, felt something closer to frustration welling up because they were teasing. They weren’t giving you any real satisfaction.

Everything was too much, and you just wanted away from them. The contradictory mix of emotions was making your head pound and your chest ache. You closed your eyes tight again, hoping that maybe if you believed it enough, this would turn out to be some sick nightmare, and you’d wake up alone in your own bed.

“All we need from you is your cooperation. Be a good girl and listen,” Sukuna said. He gave the nape of your neck another squeeze, his nails digging into the delicate skin.

Your eyes opened again, connecting with his red ones. They gleamed so bright it looked as though actual rubies had been embedded into his sockets. 

At the same time, Satoru ducked in again to lay some more kisses upon your throat. His hands settled on your waist, smoothing up and down your soft curves. Every time they lowered, you could feel them pushing the line, testing how far they could delve beneath the hem of your shirt before you gave a severe reaction.

“You know this feels good,” Satoru murmured between kisses.

“No it doesn’t,” you said.

He chuckled at that, not letting up in the slightest. With a soft, disapproving click of his tongue, he tutted at you. “You’re lying. You can say you don’t like it all you want, but your body betrays you. Your skin is getting all warm, you’re squirming, and I bet… if I were to feel right here, you’d be all nice and wet for me,” he whispered as his right set of fingers slid between your legs, pressing on the seam of your slacks.

You jolted in surprise. A small squeal bursted from your lips at the sudden pressure there. You tried clenching your legs shut without losing balance, but it didn’t matter. His lithe digits continued sliding back and forth unobstructed.

Against your will, you whimpered. You couldn’t help it. He was stroking you just right, and as much as you hated it, it felt fucking good. His fingertips coasted over your pulsing clit and massaged your entrance where you already knew, true to his inference, you were starting to drip.

Drawing your attention back to him, Sukuna’s other hand came up to cup your jaw. His thumb landed on the seam of your lips before nudging its way in.

“Try to bite, and we’ll both lose a finger,” he warned.

You didn’t even entertain the possibility that he could be bluffing. If you caused the slightest bit of pain to his thumb, you were certain he’d inflict ten times as much onto you. So you did nothing. You felt the warm thickness of it on your tongue, felt the calloused pad against your soft muscle.

He pulled it back and forth a bit, in and out, testing you. In all honesty, you didn’t find yourself wanting to bite. Rather, your lips closed around his thumb with more purpose, actively accepting the digit instead of loosely allowing it.

“There you go,” he praised. “You already know what to do.”

Nausea bubbled up in the back of your throat again, but it was short lived, overpowered by the muted bliss Satoru was stroking into you down below. You let your eyes droop closed and even laved your tongue on his digit. 

It was slowly setting in that you weren’t going to get out of this. You figured the next best thing would probably be playing nice until another opportunity for escape arose.

Seconds later, you felt warm breath puffing against the side of your throat unoccupied by Satoru’s mouth. Little chills broke out over your skin. His other hand fell from the back of your neck, down your spine to the small of your back. He pulled you a little closer to the both of them. As close as he could while you were still restrained.

“You don’t have to admit you like it, little one. Just stop fighting. Let it happen.”

With that, he moved in on your neck too. He was rougher than Satoru. His teeth scraped over your sensitive flesh before his mouth latched onto a specific patch of skin. He bit it. Not just a little tantalizing nip. An actual bite. You gasped, tilting your head back and inadvertently giving them more access.

The bite on your neck wasn’t hard enough to draw blood, but it was sure to leave a mark. He started with just that one before continuing with a series of more down towards your shoulder.

Despite this, Satoru remained relatively gentle. He worked in the opposite direction, heading up towards your lips. His eyes rose to be level with yours. That same cocky attitude glimmered within.

“Still think I’m disgusting?” he asked.

“Repulsive even,” you replied.

“Let’s see if I can get you to think of some other big words to describe me,” he said, ducking in to connect his mouth with yours.

At first, your body tensed. You stiffened up under his touch. But in a matter of moments, you slowly began to kiss back. Your lips tentatively mimicked his movements before you found yourself settling into a rhythm. He was still vile, but his kisses maybe weren’t so bad…

With Satoru occupying most of your attention, you didn’t notice Sukuna’s hands falling away or his mouth receding from your marked-up neck. Your eyes were shut while making out, so you also didn’t see him stand up. You didn’t catch him undoing his fly and dropping his pants either.

The first indication of his changed position you got was the fat leaky tip of his cock nudging your cheek.

Reluctantly, you disconnected from Satoru’s mouth, turning your head to eye the interruption. As it came into your view, you had to make a conscious effort not to let your brows raise to the ceiling. In all your life, you’d never seen a guy so big. Not only was his shaft long, but it was so fucking thick. Your mind wasn’t even concerned with who it belonged to right now. You could only watch in awe as his fist slid up and down, stroking it with a tight grip.

Satoru didn’t seem as phased as you. He grabbed the other man’s cock without hesitation, eliciting a sharp hiss from him.

You watched as he gave it a couple strokes of his own while rising to his feet. It was only a few before Sukuna pried his hand away with a strong grip on his wrist.

“Watch it,” he warned, similar to the tone he used with you.

“Cool it, big guy. You’re just as bad as her. Acting like you don’t like something that obviously feels good,” he teased.

You were sure if anyone else had said that, they wouldn’t get the chance to speak like that again. But Sukuna only scowled at him before reaching for your head. He pulled you in closer, looking down at your wide eyes as his dick slid across the side of your face. 

He rubbed it across one of your cheeks, then the other. His eyes took in every little reaction you had. The small crinkles of discomfort, the shuddery breaths of desire. He took his time, toying and teasing before he actually brought it before your lips, so close that a few beads of precum smeared on your bottom lip.

“Wha- what do you want me to do?” you said. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t know. It was that you didn’t think you could.

For the first time, he laughed. And it wasn’t like Satoru’s. Nothing about the sound was lighthearted or fun. It was a deep, sadistic rumble. A sound that was the final many heard before they met their end.

“What does it look like I want you to do? Open that pretty mouth and suck it,” he said. The hand on the back of your head moved you in closer, slipping the tip just past your lips. “Same rules as before: you try biting, and I’ll make the slaughterhouse seem like a fantasy.”

You hadn’t planned on resisting anyways, but after hearing that, all the fight seeped out of your body. At first, you didn’t put much effort in either. You just kind of sat there on your haunches, letting him do as he pleased.

He pushed his hips forward. His cock slid into your mouth inch by inch. It was only a second or two before you felt his head starting to nudge the back of your throat. The urge to gag pricked at you, but you tried your hardest to suppress it.

You squeezed your eyes shut while keeping your jaw loose and your fists clenched. He rocked in and out of the warm embrace your throat provided.

Even with your eyes closed, you still sensed Satoru’s presence. His spindly fingers caressed the top of your head and trailed along your temple. A touch probably intended to be soothing, but one that came across to you as teasing.

Following a few more shallow thrusts, you felt a tug at the back of your head. It was too jerky to be Satoru. Your eyes opened to find those same red eyes staring down at you again, a lecherous grin spread across Sukuna’s mouth.

“Trying to make me do all the work?” he said. “You’re still as a corpse down there. If I wanted to fuck one of those, I would’ve killed you.”

You tried mumbling out a sorry, but around the dick in your mouth, the word was incoherent. He didn’t need to give further direction. You began lightly bobbing your head. The movements started off tentative, as if you were still figuring out how to move at all, but slowly, you found your rhythm.

Your eyes closed again, but this time not as tight. Like his thumb before, his cock served as a distraction. You didn’t have to think right now. Didn’t have to worry about how you would get out of this. Didn’t have to ruminate over how you would day get revenge. All you had to do was work on taking his dick farther and farther down your throat with each push of your head.

“Atta girl…” he mumbled from above.

A slow exhale blew from your nostrils. His relaxed tone eased your nerves as well. The pace at which you sucked became more languid. Your head swooped closer to his pelvis more fluidly. Saliva oozed from your mouth, thoroughly coating his length and your chin.

In the midst of losing yourself to the task at hand, a whisper broke through your bubble.

“Gonna untie you now, princess, so we can both play with you.” Satoru’s breath fanned against your ear as he spoke. “You better behave. I won’t mind chasing you down, but I don’t think it’ll be as fun for you,” he said as his fingers came around back to free your arms from their bindings.

The ties fell loose and dropped to the floor. Instantly, you brought your wrists to your chests, massaging the skin that felt raw from the rough material of the restraints. You swiveled them to get the blood flowing normal again all while still flicking your tongue against the ridge of Sukuna’s tip.

You heard him choke out a groan before pulling you off, a ragged breath spilling from his lungs. At the same time, you sucked air in. You took in all that you could while your airway wasn’t obstructed.

“Fuck… that’s a good girl,” he praised. You again ignored the heat that flashed through your lower abdomen.

Your eyes opened again, your lids feeling a little weighted this time around. They both came into your view. Sukuna’s cock hung between you and him, shining with your saliva and dripping pearly precum from the head. On the other side, Satoru also had his dick out now. He stroked it in your direction. It was also impressive in size, long and thick enough to make your mouth water, but after seeing the monster between Sukuna’s thighs, you didn’t feel apprehensive.

“Cute… she already looks a little cockdrunk, and she’s only had you,” he said.

Less patient than his counterpart, Satoru yanked your head closer and sheathed himself entirely inside your mouth in one go. You actually gagged this time around, globs of your spit leaking from your mouth as your eyes watered. Your hands flew up to his thighs in an attempt to brace yourself, but he kept you as close as possible, your nose nestled against the swath of coarse white hair.

You could hear them both laugh a bit and say something back and forth to one another, though specifics evaded your ears. Sweet humiliation floods your veins at the sounds. Satoru keeps you in place, not moving while throbbing in your mouth.

Although Sukuna had explicitly said no biting, he never said anything about your nails. You dug them into the meat of Satoru’s thighs as hard as you could, until the pale skin turned pink with little crescent markings.

Instead of hissing in pain and ripping you off of him, Satoru moaned. His hips bucked forward, lodging his shaft so deep in your throat you actually thought you were at risk of choking and dying. Your vision faded and noises grew distant.

Just as you thought you were about to lose consciousness, he tugged you backwards. Not all the way off his dick, far enough that you were still drooling on the tip as oxygen came back to you. The clear fluid oozed from between your lips like a leaky faucet.

“There we go. That’s better,” he hummed before easing your mouth on him again.

You took some initiative, hoping that might spare you from another close call with blacking out. Your tongue slithered over his veins as you’d done for Sukuna. The other man in question who was reaching out to stroke your head.

“Don’t forget about me,” he teased, nudging his hips at you a bit.

Your hand came up without thinking. You wrapped your fingers around his thicker shaft and began stroking it at a rhythm a bit slower than the one your mouth moved at. It seemed to satisfy him. He didn’t say anything else, nor did he make a move to handle you.

Satoru did however.

Your mouth’s smooth pace only staved off his enthusiasm for so long. Before you knew it, each of those large hands came to rest on either side of your head. They held you in place, held you still so he could take over the motions.

He wasn’t too rough at first, gentle as someone could be while fucking your face. His thrusts remained shallow and even. You kept your focus on twisting your hand around Sukuna’s length. You couldn’t see what you were actually doing, but as large as he was, there wasn’t really a chance of losing him.

As the pleasure started to build for Satoru, he got a little faster, a tad overeager. He wasn’t ramming his dick down your throat, but he was starting to move faster. You could barely keep up with it. It was intoxicating in a way; left you feeling lightheaded and spun out of order.

We have other uses for you. Sukuna’s earlier statement echoed through your mind again. They definitely were using you. Satoru rutted against your mouth as though it was a toy crafted just for him, and Sukuna watched the skilled swivel of your fingers like it would be eternal.

You lost track of time down on your knees.

You weren’t quite sure how long you’d been down there by the time Satoru was stepping back and letting his cock drop from between your lips. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like you were so eager to see what else they had in store for you.

Your eyes cracked open again. You hadn’t realized they’d even shut. The first thing in your line of sight was Satoru’s shaft, still hard and flushed and soaked with your saliva. From there, your pupils rose, gazing upon the two grins above.

Satoru reached out to pet your head, and this time you didn’t pull away in the slightest. Instead, your head leaned into the tender touch, nuzzled at the palm providing you a sliver of comfort.

“That’s it. You’re coming around,” he cooed. “We just have to break you in a little.”

His voice actually sounded kind of nice when it wasn’t polluted by that arrogant lilt. It hit your ears all smooth and soft, like a steady stream of champagne poured into a glass.

Almost a polar opposite, Sukuna spoke from beside him.

“Get her up. Move over there,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the couches.

“You got it,” Satoru said in a sing-song tone.

He gave your head one more caress before ducking around back to untie your ankles. The restraints came apart quickly under his nimble fingers. After they slipped off, you felt the same relief flood your feet that you’d felt earlier in your hands.

He scooped you up off the ground, cradling you in his arms like a bride. Despite being leaner than Sukuna, he didn’t lack any strength. He moved with the same fluidity that he’d entered the room with.

Under normal circumstances, you would have fought him every step of the way. Each step would have seen you kicking and squirming, trying to get him to drop you just so you could scramble to freedom. But in all honesty, you were in no condition to scramble. Being on your knees so long had left them feeling like jello. You doubted you could successfully make the short trip to the couch let alone bolt through an unfamiliar house in an unfamiliar area.

Upon reaching the luxurious seats, Satoru sat down and put you in his lap, another move you would have protested if you didn’t feel so off balance right now. He held you to his chest, stroking down your neck and onto your shoulders. Sukuna sat one cushion over from the two of you.

Without saying anything, he took your legs into his lap. You just watched, unsure of his intentions. But all that came of the move was the soothing feeling of his thick fingers massaging your calves one at a time.

All you could do was blink. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but that wasn’t it. His digits dug into your muscle with obvious strength, but it wasn’t at all painful. If anything it felt nice, like an aid to your circulation after being bound for hours on end. You just couldn’t comprehend why he would want to do it.

Breaking you from your confusion, Satoru whispered in your ear, “Let’s get you out of this dirty thing.”

At first, you didn’t know what he meant. However, upon looking down, you realized the front of your shirt had become stained with both blood and saliva. It was in rough shape, much worse condition than when you’d put it on this morning for work.

You didn’t really try to stop him from pulling it off your body. It would be pointless. Instead, you remained motionless as he slid each of your arms from the sleeves and guided it off your torso. The fabric’s absence sent a small shiver through you.

He brought the shirt up, using it as a makeshift cloth to cleanse your face of any remaining spit from your jaw.

“So pretty even when you’re all messy,” he praised quietly, dropping the garment to the floor beside the couch.

You assumed your bra would be the next thing to go, but Satoru’s fingers targeted the button on your slacks instead. He popped the silver out of place and slid the zipper down before shimmying you out of them. Again, with your current lack of strength in your legs, the process went easy, like removing clothes from a doll.

“You’re being so good right now. Keep it up, and you’re really gonna like it here,” Sukuna said while continuing his slow massage on your legs.

For a split second, that sentence triggered your journalistic instincts that you thought Satoru’s cock had knocked out of your head. You’re gonna like it here. So they were planning to keep you around. This wouldn’t be a one thing. They weren’t sending you out with a bang. It was as Satoru had said. They were breaking you in.

You didn’t really understand why. The trouble of keeping you prisoner didn’t seem worth the spoils they gained from it. At least in your mind.

Reading the confusion written all over your face, Sukuna’s palms slid up to your thighs. He tugged you down a little bit. You shifted from Satoru’s lap to the cool material of the couch, leaving only your head on his thigh.

The large hands spread your legs apart. Another shudder coursed through your body. You felt completely vulnerable in this position, like a small puppy caught between two wolves, your soft belly left exposed for their sharp claws and teeth.

Though nothing so ghastly happened. Sukuna’s fingertips continued to ghost over your inner thighs and hips, the touch feather-light.

“You have something to say?” he said.

But you shook your head.

“You do,” he continued. “Come on. I won’t bite. Not again anyway.”

“I just… so you’re really not gonna kill me?” you said, your voice wary.

“We already told you we weren’t,” Satoru chided from above, his hand stroking your cheek.

“But why? What’s the point? Why would you keep a loose end?” you asked. You knew you should probably shut up. Why argue against your own survival? But the innate curiosity inside of you craved an answer.

“You won’t be a loose end,” Sukuna said. “You’ll be under lock and key here. There won’t be any risk of you getting loose.”

His hands began to push your thighs up against your sides. Heat flooded your cheeks. The position left you totally exposed in the most compromising way. You wanted to ask why; although, you had a hunch, but you figured they may begin to grow annoyed with your questions.

He could tell you weren’t satisfied.

“You may not understand why, but killing you would be such a waste. You’re smart, calculating, and you’re not bad to look at,” he said. 

One of his thumbs began to graze the center of your panties, eliciting a gasp from you. Up and down, the pad of his digit traced from your slit up to your clit.

“You’ll be nice to have around, a good little stress reliever. And when you’ve proven yourself enough, you’ll be useful to the business as well,” he went on, completely matter-of-fact.

“I don’t want to-” you started to whimper. But he cut you off with a swat between your legs.

“What did I tell you? It’s not up to you. Would you rather end up like the last guy?”

You shook your head again.

“Good. So don’t worry about that for now. Keep being a good girl, and we’ll talk about it more later,” he said.

His fingers hooked around your panties, beginning to tug them down your legs. You squirmed in response; both the cool air hitting your most sensitive spot and the idea of him seeing all of you like this making you anxious. Your thighs tried to close on instinct, but he blocked that and kept you open to his eyes.

“Ah-ah. Behave,” he tutted.

He pulled your panties the rest of the way off without incident. His eyes trained on your now revealed pussy like it was prey.

“You really are pretty,” he said. “I’ll have to get a taste later.”

Later. A part of you was almost disappointed. But before you had time to register that disappointment, his fingers swiped through your folds.

You gasped softly. His digits caressed over the slick skin with an exploratory touch, gauging how wet you were.

At the same time, Satoru’s fingers slid beneath your bra straps. The smooth pads of his finger tips also ventured South as they coasted towards your breasts. He squeezed them under the material of the cups. His thumb and index finger toyed with your nipple for a second before undoing the clasp in front so it could end up pooled with your shirt on the floor.

“You’re gonna take both of us,” Sukuna said as his fingers glided across your entrance.

“At the same time?” you squeaked.

“Not today,” Satoru teased. He leaned forward, smiling upside down at you.

“We don’t wanna ruin you right away,” Sukuna added.

You wondered what exactly not ruining you would entail, but you didn’t have to wait long. Seconds later those thick fingers receded from your cunt and tapped your hip.

“On all fours. Facing me.”

You followed the order as though you were being timed, flipping over and swiveling around. Satoru rewarded your new position with a firm smack to your ass. You bit your lip in shame. Neither of them needed to hear the embarrassing sound that wanted out of your mouth.

The sound of ruffling clothes came from behind you. Probably Satoru removing his shirt. You didn’t make an effort to find out for certain. It was only background noise to the man in front of you.

He held your jaw in the palm of his hand. With a bit more pressure, you were sure he could crush the bones there. But he didn’t. He just kept you still, watching every little reaction on your face.

You felt Satoru line up behind you. It was obvious when he started to push in. Your brows furrowed. Your lips rounded out into a little ‘o.’ Even though his girth hadn’t made you gawk, it still stretched you a little as he worked himself all the way inside.

A small squeak forced itself from between your lips as he bottomed out and his silky tip bumped your cervix.

“Good girl,” Sukuna purred from in front of you. “Just keep holding still.”

The deep timbre of his voice had your insides fluttering. Your walls massaged Satoru’s shaft with every little contraction.

He groaned from behind you. “Fuck… she’s tight,” he sighed as he began to rock his hips.

You moaned, the motion of him unsheathing himself from you almost as nice as when he filled you up completely. He started off at a slow pace, back and forth in a nice steady rhythm, striking deep with every thrust. Your breaths grew shaky, and your fingers clutched the cushion beneath you.

It was only a matter of moments before he started to speed up. He wasn’t jackhammering yet, but he was on the road there. His pelvis slapped against your ass in quick succession, the sound beginning to echo in the dark room. You bit your lip while letting yourself adjust. If not for Sukuna’s palm below your chin, you had no doubt your head would be hanging by now.

He just continued looking down at you, scarlet eyes baring into your very soul, making absolutely sure you got no break.

“You’re taking it so well, letting him get you all warmed up for me,” he praised.

Your body shuddered. You could only imagine what Sukuna would feel like. Thicker than Satoru but just as long. Would he handle you like this? Would he go harder or slower? Would he cum quick or last until you were begging for mercy. You supposed it wasn’t really worth thinking about. You’d find out once Satoru finished, and given how often he was moaning back there, you had a hunch that would be sooner rather than later.

You kind of wished you could see his face — how that pretty pale skin flushed with desire, how those dark pupils dilated within the eerie blue irises. After how he’d humiliated you, you wanted to see the proof of his desperation as well. But the sounds would have to suffice. Them and his increasingly tight grasp on your hips.

His arms vibrated with the strength it took to hold on, to not cum too soon. He clearly wanted to savor you a bit more before relinquishing you to the other man’s hands. Your back arched like a cat’s as his strokes brought you more and more pleasure with every blow.

The change in your posture prompted him to swivel his hips, to find a new angle that could brush against something else. He found what he sought in no time at all. Your toes curled and your eyes rolled back as he slammed against that sweet spot within you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimpered before you could stop yourself.

An annoying, breathy chuckle came from behind. “Right there, huh? That’s where you like it?”

Reluctantly, you nodded. To your surprise, he didn’t say anything else to mock you. He just kept drilling into you like his life depended on it.

The both of you started to pant. Your arms wobbled underneath you, barely able to support yourself upright. You knew you were fast approaching your own release alongside Satoru.

Sukuna released your jaw, and that was when you let yourself collapse. Your arms buckled, and your cheek squished against the couch. Satoru held you in place there, pounding into you even harder than he had been before.

You came first. It crashed over you in a sudden wave. You choked out a whine, your body tensing up under him as the bliss rolled through you. And he just kept going.

He had better stamina than you’d expected. You whimpered and squirmed beneath him, hoping he’d hit his high soon and let you get some relief. But he continued to hammer into you without hesitation.

Only when he’d battered you firmly into the depths of overstimulation did he finally let himself go. He slammed all the way in and shot rope after rope of sticky, hot release into you. It was a good thing you were on the pill. Not that they had bothered to ask. But really, why would they? You doubted they would be concerned about any potential problem that arose from this. They were in the business of making things — people — go away.

With a sigh, Satoru eased himself out of you. He gave you a pat on the hip before sinking back into the couch and pushing his now damp white hair out of his face.

You didn’t get the same chance at relaxation.

Before you could even roll onto your side, Sukuna had his fingers around your wrist. With a tug, he guided you into his lap. He’d sat down since letting you go. He’d also taken his shirt off, allowing you a clear look at his sculpted figure. Your hazy eyes raked along the muscles covered in scars and tattoos.

He laughed quietly at your obvious interest. His large hands took each of your thighs and spread them over his lap so that you were straddling him. It was nice in a way, to be maneuvered so gently. To be positioned like a doll, not having to exert any effort yourself. In the past, you would’ve thought it’d be something you hate. But in this situation, it didn’t feel so bad.

His hand splayed across your chest next. It kept you upright and looking at him.

“You look so pretty. Like you can barely remember your own name,” he mocked, a grin slowly spreading on his face.

The hand that wasn’t propped on your chest slipped down between your legs to grab his cock. He angled it upwards, dragging the head over your folds a few times, nudging it against your skin without actually entering. You squirmed a little at the feeling, slightly in discomfort but mostly in wanting what was being offered.

“Calm down. You’re gonna get used to this in no time,” he said. Threat or promise, you couldn’t really tell.

You were completely soaked between your thighs. The combination of your own arousal mixed with Satoru’s cum leaking out of you left a mess, but it had you slick enough that he slipped inside without issue.

Your eyes widened. It wasn’t just his size or the stretch but also the overstimulation that had your nails digging into his bicep. Strangled whines erupted from you as a weird, sweet sting settled in your center. He hushed you, the hand from your waist running up and down your back while he pushed his hips up.

“Shhh shh shhh, you’re a good girl, remember? You’ll get used to it,” he said, a sinister smirk across his face.

You squeezed your eyes shut, nearly doubling over from that tone alone. The physical sensation truly wasn’t that bad. Not as bad as you expected anyways. With a few deep breaths, you found yourself more comfortable. He was doing all of the work. It was just that fact that this was happening at all that knocked the wind out of you.

He continued to slide you all the way down on his dick. Once you were settled against his lap, ass flush against his thighs, he let you sit there for a minute. You stayed motionless on top of him, just taking in the raw feeling of him tucked inside you.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked. You looked up at him, at that fucking smile. “Think you can ride it for me?” he said.

You knew he was mocking, and you wanted to say yes, just out of spite. You wanted to push yourself up and bounce on his dick till he was moaning for you just like Satoru had been. But the fact that you could barely find the energy to get any response out told you that wasn’t a realistic possibility. So you shook your head no.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. He tugged you close to him. Your upper body landed against his chest with a small thud. “But that’s ok. You don’t have to do anything. Just let me take care of it.”

He grabbed your hips and began lifting them up and down on himself with ease. His hips also rocked up into you from below. And you just let it happen like he told you to.

Your eyes drooped close and your grip on his arm became weaker. He was much quieter than Satoru, barely making any noise at all compared to the other man’s near-constant moaning and groaning. But you were quieter this time around too. Maybe it was the lingering effect of Satoru. Maybe your adrenaline was wearing off. But despite the pleasure swirling in your lower half, you felt almost floaty. Your brain felt like it had melted down into a small puddle that was slowly leaking from your ears.

“You’re gonna be a perfect fit around here,” he rasped. The words almost sounded divine, whispered into your ear from the heavens. “You might act up a little at first, but I know how to handle a brat. And you’re already showing how good you can be.”

It got no response out of you. You were in no shape to argue or disagree.

That didn’t matter to him though. He slammed up into you harder, getting a sharp gasp from you.

“I’m gonna have fun getting you to crack,” he said.

At that, you whimpered. If this was how it felt, there was a good chance you’d have fun too.

He kept thrusting up into you, pumping his own cock into your slick hole where Satoru had already spilled himself. You couldn’t keep track of how long it took for him to reach the peak too. Everything was in a fog right now. You heard yourself moaning, felt him fucking into you, but everything was distant. It was possible you came again, but overstimulation gave you a constant high so you couldn’t really tell.

But before you knew it, his breaths became heavier. His chest puffed against you at a quicker rate. His balls smacked against your ass with more force. You turned your face against his chest. You knew the end was near but every sense you had was so overwhelmed you could barely stand it.

He came with a quiet groan. The most noise he’d made the entire time. He fucked the warm fluid into you in the same way Satoru had. Maybe they’d shared someone before.

For a few minutes after finishing, he just sat there basking in the afterglow with you melted on top of him.

But then you felt a cool hand on your back. One that didn’t belong to Sukuna. Your eyes opened to find Satoru next to the both of you.

“Hey, princess. You ready for a nap?” he teased.

You whined and went to shove his face away even though, in truth, the answer was undoubtedly yes.

He just laughed, catching your hand and pulling your arm around his shoulder. Sukuna squeezed your hip before lifting you off of him completely and allowing Satoru to scoop you up like he had before.

“You did good for the first time. Let Satoru help you, and get some rest,” he said. He stood up, reaching for his clothes scattered around the floor.

You didn’t get the chance to say anything before Satoru was walking away with you in his arms. Lazily looking around, you saw he brought you into a small bedroom, just off the alcove next to where you’d been tied up.

He placed you on the bed gently and walked away to grab something. You watched as he grabbed a small towel before returning to you. With gentle hands, he cleaned up the mess between your legs. 

He confused you. Well really, they both did. While he was seemingly the more mean of the two, the one who’d tease and mock, the one who’d pound you into the couch without care for how it affected you, he was also the one coddling you, caring for you as though you were made of glass.

And Sukuna. Apparently he was the rough one, the least tolerant of bullshit, the one who’d threaten you about biting but mark up your neck like he was a wild animal, he’d been relatively gentle while you were on top of him.

It left you with a lot of questions, but you had the mental capacity for none of them right now.

“See, it’s not so bad here,” Satoru said while tending to you. “I’m sure you won’t love it right away, but you really will be a good fit soon enough.”

You stayed quiet at that. Whatever job they had planned for you after having their fun, you didn’t want to know. You couldn’t imagine doing something so polar opposite of everything you stood for. But would you give up your survival if that was the cost of refusing? You weren’t sure.

Soon enough, Satoru had wiped you thoroughly enough. He discarded the towel and smiled down at you for a second. His fingers came out and ran just along the bruise on your eye.

“I’ll bring you some ice for that. Just try to get some sleep for now. When you wake up, I’ll have them bring you some dinner. And we’ll be back to check on you later,” he said with a grin.

You didn’t bother asking who “they” were or where he and Sukuna were going or what they would do next. All would be pointless questions, and all you wanted to do now was sleep. You could think of a different angle for this when you woke up. But for now, you let your eyes close as the main door to the place shut. Vaguely, you heard the lock click into place.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Thunder Couple ⚡ | Bucky Barnes

Marvel Masterlist

note: Just saw Thunderbolts* today in theaters and all I can say is Marvel cooked with this one. It's the best MCU movie in a while (up there with GOT3 post-Endgame) and the overall theme/messages throughout the film were portrayed so well. And I nearly jumped out of my seat during the second post-credit scene I mean I literally almost lost it. Anyway, I'm might even see it again tomorrow and y'all already know I'm sat for Fantastic Four First Steps. Get ready for some Thunderbolts* headcanons these next couple chapters.

content warnings: spoilers for Thunderbolts*!! (scroll if you haven't seen it yet!) overall major fluff

-------------------------

Being in a relationship with Bucky Barnes while also being a Thunderbolt* would look like:

Having been a CIA operative turned rogue hitman for Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, you were 'a guest' in her little cleanup operation that ultimately resulted in your unorthodox team-up with fellow anti-heroes that in turn became the Thunderbolts*/New Avengers. Falling in love with former Winter Soldier turned Congressman Bucky Barnes was not in the plan, but hey you can't help what the heart wants.

The others constantly tease y'all and will be like "uh oh, mommy and daddy are fighting again," whenever you two argue during a mission or while planning an attack. Bucky is headstrong and stubborn, but you're the only one who can really get through that hard head of his. He respects you so much that honestly, there's no point in arguing, he's gonna do what you think is best. 

Couples that throw hands against bad guys together, stay together. The two of you are an unstoppable duo when it comes to missions--watching each other's six, throwing weapons for the other to catch, throwing each other if it's necessary. "Babe, I know you're a super soldier and all, but can you try to be a little gentler when I ask you to toss me across the platform?" 

Staying up late in the tower's penthouse going over files which just ends being you two cuddled on the couch watching a Met's game if it's on or catching Bucky up on another movie he missed out on. Star Wars, the Godfather, The Matrix, the Equalizer, Grease, etc. He's got so many questions and anytime you watch an action movie the man is criticizing the fighting technique. 

You train together most days although the man tends to hold himself back because he's afraid of hurting you with his strength. and he's not available then you usually train with Yelena and Ava while he, John and Alexi do their super soldier showdowns. At that point you three just watch and take bets on who wins. Of course, your money is on Bucky. 

Bucky will put his arm in the dishwasher to clean and you'll discover it when you go to load the dishwasher. "Bucky! Is your arm clean to your liking or do you want me to give it another spin?" "Another spin, darling, thanks!"

If his hair gets too long, you'll offer to give him haircuts because he's too damn lazy to do it himself or go to a barber saying, "We've got more important things to worry about than my hair."  It gets to a point that after his millionth complaint you simply grab his arm and push him into the chair yourself. "Your ass is staying here until I'm done and if you get up while I'm working then it's your fault for the fuck ass hairdo you'll be rocking from here on."

Expect harsh kisses filled with relief after a job completed. Especially if there was a close call involving you. Bucky will grab your face in his hands and practically push you off your feet by the force of his lips claiming your own. And he doesn't give a fuck where you are or if his political reputation is reprimanded, that man is kissing you like it's his only way to breath. "Don't ever--." *kiss* "--scare me like that--." *kiss* "again, L/n."

[rafesangelita]

…DILF!RAFE X BITCHY!KOOK!READER AU

⋆𐙚₊˚🐈‍⬛⊹♡

DILF!RAFE X BITCHY!KOOK!READER first met each other over drinks at the country club bar, both of them seemingly washing away their problems with premium alcohol. she hadn’t noticed him at all until the bartender brought her a drink that she didn’t pay for. “courtesy of mr. cameron.” she looked up to see that the only man seated not too far away from her was already staring at her over his own glass. attractive, slightly intimidating and cold looking, and the cherry on top— obviously loaded with money, it didn’t take long for bitchy!kook!reader to come to the conclusion that this ‘mr. cameron’ was exactly her type. swallowing her pride, she made her way over, her hand brushing his thigh as she settled in to the seat next to him. “i could understand why i’ve decided to spend my friday night here all by myself, but you? it’s not making sense to me.”

DILF!RAFE X BITCHY!KOOK!READER who end up staying at the country club past closing time, both of them talking nonstop as they drunkenly laid out their dirty laundry to each other, neither of them sparing a single detail from their conversation. dilf!rafe finds out bitchy!kook!reader’s parents make him look like he’s dad of the year despite him having a really hard time balancing his work and home life. rafe tells her that he’s been divorced for almost a year now, his kids having decided to leave tanneyhill with their mother when things got really messy. “what guts me is that my kids wanted to stay with me first. they gave me a chance and they watched their mom leave for the mainland in tears, and i still couldn’t be there for them the way they needed. i basically live at work, and once they picked up on that, there was no going back.”

DILF!RAFE X BITCHY!KOOK!READER who come to the realization that they fit each other like puzzle pieces. bitchy!kook!reader— having never been part of a family, craving the attention of an authoritive figure, and rafe— seeing that she’s so much younger than him and wanting to redeem himself for not being the dad that he wishes he could be. the two of them end up back at rafe’s place that very night where it doesn’t take dilf!rafe a lot of time to figure bitchy!kook!reader out. seeing that she has never had anyone tell her no, let alone discipline her, he finds himself correcting her attitude and bratty tendencies by fucking it right out of her. he’s not letting up on her until he see’s tears rolling down her cheeks and the only thing she could say is a pathetic ‘sorry!’ every time he thrusts into her.

DILF!RAFE X BITCHY!KOOK!READER who develop an interesting relationship dynamic, both of them filling each other’s voids in the most perverted ways. making her cum until she was nothing but a blabbering mess, dilf!rafe never failed to pound her in until she was set straight. “you wanna stomp in your little heels and roll your eyes at me like i’m one of your girlfriends? i don’t think so. you don’t get to do whatever the fuck you want when you’re inside my house. you follow my rules when you’re under my roof, do you understand that?” of course, bitchy!kook!reader nodded without hesitation, her defiant demeanor melting away into nothing as rafe worked her body like no one else knew how to. dilf!rafe always comforted her after he was done ‘punishing’ her, her trembling form being enveloped by his big arms as her heart fluttered in her chest at the closeness and intimacy of it all.

DILF!RAFE X BITCHY!KOOK!READER who often find themselves arguing about bitchy!kook!reader’s irresponsible decisions to party on the weekends until she’s calling rafe for help, her heels clicking against the pavement as she struggles to stay upright on her feet. while rafe tries his best to keep in mind that she’s still young and living her life, he can’t help but to lecture her all the way back to his place. “i can’t stop you from having your fun, but at least be responsible about it. the thought of you standing out there all disoriented just doesn’t sit well with me.” he grumbles, his knuckles turning white from his tight grip on the steering wheel. while bitchy!kook!reader knows she should be receptive towards rafe’s words, she’s instead smiling at him as she rests her feet on his lap. “thank you for caring about me.”

[jaeminvore]

I’ve checked telegram and babes, would you believe me if I say we've first talked about u working on this fic in 2023? (to be fair, it was around november so we'll round that off to very early 2024) CRAZY I KNOW which is why I'm extra extra excited about this:

First of all, I already expected Jeno to be sad but goddamn i was not expecting him to be that sad and jesus do i feel for the guy omfg 😭 i couldn't even imagine being constantly compared to my brother who I should have been looking up to thanks a lot Jeno's mom! Mother of the year everyone 😒😒 way to fuck up your kid so young KDGHFDKJG

"“Aren’t you supposed to kiss your professor’s feet, given that you’re in student council? And here I thought you’d be a good girl.” Jeno rasped, resting his arms on your table, leaning down to your level."

Girl. If i tell you I screamed? And the back and forth after that. Man. you could really tell he was so over it. I mean I get it though and Jeno hasn't really done anything to make his reputation less notorious so I understand MC's aversion lol because personally, I would like to stay away. Still, I also understand Jeno's frustration whew.

AND JAEHYUN REALLY HAS THE WORST TIMING PLEAKSFGSDFG kick a guy when he's already down and he just really had to see MC practically tripping on her own two feet to make nice with Jaehyun oh my godhghdfkghdfg I'd HATE to be him rn. Like everywhere he goes, he still finds himself in his step-brother's shadow GOD put me in the psych word atp.

“Y/n, I’m not fucking kidding, you should leave. Besides, the one you came for isn’t at home at the moment,” he muttered bitterly. That caught your attention, “oh? Busy with a job then?” You asked, looking around the exquisite paintings hung at the entrance of his place. “Are you gonna leave or do I have to call the guards to escort you out?”

Girl, oh my fucking GOD, read the room!! Well, that could have gone worse 😭😭 quite literally bracing myself for the hurt that's about to come in a couple of thousand of words but my goodness do I love the back and forth KFGHKDFG you should give yourself a pat on the back for executing it so well. I could feel the frustration from the screen fr.

“Fucking hell, you’re the girl he keeps on stalking and crying about?” He chuckled, “let me call him,” he turned away for a second.

Omg Jaemin, the gremlin, mention HIHIHI 🩷 okay but Jeno was a little funny for that JHSGJFDFGH lowkey a little shit too eye see it's giving friends who would tease you about your crush except this is MC dealing with a crazy ex that does not know when to give up LMAO getting back on track, THE TENSION HELLO smashing MC and Jeno's faces together like barbies rn they should kiss I think maybe that'll solve everything right now.

But them sharing a laugh after literally running away from eldritch horror Jaemin is so cute it's moments like this that has me giddy fr (I'm a hopeless romantic wbk) yeah they need to bone man. But hello?? WDYM Jaemin still has a pic of him and MC together on his insta FAWKKKK that guy's obsessed and not like in a hot way either. Jeno do something I'll give you ten bucks rn if you do.

Jeno’s heart was beating fast, he wasn’t sure if he had words to speak at this moment, so staring at you was all he could do. You spoke for him. You defended him. No one’s ever done that, no one cared enough to understand, moreover, it didn’t help how you looked angrier than him at the situation.

GIRL. ARIA. BABE. HESJFGHDKFHG JENOOOOOO GET BEHIND ME RN 😭😭😭😭 Jeno being vulnerable >>>>>>

“Jeno, you’re doing so well, you know that right?” You whispered, as genuine as possible, your fingers grabbing his own, which made him look up at you finally." ... “No one’s ever said that,” he spoke so silently, you almost missed it. You held his hand tight—being almost angrier than him while answering his mom back—he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be over that. 

and MC going out of her way to tell him that whatever his mom says, essentially conditioning at this point cos wtf man, isn’t true. Like it’s so nice omg sometimes we just really need one person on our side to make things better yk?? (add me to your side Jeno, my babygirl my bubblegum princess cutiepie) Just the thought that no matter what happens I know I could depend on that person CRYING RN.

Crashing out right now because Jeno's crashing out is definitely a first holy shit, but it's relieving that he finally let all that built up frustration out oh my you really can't help but feel for him poor guy :(

“Because you’re real, you don’t fake your emotions. You don’t smile at somebody who you don’t care about, you get angry, messy, you let yourself be shown how you are,” you lip twitched slightly as you said so, your own heartbeat rose at the sentences you so easily uttered, “that’s what makes you a human, Jeno, a human who’s trying his best, which is what matters.”

Like, I don't even need to say anything man. MC my GOAT!!!!

“Say it again,” he whispered.  “Say what?” You breathed.  “That you’re glad I’m not him.”

He could quite literally tell me to jump and I'd say, "how high?"

AND OF COURSE THEY GET INTERRUPTED JUST AS THEY WERE ABOUT TO KISS. Jaehyun meet me in the nearest 7/11 parking lot so I can kick your non-existent ass! AND THE AUDACITY OF JAEMIN TO COME SWINGING WITH WORDS TALKING SHIT ABOUT JENO now there's two people i have to fucking fight damn 😒😒 like this pmo bro:

“I just don’t get it,” he said, voice colder now. “He’s always angry, I was angry, I made you feel something, can he say the same?” Your head was hurting by now, as you mumbled yet another shut up, only to be stopped by Jaemin as he grabbed your arm.  “What? He’s the angry, tortured type. You’re into hopeless projects now?”

Jaemin going on and on and on gave me a visceral feeling of anger like shut up dude looool "I was angry" like that was a good thing to begin with KJGHDFJKG I gotta say though, he makes a great antagonist like im hating him so much rn LOL. On another note, Jeno asking MC to ask Jaemin to leave is lowkey hot LMAOOOOO.

e%$^%$$##$%#$^ nOOOOOOO JUST WHEN I THOUGHT EVERYHTING WAS GONNA GO SMOOTHLY (I say as if I haven't witnessed your progress in telegram) Two steps forward, one step back... man, I'm just gonna stick to the "it gets worse before it gets better" saying 🙂‍↕️ BUT I GET YOU JENO with the shit that he's been through, I can't blame him for thinking of the worst like his self-esteem got the brunt of his Mom's words over the years </3 I wanna give him a hug... aaaand the tension is back let's all live!! I'm ngl I love how MC doesn't take shit from anyone like look at her keeping Jeno on his toes YUM!

“No,” you stepped forward. “You don’t get it. You think everything is about being chosen or abandoned. But not everyone’s trying to leave you, Jeno. Sometimes people show up. But you keep slamming the door in their face.”

Damn. This shit is fire girl. My jaw-dropped like literally JSDRGFJDG CLOCK IT MC!!!! Everything is crashing and burning because of Jeno YES I SAID IT (i'm in tears).

“I ruin things,” he said, “I always have. I don’t know how to love something without fucking it up. But I wanted you anyway—I still do.” Your throat tightened. “And I’m supposed to what? Carry all of that? Be your exception?” “No,” he said, stepping closer. “I just need you to see that I’m trying. Even if it’s ugly. Even if I’m bleeding and loud and afraid. I need you to see me, and stay anyway.”

Absolute cinema. Jesus, maybe love is about being uncomfortable enough to let people see how rotten we can be from the inside, and yet be loved all the same. Something something about loving someone isn't always going to be easy, it takes one person to power through the hardships with you and stay anyways GODDDDDDDD 💔💔💔

“I hate that I hurt you,” he whispered. “But I’d rather burn with you than freeze without you.”

oh my god?????????? you're gonna have to pay for my therapy sessions girl. THIS SHIT IS FIRE!!! (part 2)

You broke the kiss first, panting, eyes wide. “You shouldn’t—” you tried to say, especially when his body was hurting.  “I have to,” he breathed, leaning in again. ���Let me, just once. Please.”

SCREAMINGGGG OH MY FUGHK DSFG I could just imagine Jeno pleading with a broken voice I'm already burning hot from my country's fucked up climate and he just had to say all that FAWKKK and the sex... oh my god.. the emotion behind it, the absolute desperation these two have for each other is so visceral it feels like I shouldn't be here to witness such intimacy holy shit. Not to mention the possessive streak.. the teasing... the dirty talk... if this fic was a full course meal best believe I'd devour this entire thing and leave the damn plates clean omfg.

THE GAGGING MC WITH HER PANTIES BIT WAAAAHSFJKAHSDK UR CRAZY 😭😭😭 Jeno u control freak u r so sexy to me..

“You’re mine,” he mumbled, “say it.” “Yours—I’m yours,” you breathed as best as you could.  “Again.” “I’m yours, Jeno.” “Fuck—again.” “So so fucking yours, I’m all yours Jeno.” “Mine,” he whispered, so possessive. 

Oh I'm his already might as well write "Jeno" on my forehead in Sharpie KJSDFGHKDFG the aftercare dfjghdfg he's such a sweetheart bye he is really trying for both his and MC's sake that is also very lovely to me... my babies..

(this was me reading:)

Because this, the hand holding, the quiet teasing, the stares that didn’t matter anymore, this was normal. And for the first time in his life, Jeno finally understood: Normal didn’t mean boring. It meant chosen. It meant enough. It meant being yours.

Wow. What a wild ride honestly and I'm floored at the fact that you've managed to outdo yourself yet again 👏🏼👏🏼 The writing was amazing as always oh my fucking god you really had me eating from the palm of your hand with how much I enjoyed every second reading this while I sweat my ass off because it's still hot as fuck here LMFAOOO and I am very proud of how far you've come with your writing!

It gets better and better with time I swear and that's putting it lightly like I could go on and on, but I feel like this is already too long KSDHGDKFHG JUST KNOW THAT i'M YOUR NO.1 FAN AND I CAN'T WAIT TO DEVOUR THE NEXT FIC YOU HAVE IN STORE FOR US WEEEEEEE ily and ily for sharing this fic with us hehe it's a privilege I would never take for granted fr 💖💖

CALL ME WHEN YOU HATE ME LESS

PAIRING: lee jeno x fem!reader (ft. jaehyun and jaemin)

GENRE/CW: smut, angst, eventual fluff, porn with plot, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, choking, blowjob, using panties as a gag, spitting, edging, squirting, mentions of fighting, blood, usage of nicknames, slowburn if you squint, emotional trauma, lmk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT: 18,321 words. (18.3k)

PLAYLIST: here.

SYNOPSIS: Jeno Lee was a walking academic hazard—hot, broody, and failing just about everything that wasn’t football. Enter you, his new tutor: organized, overachieving, and absolutely not here for his attitude or his annoyingly perfect jawline. But between late-night study sessions, petty insults, and one very inconvenient almost-kiss, things start spiraling—fast. He’s supposed to be you project. You are supposed to hate him. Instead, you both are one sarcastic comment away from either a breakdown or a makeout—and honestly, it could go either way.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni (the full fic will include smut).

A/N: hihi, angels! i'm finally back with a jeno fic aaa thank you my girls @jaeminvore @hoondrop @gojosmojodojo for giving me ideas and listening to me losing my shit over this fic <333 i hope y’all enjoy reading it <33 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

Chapter 1: Raised in Shadows, Told to Shine. 

Comparison. 

The core of all insecurities. The onset of overthinking. The path to self loathing. 

That’s what comparison does to a person—drive them to the edge of insanity in hopes of turning into something; into someone the others will look up to, compare themselves to. 

It was a bad thing per se, but it was motivation enough for Jeno to work harder in order to leave the country, to get away from his family. 

The reason? His mother ever so conveniently happened to have fallen in love with a rich guy, someone who never knew what struggle meant, and Jeno was just four back then. It didn’t take much time for him to settle into the lifestyle, however, no matter how much he could have prepared to face his step-brother, he simply couldn’t bother looking him in the eye. 

Why? Because he was known to be the epitome of perfection. Jung Jaehyun was the son every parent wanted, the student every teacher was fond of, the doctor every nurse wanted to work with. 

The sweet dimple on his cheek was a great asset in melting the hearts of everyone in his proximity or afar. 

Jeno on the other hand, wasn’t quite sure why he wasn’t considered to be enough, especially when he got decent grades throughout his school life, he wasn’t a bother, kind to those who were around them, but it changed. 

It changed when he got daily reminders of how he wasn’t even close to how amazing and successful his step brother was. 

That’s when things started looking down for Jeno. He stopped caring about the grades, he wasn’t sure why he was supposed to put up a I’m so good, so smart act in front of others when there was no reason for him to do that. 

Others didn’t bother doing the same for him. 

Rather, he tried to work upon the only thing he was passionate about, the only thing that mattered to him—football. 

Despite winning several trophies for playing the sport, his parents labelled it to be useless, which broke the last fragment of his heart, shattering it to the point of no return. 

Which would explain his current demeanor—moody, permanent scowl on his perfectly sculpted face and no care for the others around him. His sole focus being football, which is also the reason behind his current dilemma. 

“Being an excellent player in the sports team does not guarantee you your scholarship, Mr. Lee,” Jeno’s teacher incharge spoke up, taking off her specs right after reviewing his annual grade report, “you’re failing three out of five modules, and if you don’t start getting back on track soon, then I’m afraid you won’t be able to play in the team anymore.” 

Fuck. 

Jeno had been neglecting his studies, he admits, yet he never thought that he’d reach this point. It’s not that he wasn’t smart, he simply had no motivation to go on with his studies. His parents could easily pay the university to keep him around, however, he wanted nothing from them, which also explains why he got himself a scholarship in the first place. 

“I’m sorry if I’m late.” Jeno’s eyes snapped wide open, turning back to see his step brother entering the teacher’s cabin. 

“Why are you here?” Jeno asked, a muscle in his jaw twitching but Jaehyun only smiled. 

Jeno’s professor was equally stunned, probably even more with her jaw wide open at the appearance of such a handsome young man. 

“I called him in since your parents were busy,” his professor said, handling Jeno a letter, “go and find your tutor in the council room, she’ll be helping you with the upliftment of your grades, Mr. Lee, and now if you’ll excuse us, I’ve got to fill in your brother with your current situation,” she said the last part awfully sweetly as Jaehyun sat down in one of the vacant chairs, smiling at her kind tone. 

Jeno scoffed, the demeanor change around Jaehyun went crazy and he wasn’t a fan of it, especially when he was called in to complain about his mistakes. 

He simply wanted to leave the university and never come back. 

He waited, taking deep breaths before punching the wall, not being able to contain his anger. The impact did hurt, yet he paid no heed to it, the blood dripping as he walked towards the council room to get over with the day. 

The name written on the sheet wasn’t unfamiliar to him, rather it only wearied the already infuriated boy as he knocked on the door of the student council room, which was empty except for you sitting there, working on a few papers which appeared to be the newsletter for the month. 

“Come in,” you allowed, not looking up as Jeno made his way inside the room, observing the surroundings where he’s never been before. 

Then he looked your way, taking in your appearance. You looked cozy in your university varsity jacket, your specs sitting on your nose as you buried yourself in reading whatever it was that you were reading. He couldn’t deny you looked pretty in a way that’s comforting to eyes. 

With no words exchanged, he pushed the letter towards you, which finally made you look up at the source of disturbance, your eyebrows raising slightly as you most certainly did not expect the star football player to visit you in the council room, which he’s never been to before. 

He simply stood there, hands shoved into his pockets while still looking around, and you took a second to grab the letter, skimming over to read and understand that the letter was given by Mrs. Kim, the teacher in charge of your department, requesting you to take up the few teaching sessions you had applied for, Jeno being the student you’ll have to teach for the same. 

You clicked your tongue, folding the letter exactly as it was before pushing it his way, your arms folding across your chest as you finally spoke up, “I reject. I don’t wish to teach you.”

His eyes were quick to snap towards you, finally staring right into your own eyes, irritation clear as he pushed his tongue on his inner cheek, eyebrow raised. 

“Aren’t you supposed to kiss your professor’s feet, given that you’re in student council? And here I thought you’d be a good girl.” Jeno rasped, resting his arms on your table, leaning down to your level. 

You chuckled, expecting the exact response from him, “this is exactly why I don’t want to waste my time on you—you athletes don’t wish to study, you just require a passing grade, for which I don’t have time to spare.” 

“What the fuck do you mean waste your time?” 

“Lee Jeno, you’ve got more money with you than your bank account can handle, so I’m sure losing your scholarship won’t do you much harm,” you said with a sickening smile, “you’ve got no interest in studying, your attendance record states that oh so proudly.” 

“You don’t know shit about me,” Jeno seethed out, messy hair strands falling over his eyes. 

“I know everything I need to know about you. Now excuse me, unlike you, I actually have work to do,” you said, passing him a tight lipped smile, not letting the proximity faze you. 

“You—” 

Jeno’s sentence was cut short with two sharp knocks on the slightly ajar door, a head peeking in, successfully garnering your attention. You could feel your mood doing one eighty with the sudden intrusion of this stranger—whom you didn’t wish to be a stranger around anymore, your eyes softening, lips parting as you stared at him in awe. 

Meanwhile, if Jeno thought that the day was done being a bitch to him, then he was wrong because the level of irritation that bubbled up in him the moment he saw the change in your expressions. 

“Sorry to interrupt, may I get in?” Jaehyun asked, smiling his usual dimpled smile, which had you swooning in record time. 

You could practically see veins of frustration popping out on Jeno’s neck, “no. Your work is done, you should head back home,” he groaned, but Jaehyun only looked you way, continuing to get in, looking your way. 

“I’m Jaehyun, Jeno’s elder brother. I can’t thank you enough for agreeing on giving him tutoring lessons, especially with how busy you must be with council duties,” he spoke up, shaking your hand, which was smaller in his warm, big hands. 

Jeno scoffed, “she’s not—”

“Of course, Jaehyun! It’s my pleasure to help him out, and it’ll only help me better with my extracurricular credits! It’s no problem,” you nodded, a gentle smile on your face as your eyes practically twinkled with excitement, taking in the beauty that Jaehyun beheld. 

It was ridiculous. 

It was absurd how just two sentences; paired with a sweet smile from his brother, were enough for you to change your decision, in the span of two seconds at that. 

He tightened the hold he had on the strap of his black bag, “no fucking need. I’ll find another tutor,” Jeno deadpanned, walking out of the room, not paying attention to Jaehyun who called out his name in the background. 

He wouldn’t let you use him to get to his brother. 

With that thought, he decided to detour and make his way to the gym, trying to blow off steam by practicing punching, each one getting progressively stronger as his mind replayed the difference in your behaviour when it came to him and his brother. 

It didn’t bother him that his knuckles were bruising, he knew he needed this extrinsic pain to get rid of the obvious hurt he felt each day. 

And he couldn’t understand why he felt so affected by your actions, especially when it was the first time you had met. 

Jealousy was indeed a bitch. 

Chapter 2: Surrendered to the skirt. 

Two days passed by and Jeno’s mood showed no progress in terms of improving, rather, he felt worse each time the memory invaded his brain. He tried his best to sit down and open the first module of the unit he had to study. 

It’s not like he was bad at studying, he was just a bit out of practice, and well, his mental health wasn’t doing much to help him get any better. 

Just when he was about to actually get a hang of getting into the topic, the doorbell rang. His parents were out for business, as usual, and his step brother was busy doing morning shifts, which meant that he was alone at the mansion, minus the myriad of worker staff they had to take care of the place. 

Essentially, he had to get down to see who it was at the door, only to spot you leaning against the doorframe as one of the attendants had asked you to wait. He stopped, observing you from the staircase as you typed something on your phone. 

Why were you here after clearly rejecting him? Why were you here when he’s clearly told you he doesn’t want you to be his tutor?

Scoffing, he walked down the stairs and towards you, standing right in front of you, clearly invading your personal space as he decided to lean against the same side of the thick door frame with his brows raised.

You took a second to take in his appearance as he was clad in casual gray sweatpants with a black tank, which honestly did nothing to hide his muscles. 

“Why are you here?” Jeno asked with a bored tone. 

“I’m here to teach you, remember?” You gave him a pointed look. 

“And I clearly told you I don’t wish to study from you, it’s better if you leave now. I’ll just tell Mrs. Kim that you taught me,” he said, almost turning back to go inside. 

“And have them wondering how you failed even after getting tutored by me? Yeah, I don’t think so,” you shook your head, inviting yourself in without second thoughts. 

“Y/n, I’m not fucking kidding, you should leave. Besides, the one you came for isn’t at home at the moment,” he muttered bitterly. 

That caught your attention, “oh? Busy with a job then?” You asked, looking around the exquisite paintings hung at the entrance of his place. 

“Are you gonna leave or do I have to call the guards to escort you out?”

You chuckled, “you really don’t want the previous year questions I have? The council students get them each year you see, they’re bound to guarantee you good marks,” you explained with a smirk. 

Jeno groaned, his lip bitten as he tried to think if tolerating you would be worth the questions, but his football career was at stake and there was no better option but to accept it. 

“What’s the catch?” Jeno asked after a few seconds, sighing with defeat. 

“Nothing at all. We both know that you need these papers to get the grade that you wanna achieve and I’ll get my extra credits,” you reason. 

“You just wanna meet my brother,” he said dryly, “either way, you won’t get to see a lot of him, he’s always at the hospital, working and being the perfect son he is. Plus, he’s definitely not into uni students,” he looked you up and down, soon gulping and looking elsewhere. 

You were clad in a pretty skirt which showed off your legs—which you did wear in hopes of crossing paths with Jaehyun, but you completely missed how Jeno was staring at your body. 

He wasn’t sure if it was out of hatred that he stared at you, or it was admiration because you were one of those people he despised—overachievers.  

You were in the student council, got good grades and professors favoured you, it wouldn’t be a surprise if your parents loved you for being the ideal daughter. It most certainly didn’t help that your appearance seemed as if you were the sweetest, kindest angel on earth, which wasn’t the case when you were around Jeno though. 

“I’ll manage,” you shrugged, “so, I need your final word, Mr. Lee.”

“I am sure I can find better tutors than you,” he raised his brows, challenging you and you didn’t look fazed at all. 

“I am quite literally the best, professor Kim asked me to tutor you for a reason, besides, no one’s gonna agree to help you out with exams being only one month away,” you made your point, extending your hand for him to finalize his decision. 

Overconfidence. He sighed. 

Jeno stared at your extended hand, thinking of the bigger picture here. He’d get tutoring and would be able to score decent grades if he gets back to his usual routine of studying. 

Downside? He’d have to face you each day. 

Sighing and keeping his feelings in check, he simply nodded, taking your smaller hand into his as he accepted the offer, suddenly aware of the warmth of your palm and how it leaves a tingling feeling behind as you shake his hand firmly with a smirk. 

“So, where are we gonna study?” 

Chapter 3: Silent room, a loud mind. 

Turns out, it’s not that easy to sit down and just teach Jeno. 

Given the amount of classes he had missed, or rather, the amount of classes he had managed to attend, it was clear that he didn’t even have the basic idea of the syllabus for the semester modules. 

Moreover, you had already pissed him off by mentioning how you didn’t expect him to have such a clean and organized room, as if you had already decided that he was going to be a messy human. 

Moving forward, you both sat down next to each other with your laptop open in front of you as you made him write down all the topics he needed to cover for the next month, forming a sort of timetable of a kind. 

It was surprisingly peaceful between you two, as if you both wished to get over with it as soon as possible, behaving as civilly as you could but there was this one thing that Jeno couldn’t stop doing. 

Overthinking. 

It’s the way you looked his way with disappointed and concerned filled eyes whenever he messed up, the way his jaw clenched when you told him to do better, the way he couldn’t help but stare at your glossed up lips as you looked around his room, eyes settling on his childhood pictures which were framed. 

It was also new to him to actually interact with people outside of his football team, especially girls. He couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to one. He wondered what was going on in your mind, he wondered if you were silently judging him through it all.

That’s all what people in his life did anyway. 

“You were cute as a kid, what happened to you now?” You joked, chuckling as you looked his way, only to find his mouth slightly agape.

He hadn’t expected you to say that, and he certainly didn’t want to retort back with something that would ruin his mood, “I grew up to be hot is what happened to me,” he replied smoothly. 

“Oh, so you do know how to joke around,” you raised your brows in surprise. It was indeed the image he had formed over the years. The image of him being nothing more than a rude jock who wouldn’t even reply to someone nicely. 

Now that you were actually interacting with him, you were going to find out how many of the rumors were true about him. 

He only leaned closer at your statement, you could see his muscles flexing as he rested one arm on the table in front of you both, “it’s not a joke, love. I am hot.”

You scoffed at the term of endearment, suddenly aware of his scent now that he was so close to you, “and egoistic too,” you helpfully added. 

“Rightfully so.”

Your childish argument was interrupted that very second as the door to Jeno’s room swung open, revealing the exact man you came to see. 

Jaehyun was smiling, dressed in black slacks and a button up shirt as he welcomed you here, and you were quick to notice Jeno’s mood turning fowl that very second. 

“Thank you so much for coming here, Y/n. Let me send a few snacks and drinks for you both while you study,” he smiled, and you rushed up to stand, not even bothering about the pen that fell down as you did so. 

“Jaehyun,” you walked up to him, much to Jeno’s dismay, “oh, you don’t have to do anything,” you smiled sweetly, and he only shook his head softly, grabbing your arm. 

“Don’t worry about it, just sit and relax, okay?” He squeezed your arm, going downstairs and you sighed with a smile. Even his scent was perfect to you. 

“You done daydreaming?” Jeno asked, deadpanning once his brother had left. 

“You done solving the question?” You retorted. 

He sighed, as if his energy was drained already, “yeah, just check and get this over with,” he said, handing you the binder and looking elsewhere. 

It was probably the first time you actually paid attention to his dejected tone, as if he didn’t have the energy to fight back, and you obviously didn’t wish to irk him more, especially when he looked so frustrated right now. Thankfully, a lot of his answers were indeed correct, which was another surprise to you. 

He was smart, he just simply didn’t wish to study. 

“Something wrong?” He asked, cocking his brow and you blinked, “you’re actually not as dumb as you portray yourself to be,” you mumbled, checking everything thoroughly. 

It should’ve been insulting to Jeno per se, but even the slightest amount of approval was a big thing for him, causing the corner of his lips to curl up. He felt insane, the amount of emotions he felt in a single day was perhaps the reason for the same, courtesy of you. 

He was glad Jaehyun didn’t enter the room again, sending in a servant staff to give you the snacks instead, which maintained the peace throughout the session. 

You couldn’t help but notice how well he concentrated once there was silence in the room, your eyes focused on his hand gripping the pen, making it seem more veiny than it already was. 

Also, you didn’t miss the hint of a smile ghosting his face when you told him he did a good job right before leaving, which made you think of a few things, one being— 

He looked beautiful with a smile. 

Chapter 4: You can’t read my mind, so read my lips. 

As much as Jeno loved the comfort of his room, he really wanted to avoid you bumping into Jaehyun again.

Even the thought of your interactions, your fake sweet smiles, made him wanna punch the wall. Jaehyun really had it easy and Jeno never understood why, it was no joke that Jeno was decent looking as well, talented in his own way, and a kind hearted person who just happened to have a protective wall around him so as to not get hurt any further. 

Which is why you had been tutoring him in the library from the past ten sessions, his own personal request to avoid having privacy with you. 

Heck, even Jeno didn’t know it was his own mind trying to protect him, which is why he couldn’t let anyone in, anyone.  

Which made this situation far from ideal as he had you pressed against the library wall, no distance between you both as you closed your eyes in pure distress. 

“What the actual fuck is he doing here?” Your question was directed more to yourself, which confused Jeno further.

He poked his tongue into his cheek, annoyance creeping through, “what the fuck is going on?” He asked. 

“Shhh, not so loud,” you pressed your palm against his mouth, “just hide me.”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrist effortlessly, pinning it above your head, “you don’t tell me what to do, yeah?” He mumbled, flustering you under his gaze before your eyes travelled back to where you were looking initially. 

He sighed in annoyance, looking back at the direction of your supposed fear. 

Na Jaemin. Another of Jeno’s football teammates. 

“Why are you hiding from Jaemin,” he asked, brow raised as he leaned into you. 

“Ugh,” you groaned, “he’s my ex, he shouldn’t even be in the library, he’s never here!” You were stressed and Jeno smirked devilishly. 

“Fucking hell, you’re the girl he keeps on stalking and crying about?” He chuckled, “let me call him,” he turned away for a second. 

You used your free hand to grab his nape, “don’t fucking move,” you mumbled. 

Perhaps you were too harsh with the grabbing, also not calculating the proximity enough, because Jeno’s nose was brushing against yours, lips close to the point of touching, and a low groan escaping his lips as your name rolls out his tongue in the most angry grunt ever, “what the actual fuck are you doing?” 

“J—just let him leave,” you mumbled, gulping and closing your eyes, his mint breath fanning your face as heat crept up your neck, up till your ears. 

“What will I get out of it,” he asked, his free hand resting on your waist now, “why should I help you?”

“I’m literally helping you study, Jeno,” you seethed out.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he groaned, making you open your eyes, staring into his deep ones now, suddenly feeling small under his gaze, and well, his body. 

“What?” you asked, looking away to check if Jaemin had left, pushing Jeno away the second you confirmed it. 

Jeno, however, wasn’t having any of it. 

With a scoff and the shake of his head, he grabbed your wrist again, twisting it behind your back, not putting too much pressure so it just hurt but still made it clear how he would not let you go so easily, “you can’t run from me.”

“Let go, I fucking swear—” you let out, squirming around and pushing him, he didn’t budge at all sadly. 

“You do realize I’m a lot stronger than you, right?” He chuckled. 

“Fuck—what do you want me to do?” You rolled your eyes, jaw clenching as you looked at him. 

Before he could answer, your eyes widened in fear yet again as you yanked his arm so forcefully, he had no chance to balance himself, a yelp leaving his mouth as you ran and he was following right after you. 

Jaemin was back and you could just not deal with his ass anymore, hence the overwhelming response. Fight or flight? Flight for sure. Dragging Jeno into it might be a stretch but hey, whatever helped you run away from the gremlin, right? 

“Y/N,” Jeno hissed yet again, once you stopped by your seat, gathering both yours and his belongings scattered across the table from when you were studying a few minutes back, before getting up to find a book, before seeing Jaemin roaming around the halls of the library. 

It was quite amusing to Jeno if he was being honest, a mix of feelings as you grabbed his wrist effortlessly yet again, your eyes set on the exit door leading to the parking lot where Jeno’s Ferrari Purosangue stood proudly. 

“Get in!” You screamed even though you were far from the threat (read: Jaemin) now. 

“That’s my car in case you forgot—”

“Now.” 

“So fucking annoying—” He grumbled, with a small smile playing on his lips. 

You looked so bothered as if you were chased by Ghostface and not Jaemin, even though you probably wouldn’t run away from the prior. It was comical regardless, the long breath you exhaled once you were comfortable on his premium quality car seat, head leaned back fully. 

You opened your eyes after a few seconds only to find Jeno’s eyes on you, face curved into an amused look. You stared at one another for a second, two seconds, three seconds—and he burst out laughing. 

It was probably the first time you saw him laugh like that—so freely, without any care in this world. It was loud but breathless, making his eyes crinkle with small crescents forming, his perfectly aligned pearly teeth showing as he went on, laughing at your disheveled state and crazy response to everything that happened the past twenty minutes. 

You were calm and composed for the most part, it was rare for you to look this frustrated over anything, which came as a surprise to Jeno, the whole situation seemingly pure comedy to him. 

You observed him so carefully, your own lips twitching into a smile and before you knew it, you were laughing alongside him so normally as if two friends were laughing over a joke. 

A weird sort of warmth spread over your body, it made no sense honestly, you were pinned to the wall just a few minutes back and Jeno looked as if he’d burst into flames with his anger, and now he’s laughing at your disheveled, non-composed state. 

Once Jeno caught you staring back at him with glittering eyes, and a little smile, he froze. It was easy for him to come back to his senses (read: put his walls back up) which only made your smile drop too. It was awkward, both of you looking elsewhere while clearing your throats, definitely not something you expected. 

“Uh—sorry about that, yeah,” you mumbled, playing with the loose threat of your sweater sleeve. 

“Yeah, no problem,” he retorted, turning the car engine on to start driving. 

Why was it awkward? Because you laughed together like two absolutely normal individuals? Because you had Jeno pinning you to the wall to avoid your ex? 

Or because you almost kissed. Almost. 

 The ride back to your apartment was silent, no songs playing in the car, just the small buzz of engine, and the nail tapping on the screen of your phone—to avoid any kind of conversation happening, also clearly missing out on how Jeno glanced at you every few seconds, the speed of his thoughts running faster than his own car. 

“I’ll—see you tomorrow then?” Your voice cracked as you said so, wincing slightly at your own tone. 

Jeno was about to chuckle again, yet he covered it with a low cough as he mumbled a yes, as you opened the door once he stopped in front of your apartment. 

That’s it, you were leaving, and his eyes didn’t leave you till you disappeared into the apartment. 

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, groaning as he banged his head into it, a low horn sound only frustrating him further. It was hard for him to drive after, the scene of you being so vulnerable yet glaring at him like a scared little vixen trying to look brave, replayed in his mind. 

No, he couldn’t drive, couldn’t focus on the road anymore, stopping the car at a random parking lot of a fast food chain, grabbing his phone to pull up Instagram, specifically Jaemin’s account. 

He didn’t have to scroll much to find the picture he was looking for—his teammate, Jaemin, standing right next to you with his arm resting on your waist. Jeno didn’t know why that picture left a bitter taste in his mouth all of a sudden, knowing well how badly Jaemin fucked up when he cheated on you. 

And now the asshole is running after you again. 

You didn’t deserve that, you deserve someone better—someone perfect like you. 

He went back, not having it in him to look at the picture again, instead, going to your account now. It looked professional, all your posts being highly calculative to make your feed look pleasing. Your highlights, however, had this one particular picture—a picture of you smiling without a care in the world, so raw, so genuine, so beautiful. 

Beautiful. 

Jeno thought you looked beautiful, and it made him angry. 

He was angry—because deep down, he desired to be the reason for your smile. 

Chapter 5: Pretty in pink, but my head’s in the dark. 

Jeno made you smile. 

You did know that laugh was contagious, however, you didn’t think you’d actually give in to Jeno’s sweet chuckles. 

Sleep didn’t come to you easy when the constant reminder of the study session poked the back of your mind, not to mention what happened in the library earlier, where you and Jeno almost kissed—

No. 

You shook your head. Such niche experiences never falter you, so why was this such a big deal? 

Another groan left your mouth, but alas, your body was relaxed enough to sleep so you woke up energetic the next day. It felt oddly friendly when you saw Jeno at the University, and he threw a two finger salute your way, you waved back before going your way. 

“You’re zoned out, again.” Karina, one of your classmates, pointed out and you sighed as she rambled about how you needed to let some guy in, quite literally, to blow off some steam, which you clearly weren’t doing, hence the stuck up energy. 

Being descriptive about it didn’t help either—yet another reminder of how Jeno’s body was pressed against yours this hour, yesterday. 

Heat crept up your neck, urging you to pack up and leave the room. It was hot, stuffy almost for you to do anything, which is why you found yourself studying at the empty seat of the University park. 

You had to face him again, of course, there was no escape to that, and as if the universe was testing you, the time passed by way too quickly for your liking and soon, you found yourself standing in front of the main door of Jeno’s place. 

Before you could even ring the bell, the door opened to a huffing Jeno, almost as if he ran downstairs, but how did he know—

“Hey,” he whispered, looking around. 

He didn’t wait for your reply, simply grabbing your wrist and dragging you inside, your skin burning at the unexpected touch, but you didn’t shake him off of you, only asking in a low tone, “what are you doing?” 

“Shh,” Jeno mumbled, as though he was trying to avoid someone, or rather, trying to hide you from someone. His efforts were futile, however, once he heard that stern voice of his mother booming through the walls of his mansion. 

Now you get why Jeno was in a hurry, the look on her face had a chill going down your spine. 

You felt Jeno stiffen alongside you, his hold on your wrist now tighter, uncontrollably so. 

“You must be the new tutor for Jeno,” she said, scrutinizing every bit of your existence, Jeno’s jaw clenched at her unwavering gaze. 

“Yes ma’am, It’s a pleasure meeting you,” you tried to say, only for her to cut you off. 

“Trust me, darling. There must be no pleasure in helping Jeno, but I do hope he learns a thing or two from you—you look like a smart young lady, hopefully, a positive influence on him.” 

You looked at her with your mouth open slightly, not believing the sight in front of you. No mother should look down on their children like that, ever. 

“Mrs. Jung, I hope we’re talking about the same Jeno because he is amazing at studies, he grasps concepts faster than I do, and then I believe I’m the one who’s learning from him right now!” You smiled, full of enthusiasm, feeling Jeno’s hand dropping down from your wrist. 

“In fact, I’ve never seen anyone play football so perfectly while also being so brilliantly academically smart, I firmly believe his grades will shock you this time. Now, if you’ll excuse us, it’s time for our tutoring session.”

You passed her a small smile, the shock clear on her face, before grabbing Jeno’s hand and taking him along with you—to his room. You didn’t look back, simply closing the door as you breathed out with a pissed expression. 

Jeno’s heart was beating fast, he wasn’t sure if he had words to speak at this moment, so staring at you was all he could do. 

You spoke for him. 

You defended him. 

No one’s ever done that, no one cared enough to understand, moreover, it didn’t help how you looked angrier than him at the situation. 

“W—Why?” Jeno couldn’t keep his voice in check, “you didn’t have to—say all that.”

That’s when you turned around, facing him. All your anger disappeared once you focused on his face, so vulnerable, so confused, so desperate to know your answer. 

“Jeno,” the gentleness in your voice only made him gulp and look down at the floor, “I hope you don’t believe a word she says, because that’s not true,” you spoke, inching closer. 

You were not one who was good at making people feel better, Jeno of all people at that, however, this gave you an insight of why Jeno is the way he is—closed off, hence the lack of words from your side, but you knew you had to say it. 

That’s the thing, we judge people too quickly, you always had snarky remarks for him, not knowing how deep they cut him. He looked shaken right now, traumatized, especially because you experienced a part of his life which he never wanted to share with anybody. 

“Jeno, you’re doing so well, you know that right?” You whispered, as genuine as possible, your fingers grabbing his own, which made him look up at you finally. 

He was shaken, not from his mother’s words—he was used to them—but from yours. 

“No one’s ever said that,” he spoke so silently, you almost missed it. You held his hand tight—being almost angrier than him while answering his mom back—he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be over that. 

Jeno didn’t realize his eyes were glistening. 

“What?” You breathed out. 

He gulped yet again, jaw clenched now as he struggled to get his words out, the floor being the most interesting thing to him, “defended me. No one’s done that.”

“I—is that why you hate Jaehyun? Because people only see him?” You asked, wincing at the question when you saw him stiffen again, a sharp pang in your chest once he brushed your hand off of his. 

“Don’t. Don’t fucking go there.”

“I didn’t mean—” 

“Oh I fucking know what you mean. Everyone sees him fuck—you see him, because he’s perfect, right? That’s what he is, perfect,” he seethed out, “you don’t know what it’s like—to live in someone’s shadow,” there was a flash of pain in his eyes. 

You stayed mum, letting him speak. 

“Every place, every room, every fucking person just sees him,” he muttered, “I need to better, but it’s never enough, because he already did it—Jaehyun did it better. You look at him the same way as others do, and me? The afterthought—the failure.”

Your heart broke a little, guilt settling in because unknowingly, you fueled the same anger and trauma for him. 

“Jeno,” you mumbled, “you’re not a failure.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’m starting to,” you spoke, and he looked up, “and thank god you’re not Jaehyun,” you chuckled, fingers ghosting near his jaw, your touch featherlight, making him suck in a deep breath. 

“Why?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, eyes hopeful, which scared him. 

“Because you’re real, you don’t fake your emotions. You don’t smile at somebody who you don’t care about, you get angry, messy, you let yourself be shown how you are,” you lip twitched slightly as you said so, your own heartbeat rose at the sentences you so easily uttered, “that’s what makes you a human, Jeno, a human who’s trying his best, which is what matters.”

He blinked. 

He wanted to speak, but he couldn’t, simply leaning into your touch with his eyes closed. 

“You’re you, the stupid jock who’s not scared of anything, yeah?” You tried to make him smile, which helped as you saw his lips curving up. 

Midway through your sentences, you genuinely questioned yourself about why you even like Jaehyun, it was honestly just your mind playing games with you. 

“You scare me,” he muttered. 

“Why?”

“Because you say things so convincingly, it makes me wanna believe you.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Just—don’t say it when you don’t mean it.”

“I do,” you said in a breath, his eyes on yours now, more intense than ever, “I mean every word.”

He stared a little longer, staring at you unamused as if you’d laugh in his face right this second. You didn’t. 

“You’re serious,” he said, voice hoarse. 

You nodded softly. 

Jeno took a single step forward, the air around you so tight, it felt like a rubber band stretched to its max, on the verge of snapping back. 

You inhaled sharply once Jeno’s cold hand brushed the hair on your shoulder, grazing against your bare skin, moving up your nape. 

“Do you have any idea what you just said to me?” He murmured, eyes locked on yours, turning you around easily to pin you against the wall—something he liked to do, apparently. 

“Tell me,” you mumbled. 

If someone told you two days back that you’d be in Jeno’s room, calming him down before getting into a compromising position with him, you would have laughed in their faces. It was reality for you now, something that made you feel so unconventionally flustered. 

The way he brushed his thumb along your jaw, slow and deliberate, made you shiver, “you’re making me forget that i’m supposed to hate this—feeling anything.” 

You were hanging on the last bit of your sanity, drowning in Jeno’s scent, his nose brushing against your cheek, hand gripping your waist, heat radiating off of your body. 

“Jeno—”

“Say it again,” he whispered. 

“Say what?” You breathed. 

“That you’re glad I’m not him.”

You chuckled under his hold, your voice still shaking, “I’m so glad—so fucking glad you’re not him.” 

His breath sounded like a curse, lips hovering a breath above yours, you could feel his hesitation against your skin. He wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch someone as perfect as you, yet you didn’t stop him, the space in between you was so tight, it might as well elicit electricity. 

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, only leaning into his touch, resting your hand over the top of his on your jaw. The touch was faint, yet you could feel it everywhere. 

You held your breath as he leaned in—

Knock. 

Jeno swore under his breath as you flinched, it physically hurt him to step back. 

“Jeno?” Of course, it was Jaehyun who had to interrupt you two. 

Your hands trembled as Jeno moved to the door, and you quickly turned towards the desk, rushing to sit down, pretending that nothing had happened—that you didn’t almost kiss Jeno a few seconds back. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, eyes furious with a hint of daze in them. “Yeah?” His voice came out strained as he asked Jaehyun through the door. 

“Mom wants to talk to you,” He said.

“Be right down,” he answered, shaking his head, staring at your way one last time, holding eye contact for a second, letting you see just how much he hated this situation, veins popping in his neck.

Then he opened the door, closing it behind him and disappearing from your eyesight. 

You stayed there, overwhelmed, lips tingling, pulse racing. 

A truth burned your skin in an excruciating pain. 

If he had kissed you, you wouldn’t have stopped him. 

Chapter 6: I can go from A to Z, but U is what I want. 

Jeno hadn’t texted you all night. 

Not that you waited, except, you did. 

He never came back to the room after Jaehyun called him out, you waited, till you couldn’t anymore and had to rush out before your mind drove you to the edge of insanity. 

So you grabbed your bag, rushing to the first place you thought of—the courtyard behind the Science block. It was calm, no student in sight, thankfully. 

Your five minutes of calm ended a second too quickly, a voice calling out your name in its full glory. You cursed the universe for treating you like this and you didn’t have to turn around to figure out who it was.

Jaemin. 

“I gotta admit, I didn’t peg you to fall for the broken type.” He stepped out smiling as insane as a villain who hasn’t moved on does. 

“Still stalking me?” You rolled your eyes, “get a fucking job.”

“I call it being invested,” he smirked, shoving hands in his pockets, “it’s honestly a downgrade, going from me to Jeno.”

“Not again,” you muttered, grabbing your book which you had just taken out. 

“I mean, trading me for Jeno?” Voice full of pity. 

“As if you were an option, Jaemin,” you turned sharply. 

That shut him up for half a second.

“I just don’t get it,” he said, voice colder now. “He’s always angry, I was angry, I made you feel something, can he say the same?”

Your head was hurting by now, as you mumbled yet another shut up, only to be stopped by Jaemin as he grabbed your arm. 

“What? He’s the angry, tortured type. You’re into hopeless projects now?”

“I’m into honesty,” you snapped, “something you don’t offer.”

“What does he have that I don’t?”

“Self awareness maybe,” a voice came from behind you, low, cold, almost lethal. 

Jeno was here. 

“Let go of her,” he said, dead-eyed, he was ready to snap. 

And Jaemin did, a scoff leaving his mouth before he smirked, “great, speak of the devil.”

Jeno raised his brow, “you done?”

Jaemin chuckled, “not even close.”

You sighed, “of course not,” this day couldn’t get worse. 

“You really think this is love or whatever?” He said, looking at Jeno but his words were directed to you instead, “he’s gonna burn you someday, and you’re gonna let him.” 

Oh god, you were not having any of this, why was this conversation even happening? It made absolutely no sense. 

Jeno moved faster this time, but you blocked his chest with your arms, “enough,” you said sharply. 

“Ask him to leave.” Jeno said, voice low. 

“Jaemin, just leave,” you said, turning to him. 

But he didn’t, and so Jeno did, shoving past you as you rolled your eyes, Jaemin’s sinister smile only widening, getting so close to him, he had to lean back slightly. 

“Don’t test me, and don’t come near her again, or else I won’t be this patient.” Jeno spoke. 

“Aw? You’re gonna hit me in front of her, Jeno?”

“I don’t need to, she already cut you deeper than I ever could.” 

Jaemin blinked, clenching his jaw, before turning to you, maintaining eye contact, “she’s not your girl, Jeno.”

“You don’t know that,” he gritted his teeth. 

“You’ll come back,” Jaemin’s jaw ticked as he said so. 

“Hold your breath until I do,” you replied.

That was it, he left. It wasn’t silent, nor dramatic, but with enough tension to let you know that he will be coming back. 

Once he was gone, you shoved Jeno, hard. 

“The fuck was that?”

“What? I came here trying to find you, only to witness you talking to him.”

“I didn’t want it to happen either, but the world hates me,” you mumbled, grabbing your bag and walking away with Jeno following you behind. 

“I fucking hate that he still gets to talk to you, why does he have access to you?” His voice rose and you prayed no one would hear him, thankfully this area was empty. 

“He doesn’t, and why do you even care?” You asked, with distress clear on your face, “pretending like I mean something to you in front of Jaemin is just as worse, Jeno.” 

“I—”

“No, you won’t even talk about last night, as if it didn’t happen,” you snapped and he froze, “you didn’t even come back to your room.”

His silence was your answer, and you knew this conversation wasn’t gonna go any further, Jeno couldn’t do that—he was scared of opening up, and he was scared of answering those questions, so even though you were hurting on the inside, you let him be. 

“Tomorrow, library, at five. Be on time.” You mumbled, leaving him behind you. 

“Fuck—fuck!” Jeno punched the wall next to him. He didn’t want you to go—the first person who ever tried to understand him, took his side, defended him. He was beyond scared of letting his guard down, so he groaned, sliding down the wall. 

“How do I even tell you I want you?”

Chapter 7: I stayed, even when it was easier to run.

The library was too quiet for how loud your mind was. The sound of your pen dragging across the paper felt almost intrusive as you tried to finish your assignment. 

It had been three nights since the library fiasco. 

Two nights since the almost kiss. 

One night since the blow up with Jaemin.

You almost didn’t wish to come here, yet here you were, with the sample test papers ready, clad in your little black skirt, a cardigan too loose for you, waiting for Jeno to show up—hoping he would. 

The clock ticked. He was a solid nineteen minutes late now, another minute and you’ll get up to leave. That’s when you heard the lazy footsteps approaching your side, the farthest corner of the library. You expected him to sit in front of you, yet he opted to sit right next to you, so close you could feel the fabric of his jeans brushing against your thigh. He took a seat without permission, like he had the right to be, like nothing had happened. 

He came in like guilt personified, shoulders hunched, hoodie loose, hair an unbrushed mess of indecision. And when he saw you?

He hesitated.

You didn’t look up, simply sliding him the sheet of questions to solve, the air around you turned weighted. His pen scratched, your leg bounced, you sipped water and he watched the corner of your mouth, practically burning holes into you. 

It was unbearable. 

This tension—it’s not a war but there’s rarely ever any peace. Catherine and Heathcliff reincarnated, except you weren’t on a moor, you were in a library, trying not to fall apart across the wooden study table. 

Just yesterday, he burned through Jaemin like jealousy was oxygen. 

He couldn’t stop staring, yet he solved the questions for forty minutes, sliding the sheet back to you for checking, expecting some sort of conversation now, anything, even a little hum of acknowledgement from your side, but none of it happened. 

He watched you scribble your pen over the margin, circling a few things, ticking the others, lip bitten in concentration. He observed you so intensely, how your eyes flicked across his answer sheet, but you didn’t look his way, not even once. 

“You won’t even talk to me now?” He asked, keeping his voice in check. 

“Four answers wrong, you did pretty well, can do better still,” you mumbled, passing him the paper. 

“Y/N,” he sighed, tired, he was afraid of this happening—letting you down, and that’s exactly what he did. Running away from his problems was what Jeno always did, he wasn’t perfect, he knows it, but he wants to try and be better, better for you. 

“You came late,” you said, still not looking up. 

“I didn’t sleep last night,” he exhaled, jaw clenched. 

“Not my problem,” you retorted. 

“I was thinking.”

“You should study instead.”

“You hate me now, huh?” Jeno leaned forward, voice flat. 

You blinked. The question hit out of nowhere.

“I don’t hate you,” you replied carefully. “But I don’t know how to deal with you either.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No, Jeno. It’s the truth. And that’s more than you’ve been giving me.”

He looked at you then, really looked—eyes narrowed, jaw tight, like he was keeping a war behind his teeth. His eyes were empty, yet so full of you. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said, quietly. “I don’t know how to be—good at this, with you.”

“And yet you’re good at disappearing. You’re good at leaving me hanging like none of it mattered.”

You weren’t yelling. You didn’t need to. Your disappointment was louder than any raised voice.

Jeno sat back in his chair, breathing shallow. “You kissed me back.”

Your throat tightened, “you didn’t kiss me at all.”

“Exactly,” he muttered. “Because I would’ve ruined it. Ruined you.”

You shook your head slowly. “No, Jeno. You didn’t kiss me because you’re scared of how much you want to.”

His hands balled into fists. “And you’re not?”

“We’re not talking about me.” You looked away. 

He scoffed, turning to look at you fully, leaning in with his hand now resting on your thigh, burning the skin with his touch. 

“You want honesty, huh? So here it is—I’ve been thinking about you, about everything that’s happened in the past few days, no one’s ever messed with my mind so much and it fucking scares me. You’re messing me up—”

You couldn’t hear more, not when he was so close, not when he poured his heart out to you. Nothing about you two was normal, even your heartbeat was synced with how abnormally high they were. 

“Shh,” you mumbled, covering his mouth with your palm, and even the rude gesture calmed him down—your touch calmed him down. 

“You have an exam tomorrow.” You said and he stared, “study, pass the exam, and we’ll talk, yeah?”

He blinked, almost as if you showed him mercy, and gave him a chance to do something, to prove that he’s worthy of being near you. His scholarship, football, future—everything was at stake, but did he care? No. He cared about not letting you down. He wanted to prove himself to you. 

“You—you promise?” He asked, gripping the extra sheets and notes you passed his way.

You nodded, eyes softer now. You didn’t wanna hurt Jeno, you could see just how hard he tried to fight with his demons, but this time, you wanted him to win.

“I’ll be waiting.” 

You turned to leave then, leaving Jeno with his thoughts as he watched you leave, eyes on your legs. He gulped, looking back to the paper to find a line scribbled in your handwriting. 

You already know the answer, you’re just afraid of getting it wrong. 

It wasn’t about the question, it was about him. 

He just wanted to be worthy enough to stand in front of you and say I didn’t fuck this up this time. So he started, he worked all night, solved as many sample problems as he could, everything felt like a punch in the gut but he couldn’t give up, not this time. 

Jeno couldn’t sleep at night, 

I’ll be waiting. 

That’s what you told him, and he was looking forward to it, because for the very first time in his life, someone wasn’t waiting for him to fail. 

He woke up before his alarm had the chance to ring, didn’t care about his mother’s remark on how he woke up on time for once, or how Jaehyun gave him a long, unreadable look. Jeno didn’t react, he had bigger problems to tackle today. 

You were just as restless as him if not more, checking your phone every few minutes as if you’d get any text from Jeno. He must be busy studying, you hope that was the case. 

He walked into the exam hall calm, focused, terrified. He didn’t skip questions. He didn’t zone out.

He solved the final problem two minutes before time and rechecked every line like his life was hidden in the margins.

When he walked out of that room, his shirt clinging to the back of his neck from sweat, his palms aching from gripping the pen too hard—he knew. He’d done it. Or at least, he hoped he did. 

Yet, he didn’t text you, he wouldn’t until he got the results. 

Chapter 8: Jealousy is but a red thread around my throat. 

You waited, not loud, but silently. 

Two whole days, you held your breath, even planned on visiting the football practice to just get a glimpse of Jeno, yet you couldn’t muster enough courage to do so. God, you were so affected by everything he did, and this felt so very suffocating, waiting on someone. You knew what you felt, there was no point in denying it, however, you couldn’t figure out how it happened, so quickly at that. 

Heck, even Jaemin was more present in your chat inbox, even though you never replied to him, it just made you wonder if your time with Jeno was just a hoax. 

Did you imagine it all? 

On the other hand, on the other side of the city, sitting in a dim room with sunlight pouring in, Jeno was drowning in darkness. 

The exam portal was open in front of him, he refreshed the page every two seconds, not being able to sit still. His hands were shaking, not from fear but from want.  From the feeling of your voice telling him that you’ll talk to him once he proves himself. 

He gave up the wait, the result wasn’t out the whole day. It was three in the morning when the notification woke him up like a jolt. 

Results were out. 

He rushed to check it, the numbers stunning him as his jaw hung open. 

83%

Not perfect. But more than enough.

Enough to pass. Enough to stay on the team.

Enough to say, Look. I did it. I’m not a fuck-up. The first thing he thought of was you. So he typed—just two words.

Jeno: I passed.

Because he didn’t know how to say what he really wanted to—I passed, and all I could think about was your voice. I passed, and I still don’t feel whole unless you tell me you’re proud. I passed, and it’s not enough if I can’t show you.

Your reply came back six minutes later.

You: I knew you would. 

It was soft, gentle. But was it enough for Jeno? No. It should’ve been enough, but it wasn’t. 

He didn’t reply, he didn’t text you again. He opted to skip the lectures for the day and stay in his room, blinds closed, only darkness consuming him. 

You knew it was hard for Jeno, you knew you shouldn’t wait for his reply or him approaching you—he was too scared to do that, which is exactly why you grabbed your bag and went to his place the first thing in the morning. Maybe Jeno needed time, but you had to check. 

You rang the bell, your heart pounding as you did so, expecting Jeno to open up and see you. Once the door opened, your pulse stuttered. 

Jaehyun. 

Of course, it had to be him. 

“Y/N,” he said your name smoothly, “didn’t know you were coming by.”

You hesitated with a small chuckle, exhaling the breath you were holding, “is Jeno home?” 

He nodded, stepping aside to let you in, “yeah, he’s in his room, didn’t come out this morning at all.”

“Oh,” you said softly, wondering if he was alright. 

There was a pause, an awkward silence after that, you felt heavy, wanting to go upstairs but you weren’t sure if you were allowed to. 

Jaehyun closed the door behind you. “He’s been off since the results,” he said, voice low. “I thought passing would help, but I don’t know. He kind of shut down again after telling us he passed.”

You gulped, chest tightened at the revelation. 

“I came to check up on him, I’m not sure if he wants to meet though.”

“He’d want to see you.” Jaehyun said, smiling sincerely, “you’re good for him.”

Your eyes widened at that, “I’m not sure he thinks that.” You tried to smile, “can I go to his room?”

“He locked the door, I think he’s sleeping,” Jaehyun said apologetically. 

“I don’t wanna bother him.” You smiled sadly, “those are good pictures,” you mumbled, looking at the wall full of frames, particularly the ones with Jeno in them.

“Yeah, I took most of those,” Jaehyun replied with another smile, he knew you wanted to talk to Jeno so he suggested something, “Maybe if you take him something to eat? I can give the breakfast he skipped—”

“Oh no, I can run to the bakery and get something—”

Then you noticed a movement in your peripheral vision, you turned around to find Jeno. He was standing down the hall, his fluffy hair a mess, eyes wide as if he didn’t expect you to be here—especially with Jaehyun. 

“Hey,” you breathed out. 

No reply. 

“Y—you didn’t reply, I came to see you,” you tried speaking again. 

However, his expression didn’t change and suddenly, you felt like you shouldn’t have come here at all. He was frozen even when you said you wanted to make sure he was okay. Then he came back to his senses, clearing his throat. 

Jaehyun left the room, letting you two be alone. 

“Why didn’t you ask for me?” He whispered, just sadness in his voice. 

“I did, that’s what I came for,” you tried to explain.

Jeno stared at you, he was so broken inside he couldn’t let himself believe it. You dressed up, all pretty, your eyes so soft, your lips turning into a pout of disappointment. You looked perfect, and you came here for Jeno? He just could not believe it. 

“You were talking to him,” Jeno said, referring to Jaehyun, his voice broken. 

“He opened the door, what can I do?” You shook your head, trying to explain, “you didn’t even text back, Jeno.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he replied, “I’ve never done this before. I’ve never had someone wait for me and mean it.”

Your lips parted to reply but he wasn’t done. 

“You said you’d talk to me after the exam,” he went on, voice sharper now, “but when you showed up, you let him open the door. You let him tell you how I was.”

“I didn’t—” your voice faltered, “I didn’t come for him.”

“Didn’t look that way.”

That hurt. You flinched. “Jeno, why are you doing this?” 

“Because I waited for you,” he snapped. “I sat in that room like a fucking idiot thinking you’d come to see me. Not make small talk with my brother or compliment his photography.”

“You heard that?” You froze, it wasn’t your intention to do any of that. 

“I heard everything, every second you spent without taking my name,” he said. 

Just like that—he hurt you. Every conversation was about Jeno, every single one. He just couldn’t see it. 

“I thought I was getting better,” he admitted, quieter now. “I thought passing the exam would mean something. That it would be enough.”

“It was,” you whispered. “Jeno, it is. I am proud of you.”

“Then why didn’t it feel like it?” His voice broke on that line. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a step away, then back, like his own body was a prison.

You stood frozen. Every word hit somewhere different.

“I wanted you to come,” he said, softer now. “Not to check in. Not to ask if I’d eaten. I wanted you to come for me. Just for me. You don’t get it, Y/N.”

“No,” you stepped forward. “You don’t get it. You think everything is about being chosen or abandoned. But not everyone’s trying to leave you, Jeno. Sometimes people show up. But you keep slamming the door in their face.”

He turned away. “Then go.”

“I came for you.” You said one last time, your eyes watering, not being able to contain the hurt you held in them. 

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have.”

That one landed like a punch.

Your mouth opened. Then closed. You nodded. Just once.

“Fine.”

You turned.

And you left.

And this time, he didn’t stop you.

Chapter 9: I know that I’m hard to read, but you got me here to stay 

You spent most of your morning crying alone in your student council room, but it just wasn’t enough, not when you were being wronged every second of the day, not when the person you wanted kept running away from you no matter how hard you tried. At least you did. 

You couldn’t run away though, you had an important meeting with your council at six in the evening, by that time, you had done everything to make yourself look normal again, but your mind was entirely elsewhere, in another realm, a realm where things were different. 

Jeno, on the other hand, left his room as soon as he realized how wrong everything had gone. All afternoon his own words replayed in his mind, how he asked you to leave and how you left a single tear drop on the floor before you turned around and left. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have.

It felt like biting into something rotten, saying that out loud to you. Like watching the one and the only thing he wanted turn and walk away. You didn’t yell back, you didn’t beg, you went still, and left. He saw you leave—he made you leave. 

And he let you go anyway. Because that’s what he did. Because pushing people away was easier than asking them to stay.

Until now.

Now he was pacing in his room like a caged animal, hoodie still damp, heart in his throat. He kept hearing your voice in the hallway. Kept seeing your face. Kept remembering the way you reached for him and he didn’t reach back.

His chest felt tight, his limbs tense. He couldn’t stay here, not in this house, not knowing you might never come back.

He had to find you.

So he ran. He ran to the courtyard, not caring about the rain pour, soaking him up from head to toe. You weren’t in the library, not in the council room, the classrooms were empty. He was panicking. 

That’s when he heard a voice, turning around the corner of the athletic department, he walked straight into one of his football teammates he couldn’t stand at all—Minjae, a loud-mouthed asshole, smiling like a madman. 

“Fucking hell, Lee Jeno, you look like shit.” He grinned. 

Jeno didn’t answer, he was in a hurry, he had to find you, to make things right with you, he was about to push past Minjae when—

“Oh, by the way,” he smirked, “Jaemin told us a lot about how you finally landed his ex, the pretty goody two shoes, Y/N.”

Jeno froze, jaw clenched at the mention of you and Jaemin in the same sentence, coming from an asshole at that. 

“Didn’t think you’d have a go at someone like her. She seems to like guys who have more brains than biceps.” He laughed at his own joke. 

“The fuck did you just say?” 

Minjae laughed. “Chill, man. I’m just saying—props to you, seriously. Girl like that? All polished and pretty and loyal? I mean, not that it’ll last. Girls like that don’t stay with guys like us. She’ll figure it out eventually.”

Jeno’s vision turned black.

“Say that again,” he said, voice like static.

Minjae raised his hands. “Relax. You don’t need to get all—”

The punch landed before he could finish.

Minjae hit the ground hard, water splashing up from the impact, the rain pouring down heavier now. He tried to shove Jeno back, but to no avail as he bent down, his fist colliding with Minjae’s jaw again.  

Jeno wasn’t fighting Minjae per se, he was fighting every single voice that told him he wasn’t enough, that he could never live up to his brother, that he could never be with someone as perfect as you. That’s what he believed too, till you actually became real for him. 

His mind was elsewhere when he took a blow to his jaw, lip bleeding now, Jeno stumbled but scoffed before punching him again, and again, till his knuckles were shredded, a throbbing in his jaw which almost felt like fire. 

It was only when someone pulled him off of Minjae, Jeno stopped, spitting out blood in the rain slick grass. Everything hurt, but not as much as his burning chest. 

“Are you insane?” Someone yelled his way, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jeno didn’t bother answering, pulling out his phone and rushing away, typing out texts to you. 

Jeno: where are you? please say something i’m so fucking sorry Y/N i didn’t mean it  i didn’t mean any of it i swear Y/N please 

No response. His messages were just there, unread, and unanswered. He simply didn’t know why. 

He didn’t know how you had been in the private meeting room for the past hour, student council prep being a whole scheduling disaster, handling arguments about clubs and their out-of-the-worldly budget demands. 

You were half awake at best, distracted by the storm that brewed outside. Your phone vibrates once, then again, and when you finally pull it out to check the numerous missed calls—your screen goes dark. Perfect, just on the day you didn’t bring your charger or powerbank. 

The feeling in your gut—it wasn’t good, which is why you excused yourself mid meeting, something you never do, to rush back home. You were soaked as you ran to your apartment, close to the University, thankfully. You plugged your phone in to charge as you rushed to take a shower, hoping the hot water would soothe your nerves. It didn’t. 

You kept thinking about Jeno, about the fight at his place earlier, how he asked you to leave with the saddest look in his eyes, and how badly it hurt you. You were out of the shower in fifteen minutes, toweling your hair with one hand and rushing to check your phone with the other, not expecting a myriad of notifications. 

17 Missed calls. 

6 Voicemails. 

26 Unread texts. 

The last of which made your blood run cold. 

Jeno: Y/N please  i’m outside 

You rushed to the front door, and he was there—leaning against the wall beside your entrance, hoodie clinging to him, hair wet and plastered to his forehead, eyes closed and him wincing like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Like it hurts too much to exist. Hands bruised, lip split, and he opened his eyes—bloodshot, glassy. 

“Jeno,” you gasped out loud, “w—what happened?” You said, going close to him. 

“I tried to find you,” he said, voice wrecked, “I tried but I couldn’t, I thought that maybe you blocked me.”

“No—I was in a meeting and my phone died, god I’m so sorry—fuck, come inside.” You shook your head in distress.

“Y/N,” he groaned, and you gently helped him when he didn’t move, like he wasn’t allowed to, “I fucked up.”

“Shh, come inside, it’s cold,” you whispered and he nodded after a moment of hesitation. You tried to be calm, you tried to take control of the situation for once and he listened, this time he did when you took him to your room. 

You didn’t ask how this happened to him, only guiding him to the bathroom, “you’re soaked and bleeding, take a shower, i’ll put your clothes in the wash and dryer.”

He opened his mouth to say otherwise, but you didn’t let him, grabbing a fresh towel and handing it to him. 

“Are you sure you want me here?” He asked, vulnerable. 

“I wouldn’t have opened the door otherwise, Jeno, I do.”

He nodded, swallowing hard as he disappeared into the bathroom without another word and you worked your washing machine and dryer, sitting down right after, exhaling and letting your guard down, hands shaking with worry. 

You were glad Jeno was taking his sweet time inside, because you had no clue how to go on with this situation. Jeno stalling coming out simply because he was ashamed, also consumed in how good your shampoo smells. He was at your place, in your bathroom, all bloodied up, why? Because he couldn’t be normal for once and let you in. 

His walls came crashing down each time you came closer to him, but this time, he didn’t want them to go back up the second he touched you, this time, he wanted you inside with him. 

His clothes were dry very soon and you kept them in your room, waiting outside by the sofa, letting him come out all dressed up. The water stopped soon, the door creaking as he came out, and you were sitting on the sofa, hair still wet. 

Then Jeno opened the door, you stood up at the noise, and he looked your way in a silent plea to ask you if he could sit next to you, and you nodded. He held up the bloodied towel, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and you smiled softly, taking it away from him. 

The silence was too loud after as you both sat next to each other, you waited for him to say something, waited for the reality of tonight to settle in—to make sense, to stop trembling beneath your skin. And then he spoke as you took out your medicine kit, gently grabbing his hand to take a look at his bruised knuckles. 

“Y/N,” he took your name as if it was the only thing he knew. 

He watched you kneel in front of him, your eyes not angry, just steady, quiet, and unbearably kind. His fingers trembled in yours, you gently pulled the sleeve back, pressing a warm damp cloth to the wounds, making him wince slightly at the contact. 

“Sorry,” you breathed out. 

“I deserve worse,” he breathed back. 

“No, you don’t,” you said, looking up at him. 

He laughed under his breath, “why are you so kind to me? I don’t deserve it, Y/N.”

“You don’t get to decide what I give you, Jeno,” you replied, “you’re bleeding, again.”

“Not my first time.”

You gripped him tighter, “and that’s supposed to make it better?”

“No,” he said, voice low, “just means I’m good at it by now.”

You didn’t answer. Just ripped the antiseptic packet open a little more forcefully than necessary and pressed it to the bruised line of his knuckles. He flinched.

“Good,” you muttered. “Means you still feel something.”

“God, Y/N—”

“No,” you snapped, trying your best to act normal but you both were far from that, “not yet.”

You cleaned the split in his skin with the kind of precision that only comes from anger—controlled, careful, but deeply furious.

“You don’t get to act like none of this mattered,” you said, eyes locked on his wounds. “You don’t get to disappear into your guilt and then show up bleeding and say I didn’t know where else to go. That’s not enough.”

His jaw clenched. “I didn’t come for a reward.”

“Good,” you said coldly. “Because you’re not getting one.” You wrapped gauze around his hand slowly, tight enough that it would sting.

He didn’t pull away.

“I came because I thought I’d lose you,” he said through his teeth, “I came because I’m fucking terrified that I already did.”

“Who’s fault is that?” You said, standing up, “you keep doing this thing, you pull me in, let me see you and then the very second it gets real, you shut the door in my face.”

“I know,” he said. Loud. Frustrated. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see the way you look at me when I say the wrong thing? Like you’re trying so fucking hard not to walk away?”

“You told me to go!”

“I didn’t mean it!”

“Then don’t say it!” You shouted, “don’t look at me like I’m everything one second and then act like I mean nothing the next!”

“I didn’t think you’d stay.”

“I stayed!”

You were both breathing hard now. Staring at each other like you didn’t know whether to cry or kiss or throw something, You still stood in between Jeno’s legs, him looking up at you.  Jeno ran a hand through his damp hair, pacing a few feet before turning back to you, eyes wide and glassy.

“I ruin things,” he said, “I always have. I don’t know how to love something without fucking it up. But I wanted you anyway—I still do.”

Your throat tightened. “And I’m supposed to what? Carry all of that? Be your exception?”

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I just need you to see that I’m trying. Even if it’s ugly. Even if I’m bleeding and loud and afraid. I need you to see me, and stay anyway.”

You stared at him.

He looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days. Someone who’d gone through hell and walked straight into another fire because you were at the center of it.

Your voice cracked, “you don’t make it easy.”

“I know.”

You looked down at your hands—his blood still faintly on your fingertips. He reached out slowly. You didn’t move. Not when his fingers curled around your wrist. Not when he pulled you in his lap, not when his forehead leaned into yours like he was holding on for dear life.

“I hate that I hurt you,” he whispered. “But I’d rather burn with you than freeze without you.”

“I wasn’t gonna leave, Jeno.”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because I’m sick,” he said suddenly. “Sick of being the one who’s always too much. Too angry. Too wrong. I get one thing right—one fucking exam—and even then I screw it up by throwing a punch at someone who talks shit about you and then picking a fight with the only person who’s ever actually looked at me like I could be more.”

Your breath hitched. You grabbed the gauze, wrapped it around his hand. Tighter than needed.

“Then be more, Jeno.”

He stared at you.

“Be more,” you repeated, “because I’m tired of being in love with someone who’s so determined to hate himself.”

That silenced him. Fully. Until he spoke again.

“You’re in love with me?”

The words dropped like a bomb between you.

You froze. Swallowed. Refused to take it back, chuckling to yourself at how easily you let go and told him that, “yeah—god help me, I am.”

Then you tried to move back, only his arms wrapped around your waist tighter, holding you in place, “you don’t get to say that and walk away.” He growled. 

“Who said I’m walking away?” You mumbled, holding onto his shoulder for support. 

It was unreal, how close you guys were but still not close enough, it was never enough. 

“You’re mad at me,” Jeno stated. 

“I should be mad.” 

“I’m mad too,” he added. 

“Good,” you rolled your eyes, trying to move again.

But he didn’t let you, not this time, his thumb brushing your cheek. 

That was it. That was when Jeno finally let go. He couldn’t delay this anymore, not again, not when you were right in front of him, not when your soft lips brushed so tenderly against his bruised ones, not when you told him you were in love with him—not when he knew he had to have you. 

He surged up and into you—hands gripping your face, mouth pressing against yours like it was the only way to breathe. It wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t neat, it was everything you’d been holding back.

Lips slotted together, you could taste blood on your tongue from where he was hurt before, which only made you groan into the kiss, he was frustrated, so frustrated, not having it in him to let go for even a second. 

You gasped, arms flying up to clutch at his shoulders, pressed chest-to-chest, his body was warm—too warm—and you could feel his tension in every line.

You broke the kiss first, panting, eyes wide. “You shouldn’t—” you tried to say, especially when his body was hurting. 

“I have to,” he breathed, leaning in again. “Let me, just once. Please.”

You didn’t stop him, grabbing his nape and pulling him into you once again, because when Jeno kissed you again, it felt like pain, penance, and pleasure all in one. It was as if he was trying to earn your forgiveness with his mouth, trying to pour out everything he couldn’t say to you, groaning into your mouth when your hips shifted over his lap. 

“I fucking—” He said midway the kiss, “god I—”

You shushed him gently, “you don’t have to say it.”

“I love you,” he breathed out, forehead pressed against yours, eyes earnest and full of life for the first time since you saw him, “I don’t care if it’s too early, I can’t fucking not say it, I love you, I—”

Before he could ruin the moment with the spiral in his throat, before he could pull back in fear, you pressed your lips against his like it was the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

He responded like he’d been starving. Mouth hot, desperate, hands gripping your waist like the world was falling apart and he only had seconds left to memorize you. The kiss was brutal in the way it made you feel, there was no choreography to it, no elegance—just lips, teeth, breath, and aching hunger.

His mouth was swollen. Your lips, bruised from how much he kissed you like he didn’t know how to stop.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed.

You stared at him. “I don’t want you to.”

Then you grabbed his jaw once you heard him wince, “does it hurt?” You asked, pecking his jaw, trailing kisses all over. 

“It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt,” he whispered, letting your lips take over, tracing every bit of his face and neck, his eyes closing with the fire that you ignited within him. 

“This feels like a dream,” he whispered.

“It’s not.”

“But it could be,” he added, almost to himself. “You—like this, in my lap, in your apartment, touching me like I’m not a monster.”

You cupped his face again, guiding his eyes to yours, “you’re not a monster, Jeno.”

“You don’t know the things I’ve thought.”

“Then tell me.”

His voice cracked, “I thought I’d die if I didn’t see you again. I thought that maybe I’m already ruined and maybe I don’t deserve you but I can’t stop loving you anyway. I thought—”

You kissed him again. Slow this time. Deep and aching, “then stop thinking,” you whispered, “just be here—with me.”

His fingers trembled as they curled into the hem of your shirt.

“Can I?”

You nodded.

He pulled the fabric up carefully, reverently, and you helped him, raising your arms until it was off. His breath hitched. Not because of how you looked—but because he was looking at you like that.

Like something sacred.

You grabbed the back of his hoodie, tugging. He hesitated for a split second before pulling it over his head. The sight made your breath catch.

His torso was littered with bruises, some dark purple, some fading yellow. His ribcage dipped where the muscle was taut with tension. You reached out, fingertips grazing over a particularly harsh mark near his side.

He flinched. “That one’s from earlier.”

Your jaw clenched, “you shouldn’t fight because of me.”

“I wasn’t,” he said, “I was fighting every voice in my head that said I wasn’t worth your love.”

You kissed the bruise.

He gasped.

“I hate that they ever made you feel like that.”

His hands slid back up to your sides, lips brushing your jaw. “You make it go quiet.”

“I want to,” you whispered.

Your kisses grew slow again, heavier with emotion than desire. You could feel his heartbeat where your chest pressed into his, your hands in his hair, his head tilted just enough to deepen the kiss. You rolled your hips slightly in his lap, and he groaned again, burying his face in your neck.

“Fuck, Y/N—”

“Jeno,” you murmured, your nails dragging softly along his back, “look at me.”

He lifted his head. His eyes—wild, glassy, full of everything he couldn’t say.

“I love you,” you said again. “I’m not afraid of it. So don’t be either.”

He leaned forward, pressing your foreheads together. 

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“You’re so fucking pretty, did I ever tell you that?” He mumbled against the skin of your neck, brushing his lips all over before placing open mouthed kisses over the expanse of your clavicle, “so fucking pretty.”

Jeno wasn’t gentle anymore, not when he’d been craving your presence, craving you. He couldn’t help but treat you like a reward, like he finally had won the only thing in life that actually mattered to him. 

He was quick to grab your waist and flip you over, getting on top of you on the couch that was too small for things he had planned in his mind. It was almost like a dam breaking the way his mouth was on your neck, biting, sucking, claiming you. 

“Jeno—” you mumbled, your back arching as you felt his body pressing into you, fingers wrapped around his wet locks as he marked your skin with every ounce of desperation he had, his fingers mapping out every inch of your body as if he’s afraid he’d forget it—as if he could ever forget anything about you. 

The warmth of his hands brushed over your bra clad nipples, a whimper leaving your mouth. Jeno wasn’t undressed yet you could feel him getting hard, and god you wondered just how big he was, grinding into you as if he was already inside your cunt. 

“I hurt you so fucking much,” Jeno mumbled, lips ghosting over your tit, “now I’ll hurt you in the way you want me to,” he said with dark eyes, yanking your bra down enough for your nipples to show, latching his mouth to you all in light speed. 

All his life Jeno couldn’t take control of anything, but seeing you shiver under him just made sense to Jeno, he had to take control—he had to make you feel so good, you wouldn’t ever look at anyone else. 

“You’re fucking crazy,” you whispered, already disheveled with how needy you were, wetness pooling in your panties, soiling the new pair you had put on not too long ago. 

“Yeah? You drive me crazy, baby,” he chuckled, and that sound went straight to your pussy. Jeno was hot, so fucking hot, but him using nicknames on you with his deep tone—only god knows how you would survive this. 

You bit your lip to conceal your moans, which only infuriated Jeno, biting your nipple harshly to make sure you scream, “don’t fucking hide your pretty voice,” he said. 

His hands went to your other breast and he gave it a tight squeeze, your eyes were on him as you watched his lips parting, letting his tongue make contact with the tip of your very hardened nub. He bites down on your nipple, making you cry out, but quickly soothes it with his tongue before switching to the other side, he wants to drive you wild with pleasure, to possess every inch of your body.

Lost in the haze of pleasure, you surrender yourself completely to Jeno’s possessive touches, letting him have his way with you. The room fills with the sounds of your moans and his desperate sucking, a symphony of carnal desire. In this moment, there is nothing but you and Jeno, and the burning hunger that consumes you both. 

Jeno’s hands roam across your body, his touch electric against your skin. He grabs your hips, pulling you flush against him as he claims your lips in yet another searing kiss, tongue delving into your mouth, hot and hungry, making you more hungry for his touch—for him. 

“I—can’t,” you whimpered, wanting more of him. 

Jeno chuckled, “can’t even speak now, hm? What happened to the feisty lil’ girl who couldn’t shut up?” 

“Fuck, shut up,” you mumbled, tugging on his hair harder, which only made him groan and squeeze your tits harder, coming up to brush his lips against yours, hot breaths intertwining as he smirks, hand travelling down your body, very close to the hem of your shorts. 

“Want me to shut up?” He asked, squeezing your neck with slight pressure, your mouth opening in a gasp—he took the opportunity to spit in your mouth, watching your eyes widen as watches you gulp it down, “good fucking girl,” he mumbles. 

You were too gone to function anymore and you had just started, but you knew one thing—whatever Jeno wanted, you’d let him do it to you. 

That man was no less than a Greek god with how sharp his features looked, especially in the dim light of the room, muscles flexing, abs on full display as he held himself up on top of you to press kisses all over. 

In a swift second, he pulled you up to unclasp your bra, throwing it away somewhere to continue pressing hot mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts, and down your tummy, caressing it with the pad of his thumb, spending a good few seconds covering the expanse of your skin. 

You breathed harder once he reached the waistband of your shorts, his hooded eyes, almost drunk, looking up at you before he swiftly pulled them down, throwing them on the floor somewhere.

He couldn’t be gentle even if he tried, not when he was this thirsty, holding your legs open as he settled in the limited space that the couch held for him. Madman—that’s what he was and you couldn’t help but moan when he got closer to your panty clad cunt, burying his nose in the wet fabric, sniffing the scent of your arousal, groaning as he locked your thighs under his arms, which flexed harder now. 

You moaned his name as if a broken record repeating the same thing over and over again and he only mumbled things you couldn’t hear in your cunt, licking the already wet cloth, biting his lip at the first taste of you, “fuck—you’re so fucking perfect,” he says licking you harder, kissing your inner thighs alongside, leaving bites all over—he was feral. 

He slid your panties to the side, and the sight he had in front of him drove him to the edge. Jeno was an impatient man, yes, he was messy, he was not the softest, but seeing you like this just made him realize how much crazier he could be. 

That first taste emboldens him and he dives in like a man starved, lapping at your folds like he’s trying to consume you entirely. 

His desperate tongue delves deep inside, fucking you with rapid strokes and curling to hit your sweet spot. You cry out sharply at the intense sensation, fingers tangling in his tousled raven hair to hold him in place. He grips your thighs tightly, holding you down and open for his onslaught as he devours you. 

Jeno zeroes in on your clit, flicking and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves rapidly. Your back arches off the couch as he suckles hard on the throbbing bud, two fingers pumping inside your clenching hole.

“Fuck—Jeno, I’m gonna cum!” You wail, thighs trembling violently around his head as your climax approaches rapidly. He doubles his efforts, fucking you harder with his fingers and lashing your clit mercilessly with his tongue.

He curls his fingers to stroke your G-spot with every thrust, drawing out more of your copious arousal to lap up greedily. Your walls start to flutter and clench around him as the pressure builds unbearably.

 Jeno chuckled, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. “You like that, baby?” He practically purred, before sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. 

“Fuck—yes,” you gasped, your head falling back against the couch. Jeno was relentless, his tongue exploring every inch of you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, your thighs trembling as you stared at the ceiling with your mouth open, desperate for air. 

Jeno pulled back for a moment, looking up at you with a wicked grin, “you want more, kitten?” He teased, running a finger along your slit, “go on then, beg for it.”

You groaned in frustration, but you were too far gone to care, “please, Jeno,” you begged, fueling his ego. 

“Shhh, be a good lil’ kitten for me, yeah?” He mumbled into your core mindlessly, sending shivers up your spine as your thighs shake. He didn’t stop, but just when your ecstasy was about to crash—

He stopped. 

You let out a frustrated groan and Jeno only got up with the essence of you sprawled over his chin, his hard on begging to be freed. 

“Fuck?” You asked, trying to get up on your elbows, looking at him incredulously. 

He only gave you a once over, tongue poking his cheek from inside before he came closer, swooping you up in his arms easily as you yelped, eyes wide as he carried you to the bedroom, “no patience, huh?” He asked. 

He was proud of himself for making you this weak, for cracking your high wall down so he could see you, so he could ruin you. Jeno was possessive, especially after knowing what you and Jaemin went through, he wanted you to have the best, and he was willing to be the best for you. 

“I—I was gonna cum!” You said, holding on to him for support.

“Did I say you could?” He replied smoothly. 

“What—Jeno what the fuck?” You whined and he only chuckled.

“Be patient, love, or else you won’t be coming all fucking night, yeah?” He said as he let you get down on the bed. 

You looked so innocent, eyes watery, hair messy, looking up at him like an angry little kitten trying to look tough. He climbed the bed and you moved back, till your back hit the headboard and he hovered above you, caressing your cheek as he cupped your jaw, tilting your head up to look him in his eye. Your heartbeat speeding up yet again, and good lord you loved being manhandled by Jeno. 

“What are you thinking?” He asked, thumb pushing on your lower lip. 

“Nothing.” You mumbled. 

He leaned in closer, “not thinking of my cock inside your pretty little cunt, hm?” He asks, watching you shiver at the thought, “by the time I'm done with you, you’ll be begging me to let you cum.”

Your jaw clenched as you slide your hand up Jeno’s torso, tracing all the way from his abs to his neck, his own body reacting to your touch, cock twitching inside his pants by the time your hand rested on his nape, pulling him even closer so your noses were touching. 

“You know, Jeno, you talk big game. Don’t make promises you can’t back up,” you mumbled to rile him up. 

Jeno’s eyes flashed with a mixture of lust and irritation at your challenge, “oh, you’re going to regret those words,” he whispered, his hands gripping your hips possessively. “I’m going to make you beg for my cock, baby.”

He punctuated his statement with a sharp thrust of his fingers, two of them plunging deep into your sopping wet pussy. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he worked them in and out, stroking along your sensitive walls.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he panted, his thumb rubbing firm circles on your clit. “I can’t wait to feel this perfect little cunt wrapped around my cock.”

You moaned, your hips rolling to meet his hand as he fucked you with his fingers. “Then stop talking and do something about it,” you shot back, your voice breathy with desire.

Jeno chuckled darkly, withdrawing his fingers only to bring them to his mouth. He sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving yours as he savored your taste. “Mmh—delicious,” he purred, “but I’m not done playing with you yet.”

Before you could protest, he was pushing your thighs apart and settling between them. His tongue delved into your folds, lapping at your arousal like a man starved. You cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he devoured your pussy with single-minded intensity.

He worked you over mercilessly, his tongue and lips and teeth finding all the right spots to drive you wild. You bucked against his face, your thighs trembling as the pleasure built inside you. Just when you thought you might burst, Jeno would back off, leaving you desperate and aching for release.

“Jeno, please,” you whimpered, tugging on his hair in a futile attempt to guide him back to where you needed him most, “I need to cum. Please let me cum.”

He lifted his head, his chin glistening as he looked up at you. “Not yet,” he shook his head, his fingers continuing their maddeningly slow circles on your clit, “I want to hear you scream first.”

“I fucking can’t!” You breathed out, trying to control your moans again, “someone’s gonna hear and—ah—complain about it,” you said, which only made him scoff. 

“Is that it, hm? Have it your way then, princess,” he mumbled, yanking your soiled panties down all the way, balling it up in his first to make a gag out of it and shoving it down your mouth, “now you can scream all your want, Y/N.” He said, taking your name in his deep voice. 

And if you weren’t crazy before, now you had reached your limit of madness, even a poke from his side was like a pleasant burning wound to your skin, his actions also made you realize just how hungry Jeno was for being the one in control. 

You squirmed beneath Jeno, feeling utterly at his mercy as he continued his torturous teasing. The gag in your mouth muffled your moans but couldn’t silence them completely, much to Jeno’s enjoyment. Your body arched, yearning for more, desperate for release.

“Such a needy lil’ thing, aren’t you?” Jeno growled, his fingers still circling your sensitive bud, “I can feel how wet you are, taste how wet you are, dripping for me, hm?”

His words made you clench, fresh arousal coating his fingers. He gathered some of your slickness and slowly dragged it up to your throbbing clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. Your hips bucked up in hopes of seeking more contact.

“Hm—so responsive,” Jeno purred, looking pleased with himself, “I could do this all night—keep you on the edge, begging so desperately for me.”

“Please—” you tried to say around the gag, your eyes pleading, you were so close, teetering on the brink of an explosive climax. Just a little more.

But Jeno seemed determined to deny you that satisfaction, easing off right as you were about to fall over into your state of euphoria, frustration bubbled up inside you, mingling with the overwhelming lust coursing through your veins.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, baby,” Jeno taunted, nipping at your inner thigh, “I want to hear you scream my name—let everyone know who you belong to.”

His fingers circled, feather-light touches that drove you wild with need. You thrashed beneath him, incoherent noises of desperation spilling from your lips. Jeno just chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your plight, removing your gag to hear you gasp loudly, his name on the tip of your tongue. 

Jeno was cruel, so cruel the way he denied your orgasm yet again with a smirk playing on his face, a whole one eighty from how he was an hour back and you were crying by now, something he seemed to enjoy too as he licked your face, tasting the salty teardrop you let out, “this makes me wanna ruin you more, y’know?” 

“Fuck—Jeno, let me cum please,” you sobbed as he took you in his arms. 

“You wanna cum, hm?” He asked as you settled on his lap, his hard on pressing against your thigh as you nodded, “fuck, you look so pretty crying like that for me, like a doll, a doll for me to use, hm?”

You couldn’t take it anymore, getting off and undoing his pant buttons as he watched you with amusement how you struggled to take off his pants and boxers, only to find his cock waiting for you, hard and proud. 

Jeno’s cock was throbbing, hard and ready to burst, as you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip in a teasing manner. You could taste the salty beads of precum leaking from his slit, the flavor sending a jolt of desire straight to your core.

“Fuck—baby,” Jeno groaned, his fingers threading through your hair as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper into your throat. “Your mouth feels so good. Keep going just like that, good girl.”

You moaned around his length, the vibrations making him shudder. Your own arousal was dripping down your thighs, coating them with your slick essence. The wet sounds of your slurping filled the room, mingling with Jeno’s heavy breaths and grunts of pleasure.

“Shit—fuck, take it easy, I won’t be able to hold back," he panted, his grip on your hair tightening, “I’m gonna fucking come down your throat if you keep sucking me like that.”

You redoubled your efforts, eager to taste his release. Your tongue flattened against the underside of his shaft as you sucked harder, determined to milk him of every last drop. Just as you felt him start to swell, signaling his impending orgasm, you pulled away with a pop.

Jeno’s eyes jolted open, a mix of confusion and frustration flashing across his face. “What the fuck, baby? Why the fuck did you stop?”

You just smiled coyly up at him, licking your lips. “Because I want you to come inside me. I want to feel you fill me up with your hot cum, or are you too much of a coward to fuck me?” You teased, your grin making him scoff. 

God he loved you. 

Jeno growled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. In a flash, he grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your side, your back pressed firmly against his torso. 

Before you could even process the sudden change in position, he was lined up at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging your slick folds.

“Teasing me will only get you punished,” he warned, his voice low and husky with desire. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”

With that promise, he slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching as he filled you completely. Jeno set a brutal pace, pounding into you with wild abandon.

You let out a sharp cry as Jeno’s thick cock stretched you open, filling you so deeply that you could feel him bulging through your lower abdomen. The feeling of his hard length pulsing inside you sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you arch your back and press your ass against him.

“Lord—ah yes,” you gasped, grinding against him, “you’re—so fucking big.”

Jeno grunted in response, his fingers digging into your hips as he continued to pound into you at a furious pace. The sounds of skin slapping against skin and your needy moans filled the room, mixing with the creaking of the bed frame beneath you.

“Shit, your cunt is so tight,” Jeno mumbled, his breath hot against your neck. “Squeezing my cock like a desperate doll—you were made for me, baby. Made to take my dick and milk me dry.”

His filthy words only heightened your arousal, making you clench even tighter around him. You could feel your orgasm building again, the tension coiling in your core as he hit that special spot deep inside you with each thrust.

“Please don’t stop, not this time,” you pleaded, your nails digging into his thighs. “Fuck me harder, Jeno. I’m so fucking close.”

He was quick to flip you over again so you were resting on your back, his hips settling in between you as he held your thighs up, your legs resting on both his shoulders with ease as he snapped into you harder, plunging his cock with more need, as if he was a monster hungry for lust and only lust.

Jeno snarled, his hips snapping forward with a newfound vigor. One hand moved around to rub firm circles around your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body began to tremble, your breath coming out in short gasps as you found yourself on the brink of ecstasy.

“Cum for me,” Jeno demanded, pinching your clit hard, “I want to feel you cum all over my dick, baby.”

With a scream of his name, you practically exploded, your pussy clamping down around him like a vice as your orgasm crashed over you. Your body convulsed, your back bowing as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed through you, which shocked Jeno because you weren’t just having an orgasm. 

You were squirting all over his cock. 

Jeno followed shortly after, his cock pulsing as he spilled his release deep inside you, as he breathed hard, watching you with surprised eyes.

“Fuck,” he groaned, grinding against you to prolong your shared climax, “you’re so fucking hot, so fucking mine.”

You whimpered at the feeling of his hot cum painting your walls, the sensation making your pussy flutter around his shaft. Jeno held you close as you both rode out the aftershocks, his softening cock still buried inside you.

“You’re mine,” he mumbled, “say it.”

“Yours—I’m yours,” you breathed as best as you could. 

“Again.”

“I’m yours, Jeno.”

“Fuck—again.”

“So so fucking yours, I’m all yours Jeno.”

“Mine,” he whispered, so possessive. 

After a few moments, Jeno carefully pulled out and rolled you onto your back. He pressed gentle kisses along your jawline and down your neck, his touch soothing and tender in contrast to the rough passion from moments before.

“That was intense,” he murmured, nuzzling against your collarbone, “I don’t think i’ll ever get enough of you, baby. You’re fucking addictive.”

You smiled up at him, reaching up to cup his face. "I could say the same about you. The way you fuck me, it’s like you’re a fucking beast.”

“Was I too harsh?” He asked, placing soft kisses all over, “I’m sorry I just lost control—you have no idea how badly I need you, I don’t think I can stop,” he confessed. 

You kissed him again, “then don’t stop, just don’t.”

That’s all he needed to hear for the night, that you were finally his, and he was yours. He smirked, the night was just getting started. 

Chapter 10: Hate me less? You love me more. 

You don’t remember how the night ended, not when Jeno kept his promise of how you wouldn’t be able to walk anymore once he was done with you, and he was precise about it. He was far from done when he made you fall apart on his cock so many times, you lost count. 

It was a crazy switch up once you both were done, he took care of you, almost like he was made for it, helping you clean up in little bathtub which was definitely too small to fit the both of you, yet he helped you bath, a faint blush on his face as you laughed once he tried to act sly, touching you again when you were so sensitive and overstimulated. 

Turns out, Jeno can be super clingy when he has to be, also not letting you go once you get out of the tub, helping you dry your hair, helping you moisturize your body, helping you smile by kissing you every few seconds. 

He held you to sleep, not before hearing you say you actually want him and it’s not a dream. Jeno doesn’t remember if he ever felt this way before, this warmth called happiness that you provided him so easily. 

“I love you,” he mumbled to your sleeping figure, he was whipped, already thinking of your future together. Yeah, maybe it all happened too quickly, he still wouldn’t have it any other way. He wouldn’t mind getting through all the hurt again if it meant that he’d wake up to you sleeping next to him—to you loving him. 

It was perhaps the best day of Jeno’s life. 

The air felt different today.

Not because of the weather, which was finally warm and breezy after days of storm and stress, but because Jeno was walking beside you—not behind, not ahead—beside you. His fingers were laced with yours, his thumb brushing over your skin every few steps like he was still checking if this was real, he still couldn’t believe it. 

It was.

You passed the main quad slowly, in no rush. The two of you didn’t need to say much. Conversations dimmed as you walked through. You could feel the glances, the whispers.

Someone definitely said your name. Then his.

And then, clear as day, they whispered. 

“Wait—are they actually holding hands?”

Jeno didn’t flinch.

Not like he would’ve, weeks ago. Not like the boy who couldn’t stand being seen, being known. Instead, he just grabbed your hand a little tighter—casual, sure, and completely unbothered. His expression said it all—Yeah, and?

You chuckled. “Think they’re combusting?”

“Oh, definitely,” he said, tugging you closer with a smugness he barely bothered to hide anymore. “Especially that one girl who’s walking with me, who swore she’d never even look at me.”

“She wasn’t entirely wrong,” you teased. “You were kind of a menace.”

He groaned, tossing his head back, “were?”

You laughed, and it made him smile, soft and full, the kind of smile he used to hide and now gave you freely.

“You’re doing that look again,” he said, side-eyeing you. “Like you’re psychoanalyzing me.”

“Maybe I am. Can’t help it. You’re a walking dissertation, y’know?”

“Yeah? What’s the title?”

You looked up at him with a shrug. “How to fall for someone you’re supposed to hate.”

That made him stop walking.

You blinked, startled, but he was already turning to face you, his hoodie sleeves pushed up just enough to show the fading bruises on his knuckles—old reminders of the version of him you never gave up on.

“I’m glad you did,” he said. “Fall for me. Even when I made it so damn hard.”

You smiled slowly, the kind of smile that made his breath catch. “You still do.”

“Yeah, well,” he squeezed your hand, “at least I’m hot.”

You were too busy rolling your eyes to realize you’d just walked past Jaemin and his friends until the entire bench went awkwardly quiet. Jaemin looked up, eyes flicking from your joined hands to your face, and then to Jeno—who didn’t even spare him a glance.

He was too focused on you. Too content stealing a bite of your ice cream like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Let’s go,” you muttered, trying not to laugh as you nudged him forward.

Jeno followed. No hesitation.

Because this, the hand holding, the quiet teasing, the stares that didn’t matter anymore, this was normal.

And for the first time in his life, Jeno finally understood: Normal didn’t mean boring.

It meant chosen. It meant enough.

It meant being yours.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[eraserbread]

your friend with benefits, suguru, hates seeing you with other men. but, he hates commitment more

so, he'll watch you twist and twirl on the dance floor, grinding into a stranger you wouldn't remember come sunrise. he stays silent, sitting... watching... waiting.

his chest is tight, body wound like a spindle as you swap sweat with this brawny, unclean man. suguru wants to leave. he wants you take you by the hand, claim you as yours, and leave this shitty club.

it wasn't even his idea to come here anyway.

so, when he finally drags you back to his apartment, he's tossing you on the bed, body dense and strong, when he crawls over you.

you're drunk, overheating from residuals alone, and totally fucked off what you know is going to happen. you don't have it in you to speak and ruin this perfectly feverish moment.

"i'll show you who you belong to," he's whispering, one hand propped to hold him up, the other digging in your jeans, desperate to get them off. but, they're tight -- sticking sinfully to your damp skin.

though he's so tense, suguru is still irresistibly sweet. his lips are soft, bitten red and rosy as he's kissing you back to life. you know these words -- can feel them in your bones. but, you also know his tendencies. he'll fuck you like he loves you, and push you to the front door well after midnight.

your mutual friends are clueless; after all, this is nothing. just quick body-to-body when both of you are hung up and bored.

but how are you not supposed to catch feelings when he's burying his familiar, thick cock inside of you raw as ever, eye contact unwavering, and so beautifully stoic as he whispers into the air,

"i could stare at you for hours... really, you're just so beautiful."

[shuavez]

litany 𓄧 k.mg

i. tie a cherry.

summary 𓄧 every oath has a cost. every touch has a consequence. sent deep undercover into one of the city’s most illicit vampire clubs, two detectives must navigate the delicate balance between duty and desire — and survive the consequences when pretending stops feeling like pretending.

and some hungers, once fed, are impossible to starve.

tags 𓄧 detective!au, vampire!mingyu x human!reader. slow-ish burn. fake dating. friends/coworkers to lovers. various svt members/idols.

warnings 𓄧 mentions of blood, death, feeding. 

wc. 5.3k.

You’re not entirely sure when this case became your case. One minute it was a ghost rumor, something passed down through precinct whispers—Velvet Eden, the kind of place that exists on the fringe of the city and the law. The next, a body turned up in Sector 6, hollowed out and discarded like trash. And suddenly, the case had a heartbeat.

Organized Crime called in Homicide. Your name was already circled in red ink. You barely blinked. That’s the job, after all. Blood, bodies, and bad decisions. Cases involving vampires usually landed in V-CAD, the Vampire Crimes & Affairs Division, but this one bled into too many departments.

You’ve worked vampire cases before—civil disputes, rogue feeders, one or two cold-body cleanups. But Velvet Eden isn’t that. It’s something older. More indulgent. Less law, more religion.

Still, you weren’t expecting this.

You weren’t expecting a private, invitation-only vampire sex club with a feeding floor and velvet-lined red rooms. You weren’t expecting to slip into the role of arm candy for a six-foot-two vampire with a face like sin and a bite to match. And you definitely weren’t expecting him—Kim Mingyu. Calm. Commanding. All lean lines and quiet power. The kind of man who could make a room stop breathing just by walking into it.

He doesn’t feel like a stranger. You’ve crossed paths on enough cases for that. He’s always been kind, grounded, smart. The kind of vampire who makes you forget to be afraid.

But none of that changes the fact that in ten minutes, you’ll be walking into a club full of predators, pretending to be his prey.

And he’ll have to feed from you.

Your stomach flips, but you keep your face neutral as street lights streak gold across the windshield. Mingyu’s driving—one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the gearshift. He’s dressed in all black, shirt unbuttoned just enough to get one thinking. The silk catches the light. His scent—smoke, earth, and something inherently warm—bleeds into the leather interior of the car. You’re hyper aware of every inch between you. It feels deliberate. Loaded.

You glance out the window and try not to think about the heat climbing the back of your neck. The dress you’re in—deep wine, cut high on the thigh, open at the back—was chosen for how it clings, how it tempts. You’re not used to dressing for hunger.

“—you hearing me?” Jeonghan’s voice slices through the quiet, speakerphone crackling from the center console. You jump, just slightly.

“Loud and clear,” you answer smoothly, though you hadn’t caught half of what he said.

“You’re about to enter a location with zero backup,” he says. “But this isn’t a takedown. You’re gathering intel, building rapport, and staying alive. Right now, as fresh meat, you’re not to leave Mingyu’s side and he’s not to leave yours. Understood?”

“Understood,” you mutter.

“Hey.” Jeonghan’s voice softens. “If anything feels off, pull out. No hesitation. No pride. Just say the word.”

Beside you, Mingyu shifts slightly, glancing over at you. “You won’t be alone in there,” he says, voice low. Steady. Reassuring in a way you feel in your chest. You meet his eyes for a half-second longer than you mean to.

You nod. “I know.”

And the thing is—you do. You’re not afraid of him.

“We’ll mingle for a little, suss out the vibe and you can get a feel of the place. I’m warning you, it’s fucking weird, dude. You’re pretty good at commanding a room, but even I get on edge here. You’re probably gonna see a lot of things you’d rather not, but you have to keep your cool or they’ll smell it on you.” Mingyu fixes you with a quick, firm look before returning his attention to the road, jaw tense.

Then Jeonghan chimes in again through the phone, voice crackling slightly, “Head to a Red Room when you’re both ready, and do your thing.” There’s a beat of silence, and then he stutters. “Just do whatever you have to do to pass off that you’re a real couple. Don’t be shy.”

The line clicks off. Silence floods the car for a moment before Mingyu speaks again, quieter this time.

“Hey, uh…” he clears his throat, fingers tightening around the wheel, “I know this is kinda personal, and I swear I wouldn’t ask unless it was important, but…” He glances at you again, expression serious now, if not a little sheepish. “When was your last cycle?”

Your head tilts. “What?”

“Your period. I just need to know if it’s close. Not to be weird. It’s just—” he exhales sharply, embarrassed but pushing through, “Fresh blood, especially menstrual, it hits different to some of them. Like sharks in water. And your baseline scent’s already gonna be… kind of a problem.”

You frown. “Kind of a problem?”

Mingyu hesitates. You see it in the way his jaw flexes, in the pause before he answers.

“Nothing to worry about right now. You’re just… you smell different, that’s all. Good different,” he adds quickly, then curses under his breath. “Not good like that—I mean, objectively. Biologically. I’ll handle it. Just… I need to know if I should be ready to get a little more aggressive with anyone who gets too close.”

You sit back against the seat, arms crossed loosely over your chest. “I’m about a week out. Why?”

“That’s good,” he murmurs, nodding. “Less likely to trigger any, uh… complications.” Another beat. “And I won’t let anyone touch you. No matter what.”

There’s something about the way he says it that sends a little pulse through your stomach. Something protective. Something possessive. But it’s quiet between you again, save for the hum of tires on the asphalt and the low rhythm of your heart starting to thrum harder in your ears.

Velvet Eden doesn’t look like the kind of place that would house everything you’ve been warned about. On the outside, it’s sleek and minimalist — black marble facade, no signage, just a long awning and two impossibly tall bouncers standing like gargoyles at the doors. You can’t hear any music from the street, but the air smells faintly metallic and sweet, like someone poured sugar into rust.

Mingyu circles the car into a private lot tucked to the side, a space clearly reserved for regulars or VIPs. He glances at you once more before he cuts the engine, his jaw tense again, unreadable in the low amber wash of the dashboard lights.

“You good?”

You nod, but your fingers curl tighter around one another in your lap.

“You look good,” he says then, more gently. He doesn’t say it like a compliment. He says it like a reassurance. Like armor.

Your dress is a deep, wine red — sleek, skin-hugging. It dips low at the back, a single strap across your shoulders like a whisper. Mingyu had said something about blending in, about being convincing, and you figured that looking like the kind of girl a vampire would die to touch wouldn’t hurt.

Your perfume clings to your skin in layers — burning cherry and palo santo — warm, smoky, almost edible. Mingyu had commented on it in the car earlier, murmuring, “You got a thing for cherries or something? The dress, the perfume…” and you’d laughed it off, heart thrumming like a live wire.

Inside, the club is thick with it. The heat. The scent. The sound.

Everything is dim and red — not in the trashy, cheap kind of way, but in that disorienting, luxe way that makes you feel like you’ve stepped into another world entirely. Smoke coils in thin tendrils from incense trays tucked into shadowed alcoves. There’s velvet everywhere — couches, walls, the bodies of dancers. A pulse of low music hums from the speakers, winding, slow, heavy with bass. Something deep and sensual is playing. It moves like honey — like hips swaying under silk.

And the smell… Blood. Sex. Sweat. Clove smoke. Burned sugar. You can taste it on your tongue before anyone even speaks to you.

Mingyu’s hand finds the small of your back as he guides you through the crowd. His palm is warm and heavy, protective, but not possessive. You know he’s playing the part — the tall, slow-moving, effortlessly dominant boyfriend — but the way he hovers at your shoulder, the way he watches everyone who even glances at you for a second too long… that’s not acting.

You’re not the only human in here, but you might be the only one who isn’t visibly owned. Others are draped over laps, bent at the neck for easy access, some seated dazed and blissed out on silk cushions while their partners — vampires, all of them — sip at their throats or wrists like they’re nursing a fine wine. And the vampires — gods, they’re beautiful. Ethereal. Almost unreal. Pale or dark-skinned, pierced or painted, wrapped in leather or lace or nothing at all. All sleek limbs and fanged smiles, eyes glowing faintly in the shadows.

You realize, slowly, that you are being watched.

The kind of watching that makes the hairs on your arms rise. The kind that pins you open like a butterfly.

Mingyu leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Keep walking. Keep your chin up. Let them think you belong to me.”

You do. And with that thought comes a sharp, unexpected heat curling low in your belly.

The bar glows a sultry amber, lit from beneath so that every bottle looks like it’s filled with gold, or blood. You lean lightly against it, hyper-aware of the press of Mingyu’s presence just behind your right shoulder. His stance is casual — one hand resting on the edge of the bar, the other just barely brushing the side of your waist — but you can feel the unspoken claim in it. Like he’s drawing a line in the sand with his body alone.

Two menus slide across the bar top.

One is printed in gold foil — cocktails, wine, flavored syrups, things with whimsical names like Sunset on Rue and Liquid Kink. The other menu is black — matte, velvet-touch paper, with minimalist script and coded language: A-negative, fresh. AB+, altered. RH-null, euphoric. You don’t let yourself look at that one too long.

“I’ll have a zero amaretto sour,” you say when the bartender — a tall vampire with golden irises and a scar over his top lip — raises a brow in question.

Mingyu hums low behind you, a small sound, almost lost beneath the beat of the music. “Cherries again,” he murmurs, voice teasing. “You’ve got a type.”

You glance at him. “Or a brand.”

He smiles, and it’s too soft for this place. Something about the crescent curve of his eyes when he looks at you makes your pulse do something stupid. Play the part, you remind yourself. Girlfriend. Established. Not nervous.

The bartender glides your drink over, and Mingyu steps in a fraction closer — not crowding, but enough that you can feel the warmth of his chest brushing your back when you move. Enough that no one would dare slip in between you.

He leans in, not speaking, just watching the room over your shoulder. His lips are close enough to brush your temple. “You’re doing good,” he says quietly. “Natural.”

You sip the cocktail. Sweet, tart, a little sharp on the back of your tongue — a distraction, but only just.

You feel Mingyu’s presence behind you, steady and warm, his breath grazing the curve of your jaw as he surveys the crowd.

Then, on impulse — maybe it’s the drink, or the heat in your blood, or the need to take the edge off this place — you reach for the maraschino cherry skewered on your garnish pick.

“Watch this,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear.

He blinks, the corner of his mouth twitching. “What?”

You pop the cherry into your mouth, chewing slowly, then slide the stem between your lips.

Mingyu goes quiet.

You don’t say anything—just meet his eyes for a long beat as your tongue works quietly, the stem moving behind your teeth with practiced ease. He leans in slightly, brow furrowing, and it takes him a few seconds too long to realize what you’re doing.

When the stem reappears, it’s knotted. Perfectly. Sitting balanced on the tip of your tongue like a challenge.

You flash him a quick smile and set it on your napkin with delicate precision.

Mingyu huffs a breath through his nose — surprised, impressed, something darker curling behind his eyes.

“That’s a dangerous skill to have,” he murmurs.

You shrug, casual. “Crowd pleaser.”

And that’s when a new voice slips in — smooth, low, and edged in silk.

“So this is her.”

The woman standing beside you is tall, statuesque in midnight-blue velvet. Her skin is flawless, eyes the color of aged wine.

She doesn’t address Mingyu first. She addresses you.

“That was clever,” she purrs, her voice dripping with amusement. “Not many humans know how to use their tongues quite so… effectively.”

Mingyu doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move. “Alba,” he says with a polite nod. “Didn’t think you worked Fridays.”

“I don’t. I heard your girl would be here.” Alba’s eyes don’t leave yours. She offers a hand — fingers tipped in glossy black. “Welcome. It’s always nice to see someone… unspoiled.” The words drip with double meaning.

You take her hand. Her grip is cool, elegant, a touch too long. You can feel her evaluating you — scenting you, even — something primal and calculated behind the pleasantries. “She’s got good taste,” Alba continues, eyes flicking down to your dress, your drink. “Sweet with a little bite. Fitting.”

Mingyu lets out a soft huff, amused, but you feel the way his stance subtly shifts, tightening around you. A human might miss it — the way his pupils dilate, the faint flex of his jaw — but you’ve been trained to read detail. He doesn’t like this.

“She’s mine,” he says lightly, but there’s steel beneath the velvet.

Alba smiles. “So you say.” Then she winks at you. “Be careful in here, sweetness. Pretty girls like you don’t always leave with the ones they came in with.”

And just like that, she’s gone — gliding back into the crowd, swallowed by smoke and velvet and music.

You exhale slowly, glass still half-raised to your lips.

“She’s a friend,” Mingyu mutters, and then, quieter: “Sort of. Also one of the club’s top-tier feeders. If she took a liking to you, it’s ‘cause she’s sizing you up.”

You nod once, but your throat is dry.

Mingyu’s fingers find your wrist briefly, grounding. “We’ll stay here a little longer. Then we go to the Red Room.”

Your tongue flicks over your bottom lip, catching the last of the amaretto, and his gaze catches there for half a beat before he looks away again. A group of vampires has entered, sharp suits and hungrier eyes, and you feel the way Mingyu subtly repositions — just enough to block you from view.

Then, casually, he slides a folded twenty across the bar.

The bartender — still all cool disinterest — takes it without a word, disappears beneath the counter, and returns with a small black key. It gleams in the low light, matte and ominous.

Mingyu palms it smoothly, slipping it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

He leans close, his voice pitched low enough that only you can hear it. “Red Room three. It’s the farthest from the stage. Less eyes.”

A ripple runs down your spine — equal parts anticipation and nerves. This is it. Showtime.

You drain the rest of your drink and set the glass down gently.

Mingyu’s hand rests at the small of your back, guiding, anchoring. “You ready?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you glance at him — at the subtle edge of restraint in his posture, the flicker of something darker in his eyes, like he’s been holding his breath since you walked in.

Then you say, evenly, “Lead the way, boyfriend.”

The walk from the bar to the Red Room feels like it stretches on forever. Music thumps low and thick, bass vibrating up through your heels and into your spine. The hallway is bathed in red light, the kind that plays tricks with your eyes—every shadow, every silhouette, a temptation or a threat. Velvet-lined walls soak up the sound like insulation, but the air still hums with sex and something darker. The scent is overwhelming: sweat, perfume, blood. Cherry and palo santo clings to your own skin, warm and sweet in your nose.

Mingyu keeps a hand at the small of your back as you walk. Not quite possessive, not quite casual. Protective. His fingertips are firm through the satin of your dress, guiding you gently but insistently. You feel the weight of his body heat even without touch. You’re not sure if the butterflies in your stomach are nerves or anticipation.

The door to the Red Room clicks open when the key slides home.

Inside, it’s plush and dim—more boudoir than interrogation chamber, but the camera in the corner ruins any illusion of privacy. A velvet bed, dark as blood, is the centerpiece. There’s a chaise in the corner, a bar cart with cut crystal glasses, and heavy curtains hanging like stage drapes over a wall-sized mirror. The air is cooler than the club floor, but heavier somehow. You can feel it sitting on your skin like humidity.

Mingyu steps in first, eyes scanning the corners instinctively. He’s done this before. You can tell by the way he moves, unhurried but deliberate. He sits on the edge of the bed, arms propping him up behind him. His dark eyes flick up to the camera, then back to you.

He mouths something. Cameras.

You nod. Barely. So small it could be a blink.

He pats his thigh, an invitation—brief and respectful. “Is this okay?” he asks aloud, like it’s just part of the role, but you hear the softness underneath.

You step toward him and straddle his lap. His hands settle lightly on your hips, anchoring you there without pressure. The warmth of his body is ridiculous, like standing too close to a fire. You’re already keyed up and you haven’t even done anything yet.

You can feel your pulse in your fingertips, even though it’s faint. His hands are splayed across your lower back now, his body taut like a bow under you. He’s still pretending to lounge, but there’s nothing relaxed about the way he watches you—eyes heavy-lidded, mouth parted, chest rising and falling like it costs him effort to breathe.

He leans in, mouth brushing just under your jaw, murmuring into the soft skin there. “We’ve got audio,” he breathes. “How hard do we want to sell it?”

You know the answer.

“Hard.”

You lift a hand slowly, brushing your fingers along his cheek. It’s warm there. Solid. Strangely human. He looks up at you like he’s trying to memorize your face. Curiosity catches in your throat. “Can I see them?” you ask quietly. “Your fangs.”

Mingyu huffs a laugh under his breath, low and amused, and parts his lips. It’s not theatrical—no giant vampire daggers—but the twin points are sharper, longer than a human’s. Elegant. Clean.

You brush a thumb across one. He shivers slightly.

You don’t know why you ask. Maybe it’s the tension. Maybe it’s the camera. Maybe it’s the fact that if he’s going to drink from you, you want to offer something that’s yours to give.

“Can I kiss you?”

He nods. “Please.”

It starts gentle. Tentative. Curious. But you lean in again and it’s like a switch flips. His hands slip up your back and yours tangle in his hair. Your mouths move together like you’ve done this a hundred times. The kiss turns deeper, hungrier—less about performance, more about something that feels too real.

He kisses like he was made for it. Like he’s trying to memorize you in pieces. The way your lip catches on his. The sweet citrus of your drink. The scent of cherries lingering between your neck and shoulder.

His hands slide over your thighs, your hips, your spine—firm, reverent. You thread your fingers into his hair, tug just a little, and he gasps against your mouth like it’s the first breath he’s taken in years.

And then he pulls back just enough to look at you.

“Can I feed off you?” You nod. 

“No,” he says, voice rough now, unsteady. “I need to hear it.”

Your lips part, your throat working around the heat curling low in your belly. You feel flushed, dizzy, his presence overwhelming every nerve. “Feed off me,” you say, voice barely audible but clear.

He watches you for a moment longer, then shifts his mouth to your neck. He keeps eye contact as long as he can, nose brushing your pulse point. His fangs pierce you with the precision of a surgeon—just a second of pain—and then—

Bliss.

It’s like heat unfurls in your veins. A deep, low-burning euphoria pulses through your limbs, wrapping you in cotton. You’re not sure what noise leaves your mouth but it’s a moan, helpless and heady. Mingyu groans against your throat, low and reverent, like he wasn’t expecting you to taste like this.

Your hands fist in his shirt, dragging him closer as he drinks. You feel his body tense under yours, like he’s trying to keep from shaking. He only feeds for a minute or two, but when he pulls away, he looks absolutely wrecked. Blood on his lips, lips parted. Eyes dark. You slump against him, dizzy and high and somehow… warm.

You slump against him. Dazed. High on him. He wraps his arm around your waist and lets his weight fall back onto the bed, taking you with him.

Neither of you speak for a while. You’re not sure either of you can.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You don’t answer right away. Just lay a hand across his chest and stare at the ceiling, your body buzzing with the aftershock.

“I think,” you finally say, voice hoarse and half-drunk on whatever the hell just happened, “I just saw God.”

Mingyu huffs a laugh, more breath than sound, the warm vibration of it rumbling against your cheek. He wraps his arm tighter around your waist, drawing you closer like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“That tends to be the case,” he murmurs. You don’t think you can move. It takes a concerning amount of brainpower just to keep breathing. To remember that you’re supposed to be undercover. That you’re not supposed to actually melt into your partner’s body like you were sculpted to fit there.

You peel your face off the crook of his neck after a minute, blinking blearily at the ceiling. Your voice is rough around the edges when you manage to push out, “You… do this a lot?” It’s not really jealousy. It’s curiosity. Maybe the tiniest sliver of something sharper under your tongue.

Mingyu stiffens almost imperceptibly under you, just for a second. Then his thumb moves in a slow, soothing arc along the small of your back.

“No,” he says simply. “Not like this.”

You shift slightly to look at him. His face is open, honest.

“I’m careful about who I feed off,” he continues, voice low and even. “Consenting donors. Only when I need it. Never like—” he cuts himself off, like the words are too heavy. “Never like this. Velvet Eden isn’t somewhere I would have chosen to set foot in, if not for….” He trails off, eyes flickering briefly to where the camera watches over the moment.

You realize, as the words sink in, that this isn’t normal for him either. That he’s feeling the same rawness buzzing under his skin.

He keeps talking, maybe to fill the charged silence.

“I don’t like the way most vampires treat feeding.” His jaw ticks, a tiny sign of frustration. “It’s supposed to be… mutual. Respected.”

Your chest tightens a little at the way he says it, like it’s something sacred to him. Not just biology. Not just hunger.

You’re silent for a moment, absorbing it, feeling his heart beat steady against your palm. “I’m glad it’s you,” you whisper before you can second-guess yourself.

Mingyu smiles then, soft and crooked, and it’s devastating. His hand finds yours where it rests over his heart, intertwining your fingers like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Me too,” he says.

You lie there a little longer, both of you pretending you’re just resting. Both pretending you didn’t just tear a seam in something vital.

The ride back is… quiet. Not awkward. Just different. Like you’re both holding something fragile between you and neither of you wants to drop it.

You sit with your head leaned slightly against the window. The city passes by in soft golds and blues, headlights flickering across your skin. Mingyu’s hand rests on the steering wheel, the other flexing on his thigh like he’s thinking about something but won’t say it.

You speak first.

“We’re going to have to go back soon.”

“Yeah,” he replies, glancing over. “Not for a few days, though. It’ll look too eager if we come back too quick.”

You nod.

When he pulls up in front of your building, he doesn’t even hesitate. Parks the car. Gets out. Walks you to the front. You fish your keys out of your coat pocket, hesitating at the lobby door.

“I’m fine,” you tell him.

“I know,” he says, but doesn’t move.

Then, after a pause: “Can I come up? Just to make sure you’re okay. No weird shit, I swear.” He grins, trying to soften it. “Scout’s honor.” You laugh, and it sounds more real than anything has all night.

Inside, you flick on the light in your small but warm apartment. Mingyu lingers by the door. Doesn’t sit. Just looks around like he’s cataloging every detail. Like knowing this part of your world is another way to protect it.

You toe off your shoes. Toss your coat over the arm of the couch. Mingyu’s still standing, hands in his pockets, watching you gently like he’s trying not to spook a deer.

“You can sit,” you tell him. He does. Perches on the edge of the armchair like a man not sure how long he’s staying. “I meant it earlier,” you say, voice quieter now. “I’m glad it’s you.”

Mingyu meets your gaze. For once, he doesn’t deflect with a joke. Doesn’t tease. “Me too.”

The silence stretches. Comfortable. Dangerous.

When he gets up to leave, his fingers graze yours when he hands you the coat you forgot to hang. And the look in his eyes—heavy, unreadable—sticks with you even after the door clicks shut behind him.

He doesn’t start the car right away.

Just sits there, fingers curled loosely around the wheel, the engine off, the streetlamp casting gold slats across the dash. Your building looms to his right. He watches your window for a moment, but the blinds are drawn.

The taste of you still lingers in his mouth.

Not just the blood—though God, that alone was enough to scramble something vital in him—but you. The way you looked at him. Touched him. Said his name like it meant something. The way you curled into him after, without fear.

He shuts his eyes and breathes in deep through his nose, trying to clear his head. It doesn’t work.

You’re still there.

Not just on his tongue. Not just on his skin. But somewhere deeper. Under the sternum. Behind the ribs. Burrowed into a place he didn’t realize was vulnerable.

This was supposed to be routine. Strategic. Controlled. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Mingyu opens his eyes again. Stares out at the empty street. Taps his thumb against the wheel once, twice, like he’s weighing something he doesn’t even want to name.

Then he finally exhales. Just once. Quiet and shaky. And starts the car.

You wake up warm. Heavy-limbed and a little tangled in the sheets, like you’ve been caught mid-dream. The echoes of it cling to you — soft touches, parted mouths, someone whispering your name against your skin.

Mingyu.

You drag in a breath, sharp and sudden, and shove yourself upright just as your phone vibrates violently against the nightstand.

Jeonghan’s name flashes across the screen.

Then again. And again.

By the third call, you fumble to answer, croaking out something close to human.

“There’s been another body,” Jeonghan says without preamble. You can hear the scrape of tires on wet asphalt, the low mutter of radios in the background. “Get up. Get dressed. Mingyu’s on his way to pick you up.”

He hangs up before you can even curse him out.

You throw yourself into clothes on autopilot — slacks, a thick knitted sweater, the softest thing you own that still passes for professional. Your whole body feels wrung out and hazy, muscles sore in places you didn’t know you had. Not painful, exactly. Just… different.

By the time you’re pulling on your jacket, headlights cut across the front of your building.

Mingyu’s SUV idles at the curb, a faint halo of condensation blooming from the exhaust. He climbs out as you approach, tall and solid against the pale wash of streetlamps, and holds out a coffee cup.

“Dirty chai,” he says. His voice is quiet, like he’s not sure how loud the world should be around you yet. “Jeonghan said it’s your favorite.”

You take it, fingers brushing his. He’s not cold. Somehow you thought he would be — vampire and all — but the warmth of him seeps into your skin like secondhand sunlight.

“And these,” he adds, pressing a couple of small sachets into your other hand. Liquid iron. “They’ll help.”

You manage a half-smile. “You’re good at this,” you murmur.

He shrugs, almost shy. “You did the hard part.”

The drive to the scene is short, cut with the soft shuffle of the radio and the occasional tap of Mingyu’s thumb against the steering wheel. Neither of you says much. The air feels weighted, taut with things unspoken.

It’s still dark when you arrive, the city trapped in that brittle pre-dawn chill that bites through every seam of your clothes. You huddle deeper into your sweater as you approach the perimeter, where yellow crime scene tape flutters weakly in the breeze.

Jeonghan is already waiting, gloved up and scowling into his clipboard.

Mingyu falls naturally into step just behind your shoulder, close enough that you feel him there without needing to look.

“Female victim, mid-twenties, no ID yet,” Jeonghan says as you join him. He barely glances up. “ME’s still working on the preliminary cause of death but… it looks familiar.”

You duck under the tape, shoes crunching on damp leaves. The alley is narrow, hemmed in by aging brick and chain link fencing, and the body is slumped against a dumpster.

You glove up quickly and move closer.

Her skin is bloodless. Sickly pale. Clothes torn and stained. But it’s the marks at her throat that stop you cold — two perfect punctures, just above the collarbone.

Your stomach twists sharply.

You glance sideways at Mingyu — and find him already there, studying the scene with an intensity that borders on feral. His mouth is a thin line. His shoulders rigid.

He steps in carefully between the forensic photographer and the ME, crouching low. You watch as he scans, gloved fingers deftly poking through the victim’s scattered personal effects. It’s methodical, clinical — but there’s something under it too, something sharper, heavier.

The crease in Mingyu’s brown deepens as he pulls a wallet out of her left coat pocket, flipping it open.

“Name’s Min Seo-yeon,” he says, voice tight. He hesitates — just a fraction — before pulling a small slip of glossy card from the wallet’s inner pocket.

Velvet Eden.

Membership card.

The blood in your veins goes ice-cold.

next chapter ↝ ii. evidence of absence. (coming soon)

click here for tag list submission / removal.

[fairytsuk1]

can you p l e a s e do an alex's nsfw alphabet? 🙇‍♀️

nsfw alphabet with alex<33

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he’s superrrr loving! he immediately slips from you, holding you close and panting kisses against your soft skin as you mewled and whined for him.

“you were so fucking good for me, i love you,” he murmurs into your ear before kissing the shell of it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his favorite body part on him is his back and shoulders, he loves how buff he looks and how you can hang off of him with ease. plus, he really gets off on how your nails can scratch up his shoulders, making him groan with delight.

he loves your ass, MAYBE he’s an ass man but he’d never admit it. loves how it sways when you walk and how it bounces against his hips as he fucked you on all fours. loves grabbing a handful and squeezing, “damn, mami, you’re so fucking sexy.”

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

loves cumming on your chest, he definitely loved seeing his cum splatter against your hard nipples and paint your skin milky white. he pants, fist still stroking his softening cock as he takes it all in, “god—fuck, can i—can i take a picture? you look… fuck.”

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he really, REALLY wants you to give him a tit job, he thinks it’s really hot and wants to experience that level of intimacy with you. plus, imagine looking up at his soft face, jaw tipped open in pleasure as he huffs a breath, “yesyesyes, fuck, feels so good—mommy!” (maybe he has a bit of a mommy kink…)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

not extremely experience, probably only had two to three partners before you, knows how to have sex but grows more confident in learning your body and what you like!

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

definitely missionary or cowgirl, wants to see your face and stay close to you while inside you. likes missionary cuz he can kiss you while still digging in your guts, loves cowgirl because he can smack your ass, fondle your chest and basically reach all the spots he needs to make you cream.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he can be goofy! definitely laughs when he slips out of you, giggling out an, “oops, hold on.” i think in the beginning of your relationship he’s more serious because he wants to do it right, but he loosens up over time<33

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he’s all natural;)) probably trims occasionally to stay neat for you, but otherwise he doesn’t do anything about it

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

the intimacy is off the charts, the way he caresses and kisses you—lips gliding across your skin with ease as you squirm from his fingers fucking into you.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispers before sucking your cum off his fingers. “and you taste so good.”

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

i think he jerks off to relieve stress, so quite often, but now that he’s with you, he doesn’t really need to jerk off. he just goes to you, seeking, wanting, pleading, “baby, i need you so bad—fuck, please? can i fuck you right here?”

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

definitely has a dom/sub kink, loves seeing you submissive underneath him. add to that a roleplay kink, oh, he’s TOPPING you so expertly it makes you see stars. he’s the type to really enjoy lawyer x secretary, teacher x student, anything that has a power dynamic

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

bedroom is first because he still feels a level of anxiety about being caught anywhere in public. i don’t think he’d like public sex BUT i think he’d love to fuck in his car at least once.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

something about your hands in his hair drives him wild, the way your manicured nails scratch against his scalp, the light tugs from the small knots embedded in his strands. just massaging him is enough to get him so start planting kisses on your exposed skin, his hips grinding against the couch as he groaned softly.

“fuck… c’mere, wanna feel you,” he whispers against your thigh, pulling you in for a messy kiss. “let’s go to the bedroom, yeah?”

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

would never want to share you with anyone else. it’d make him jealous and upset, only with someone he really REALLY trusted but even then i think he wouldn’t be down for it.

another is cumming on your face, he finds it a bit degrading and just can’t work himself up to that. he’s fine cumming in other places though

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

at first he prefers receiving because he’s shy and unsure of how to eat you out the way you like. as your relationship develops, he gets GOOD. sloppy, wet, nose brushing against your clit with his tongue lapping at your soaked hole.

“mmph,” he moans against your pussy, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking. “how do you taste so good? fuck, i need more, baby.”

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he can be both! when he’s really pent up, he just wants to fuck like an animal. pinning you down, hips digging in deep inside you, grunts and groans as your hips meet in loud ‘plap’ sounds.

“yeah, yeah. ohfuck, you feel so fucking good. your pussy is amazing, baby, you know that. don’t you? nghh, wanna cum inside so bad.”

he can be slow and sensual when he’s missed you, when he knows he hasn’t dedicated much time to worshipping your body and giving himself fully to you.

“you’re perfect, i-i mean, seriously. you’re stunning, and i love you,” as he slowly fucks into you before pulling out, leaving you whimpering. “this pussy loves me too, can feel it,” he whispers in your ear, hand grabbing onto your chest.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

LOVESSS a good quickie. he gets horny and just needs you, so he’s down for a quick over the desk or on the counter.

“mmf,” he moans into your neck, hips working in and out of you. “i just… couldn’t wait, fuck. couldn’t.”

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he’s down to try new things! i don’t think he’s too risky, his paranoia keeps him from doing anything that may expose him or threaten his career.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he’s gotten stronger;) his libido is HIGHH so he wants to go for atleast two rounds, alex pawing at your chest and whining in your neck

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

i think he would “own” them for you, he wouldn’t have any toys prior to your relationship. i think he’s not necessarily against toys butttt he would prefer it to just be the two of you;)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

if he’s in the right mood, oh, he will tease. especially when you’re being bratty or he’s extremely stressed. isn’t afraid to edge you with a casual expression, as if he isn’t making you sweat.

“what? i’m not doing anything, nothing at all! just… enjoying your body, it’s so,” and he flicks your nipple, lips quirking into a smirk. “sensitive.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

isn’t too loud, mainly grunts and rough moans—can really dirty talk you. has suchhh a perverted mind, he can turn you on just with his words.

“you want me? well, you gotta beg like a slut for it. you’ve done it before, heh, should i get you to do it again?”

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

is into spanking!! he LOVES a good punishment if the time is right and the two of you are feeling each other. he has you on all fours, ass up and face in the pillow;)

“you’re so good for me,” and a harsh slap accompanies his words. “god, you’re so fucking sexy—i love when you’re like this.”

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he’s not huge, but he’s average and slightly thicker than average. maybe 5.5 inches? i’m a lesbian i’m not sure abt dicks sorryyy LOL

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

like i said, gym has made his libido sky high. wants to be on you all the time, especially if he can showcase his strength. he misses you all the time, and misses your pussy even more.

“baby,” he whispers in the dead of night. “i’m—fuck, can we… i need you. i wanna feel you, can we just cuddle and i can put it in? just wanna hold you.”

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

doesn’t fall asleep too quickly, will actually stay up and pillow talk with you because he just wants to be close to you. prefers cuddling and then falling asleep—he would NEVER fall asleep right after. he thinks that is so insulting lol

[misstycloud]

Hello! What if yan! Playboy saw reader again but with another guy and they are acting lovey dovey how would he react?

Not proofread!

-----------

He would freak out. He'd think about all those nights he laid awake in bed, wondering where you were or if you were even alive. Yandere playboy couldn't bear it if something has happened to you.

However, he didn't expect to receive the answer to his questions by seeing you being all snuggly with someone who's not him.

His first thought would be that he's happy you're safe, then the rage would come. It would take over his entire mind and be the only thing he could think of.

How could you just leave him like that? especially after he poured his heart out to you; and you acted like it didn't matter. Despite the deep feelings he held for you, he couldn't pretend like what you put him through was okay.

"(Y/n)." he said in a stern voice after marching up to you and your date.

You froze and slowly turned to see your love-victim looking furiously at you. You had been careful to not actually divulge any details about your personal life-nothing that could give him a tip on where to find you. Yet, here he was in the flesh.

"who are you? cant you see we're on a date?" your new partner voices, irritated at the interruption.

"I wasn't talking to you." the playboy hissed. He absolutely hated the other mans existence. Of course, he was mad at you too but his presence reminded him that you could leave him for someone else; that there was a chance he wasn't enough to please you.

You sighed and said, "Go away. I'm busy." you also swatted in his direction, making your opinion clear.

"where were you? why did you stop responding to me? you have no idea how worried I was."

"I think being ghosted should send a pretty clear message, dude. I DON'T like you and I'm not interested in you anymore so leave me alone." you combed your fingers through your date's hair. "I have someone else now."

The playboy clenched his fists. He gritted his teeth. "You're coming with me." his tone indicated you had no day in the matter.

You couldn't believe it. Who did this guy think he was. Sure, you knew he fell for you(hard), which was the purpose, but that did not mean he could think he owned you.

"No, like hell i'm going anywhere with you."

"Yes. You are."

"Dude, she said no. Back the fuck up.'' your date tried to defend you. Too bad he wasn't someone of importance, otherwise he might;ve had a real chance of taking you from him.

He glanced him up and down, clearly unimpressed. He couldn't fathom how you left him for someone like...this. Seriously? Was this truly what you desired in a partner or was it possible I was all a test? Did you do this in hope of him proving his dedication to your relationship?

Well, if that was the case then he would gladly prove his loyalty to you. You were the one he wanted to make his life partner and there was nothing else that could measure up to the emotions YOU made him feel.

You saw your former fling walk up to your date and lean in close. He whispered something in his ear that you couldn't hear. Your date's eyes widened and he went pale. The longer the playboy spoke, the more fearful he became. You did have a clue what was said but it clearly freaked him out- enough for him to bail.

He quickly excused himself and ended it with, "Don't bother calling anymore, I'm not interested in some triangle bullshit." before rushing off in a random direction.

"Looks like he wasn't as interested as he claimed to be, no need to feel sad though, you have me now." he grinned and wrapped an arm around your waist.

You pried it off you. "What did you say to him?"

"nothing that would have bothered him if he was actually serious about you."

"Stay away from me. I left you and I will never go back to you- I never even liked you, it was all fake. Don't you get it. I just wanted to get back at you for all the shit you've put people through."

He went quiet at your words. You scoffed and decided to walk away. However, before you could get more than two meters from him, he gripped your arm. You winced as his nails dug into your skin.

"ow! what the-"

"Don't be so rude , (Y/n). I don't think you realise whose feelings you've played with. I love you and I don't plan on going home without you." he hugged you close to his body, ignoring your struggles. "I understand how all this is simply karma for how I used to behave and I accept that, but I won't let you carry out your punishment. You will let me marry you, is that understood? Don't forget who I am- what position I have in society."

You felt your blood run cold.

His smile didn't reach his eyes. "You started a game you have no way of finishing."