#If you would like to know which OC this is

[freakattack]

if you were to make seven new koopaling ocs which six musicians and one random funny name would you name them after

I laughed

It's time for me to confess that when i was 12 i made a fanfiction where there was a secret extra koopaling named after patti smith and the reason we don't see anything about her is because she's nabbit

Now to actually answer your question

Johann Sebastian Koopa: my mary sue self insert

Alice Koopa: low-hanging fruit. Cmon

David Koopa: Nobody would know who I named this one after because he has a lightning bolt on his face but also a really big suit

The Koopa Formerly Known As Prince

Taylor Koopa: I want to see how fast I get sued

Emerson, Lake, & Koopa: this is one koopaling they're just named that

Ringo Koopa: "He just looked like a Ringo"

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Brat by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Female OC

Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex, Spanking, Choking, Dom!Terry Richmond, BDE, Bisexual Female Partner, Compersion Fetish, BDSM Play, Urophilia/Watersports.

Summary: Sasha is a brat. On purpose. Now Terry is mad. Big mad.

Word Count: 6.7K

"I'm still, I'm still wet here tonight

So I will make you cum through the night

Will you touch me? Will you go deep in me?

I will in the sheets

I will, I will, I-I-I will"

Teyana Taylor – "WTP"

The cops were called to his home

Terry worked overnight duty on base, and his desk phone rang at ten-twenty. His neighbor Roderick, a fellow marine, hit him up with news that a noise complaint about his apartment brought out the local police. It was the second one that month.

"Your girlfriend has a bunch of women in your place again…the music is blasting and the cops are talking to her right now."

Terry rubbed his forehead. His jawline tightened. Sasha knew better than to have a bunch of people in his place when he wasn't there without letting him know about it ahead of time. He'd recently given her keys to his apartment six months ago as a reward for being a good girl. Here she was, fucking up the privilege already.

You see, Sasha is a brat.

On purpose.

It's a quality that titillates Terry, and yet it frustrates him, too. Sasha can't help it. Her nature is to be desirable, a supreme fuck, and well…a rule breaker.

Terry met Sasha at a wedding in Bayagoula Parrish, Louisiana. Both were part of the wedding party, he as a groomsman and she as a bridesmaid. He wore his military dress blues to match the groom. Sasha's beauty angered the bride who felt she eclipsed all the other women in the wedding party. He appreciated it because they'd been paired with different people to walk down the aisle, and he had the opportunity to watch her stroll in after him. Sasha displayed her shapely figure, which could be quite distracting. Her legs were fantastic, especially in heels and a high slit dress. She was top heavy too, and the off-the-shoulder dress made every attracted eye dart back and forth between thigh meat and the big juicy melons bouncing as she approached the altar. The tangerine orange of her dress enhanced the warm cognac color of her skin. He couldn't pull his eyes away from her. She was pure fap material for guys who couldn't pull her, which happened to be many at the reception. Samuel, who partnered walking down the aisle with her, strutted around thinking he was the shit with her displayed on his arm. But it was a wrap once Sasha lined her gaze with Terry's at the altar. Fireworks.

The two of them together oozed sex appeal and thoughts of sex. They complimented each other's energy. He had an assertive, domineering personality shaped by his years in the marines. Equal parts controlling and nurturing, he could overwhelm the ladies within seconds of meeting them. He already had the women there swooning over his voice. A gaze from his alluring eyes in any direction set hearts fluttering. Even the older women tee-heed with girlish enthusiasm interacting with him. He knew his power to attract and weaponized it as needed.

Sasha was a natural pleaser. Not to be mixed up with an overall people-pleaser, or a tiresome PickMe, her desire was to satisfy her lover, and they in turn would naturally gift her the moon, with a necklace of stars to match. She came off bubbly, warm, and endearing…the type of woman receptive to romance from an Alpha type. Male or female. He sensed she needed a little bit of spoiling with firm discipline to keep her in check. Pleasure and punishment. A heady combination he wanted to offer.

One bridesmaid joked about Terry and Sasha looking like human versions of Scar and Nala from The Lion King. His devilish green eyes and her equally cat-like eye shape gave testament to it. Their instant chemistry was like an electric current running through a socket. Everyone around them sensed the incredible magnetism they carried in proximity, like static electricity zapping them.

She sat down at the same table and immediately started flirting with Terry. After a few drinks, a deeper connection blossomed. Her voice turned him on. Everything sounded erotic the way she enunciated certain words, as if she wanted to make love to his ears. They chatted each other up, lightly touching hands and arms, whispering in each other's ears. Her breasts kept brushing against his arm, turning him on further as he fantasized about sucking on them with her sexy legs thrown over his shoulders. She brought out a feral competition in a lot of the men who interacted with her on the dance floor. What impressed him the most was how she complimented women there constantly, hyping them on their clothes and make-up. She was a girl's girl and danced with some who men passed over by streaking to the dance floor because the DJ was excellent. Sasha rallied a group of women into doing the YaYa, a Creole line-dance making a resurgence in those parts because of Beyonce's Cowboy Carter album.

He didn't want to get sweaty in his military uniform, but Terry couldn't resist a good, soulful line dance with a bunch of Black people. Bayagoula had some slim pickings for Black women since it was a majority white town, but since the bride was Black, Terry and a host of other Black soldiers hoped she had enough Black female friends coming to town available for some good times. He silently thanked the wedding planner for placing Sasha next to him. They shared a slow dance, and he loved having her breasts resting against his chest.

As the evening continued, they cozied up even more.

Sasha kissed him first right at the table. The lights in the venue had lowered for after-dinner partying, so Terry took advantage, purposely grazing his fingers against her right breast where he'd thrown his arm around her shoulder. Their table was empty and the dance floor was full tilt boogie. Nibbling on her earlobe, he whispered filthy things he wanted to do to her. He lowered his hand and slipped them up the slit in her dress, sliding her panties aside, fingering her with shallow thrusts. She let him finger fuck her, begging for him to go deeper.

Sasha started playing with Terry's dick under the tablecloth. Everyone else was too drunk and too occupied with dancing. No one paid attention to them. She got his dick so stiff that he dragged her to the nearest restroom and fucked her. Lifted her onto the sink, hiked up her dress, unfastened the upper part of her dress and released tits he now adored. It didn't take long for him to spill into the condom. Their foreplay at the table had them rearing to go.

His dick was too big and heavy to fit all the way inside her pussy. The last two inches, visible at the root, moved up and down as he ejaculated. He loved how she handled his meat. He packed so much length that her pussy squirted from the pressure of being stretched to capacity. She peed on him, too. He pinched her big nipples, obsessing over them already.

"I'm taking you home with me," he said.

His dick kept pulsing cum, and he shivered as the last orgasmic surge pushed through his dick. Even his nut sack jumped at the pleasure of release. Sasha gave off soft babygirl energy, and he wanted a woman like that. He'd only known her for five hours and already claimed her as his.

"Okay," she said, with her legs draped over his arms.

Terry turned her around and lifted her breasts. He watched his reflection in the mirror bounce them in his hands, getting off on the weight and size. His dick finally started going down, and Sasha peeled the condom off. He turned to urinate in the toilet and she held his dick for him, guiding the stream into the bowl.

"You like watching me do that?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Hmmm, into watersports?"

Her sloe eyes twinkled with delight.

"I used to watch my brother's college friends pee in our backyard when they were drunk. The sight of dicks out in the open like that…squirting everywhere…yummy. I get wet just thinking about it."

"What if I pissed on you? Would you like that?"

"Yes, Daddy…I would play with my pussy while you did it."

He grinned. She already understood his expectations. He whispered in her ear that he wanted a good girl, an obedient one, and she knew exactly what he meant. A submissive that catered to her man.

She shook his dick and used one of the soft paper towels to clean his tip. Then she dropped to her knees and sucked him off for a final cleaning. He wanted to bust a load on her face, but they'd been in the restroom long enough.

He scooped her up and drove back to his apartment.

They began a committed relationship soon after.

Terry dominated her life. Told her what to wear, what to cook for them when he worked hard all day supporting them both. Sasha flitted from part-time job to job like a bee gathering pollen whenever she was bored, not in a rush to find a career like Terry had done. He was a big bad marine with a jacked body, a tatted sleeve down one arm, and a sculpted face. He liked her being home, and she liked being there spoiled by him. His pay grade and rank allowed him to provide a comfortable life for her.

There were other rules, of course.

The apartment had to be pristine clean and her pussy had to be ready when he came home. He dealt with loud, tense, funky, gritty, and abrasive men all day. His home had to reflect the opposite vibe, and he needed to sink into her softness in the evening.

She greeted him at the door after work, looking dreamy in heels and clothes he liked to see her in, like short skirts and sexy dresses to show off those legs. With a cocktail in hand and deep welcoming tongue kisses, Sasha played her role. He brought home flowers every Friday, and at least once a week he bought her presents. She liked bracelets and expensive perfumes in fancy little bottles. He bought her books on whatever new hyper-fixation she had. One month it was soap-making. Another month it was origami, and he suffered through an apartment full of little flying cranes and odd-shaped butterflies. It made him feel good to bring her something special just to witness the sparkle in her eye and the squeal she let out each time. That was often more arousing than foreplay.

On the weekends, when he had to stay on base or travel out of state for additional work-related training, they agreed that she could have a female lover over for girl time. They'd brought other women into their bedroom on various occasions, and Terry sat next to Sasha as she had sex on the king-sized bed. He never indulged in the other women with her, preferring to watch and jerk off. Some might say he was a cuck, but that wasn't it. He had a compersion fetish. Sasha's happiness at having him as a boyfriend and still indulging in sex with another woman gave him pleasure mentally. It stimulated him, no doubt, to watch his woman go at it with another beautiful woman, but he never did a threesome by sticking his dick in someone else. Sasha was enough woman for him, plus, not every outsider was into the things that he liked to do to her. Like breath play with choking, and of course, the golden showers.

Sasha played the submissive well, pampering herself during the day in preparation for his coming home. Terry gave strong Daddy energy, and it brought out the softness in her. His father raised him to be a stern patriarch and southern gentleman. Women were to be taken care of and the expectation was for them to please their men like sweet southern belles.

Sasha was sweet and one hundred percent southern…but a brat, nonetheless. And brats don't always do what you tell them.

She'd purposely leave crumbs in the kitchen for him to find after work. Or she'd forget to make the bed the way he liked. Sometimes she ordered take out instead of making him the home-cooked meals he expected. That's when Terry would fume and take off his belt, lifting her up and taking her into the bedroom to get spanked until her ass cheeks were a deeper shade. When he finished striking her backside, he'd rub cooling blue gel all over her rump, simultaneously soothing her and chastising her.

"Why do you make me do this to you?" he'd lament. "You know I don't like punishing you. I want to come home and have peace. You're my peace, Sasha."

Those searing green eyes would narrow and his brows stayed furrowed, correcting her behavior.

She loved that shit.

However, on the day he had to leave for a weekend base stay several hours before Roderick called him about the police at his place, Sasha (purposely):

1. Forgot to pick up his dry cleaned dress blues on time the night before when he asked.

2. Tossed his clean clothes in drawers without folding them.

3. And God forbid, mixed his unpaired socks in his underwear drawer.

His jaw grew rigid, and he spoke to her through gritted teeth.

"Didn't we talk about this?" he said with an exasperated tone.

"Who cares? Everything is clean. I'll get your dry cleaning today. Don't have a cow," she said, scrolling through pages of fashion on her tablet, hoping he'd snap.

He always took the bait.

His hand went gently around her throat, and he pushed her against the wall.

"What did I tell you about talking to me like that?"

A dangerous smirk twisted his lips to the side. Sasha pouted.

"It won't kill your clothes to not be perfect. I washed and dried them and put them away. That's good enough. Deal with it."

"You know we have to have order in this home. I tell you this every day, Sasha, an orderly home denotes an orderly mind. Fix it."

"You fix it."

He sighed and glanced over at the clock on the wall. His work day started in thirty minutes. He had to be on base in fifteen or risk being late. That was simply a no-no.

"Go straighten out those drawers," he insisted, with more bass in his voice.

He pushed her toward the dresser and hurriedly went to their walk-in closet to grab and fold his old dress blues. He liked to have them on him in case the upper brass needed him to appear ready at a moment's notice for any occasion. His new uniforms needed cleaning before he would wear them. Sasha strolled past their bureau.

"Sasha, I'm not playing!"

He buttoned up the shirt of his duty uniform. She sashayed toward the bedroom door, switching her hips in her babydoll nightie, big titties bouncing, not having any plans for the day except eating chocolate bon bons and shopping online or doing whatever she wanted at her whim because he wanted her to.

"Sasha!"

She ignored him. He snatched her up, throwing her across his lap on the bed. Yanking her nightie up, he pulled the matching panties down and swatted that ass. He gave an even number of spanks on each cheek, careful to soothe as well as punish so as not to harm her tender skin. She yelped and refused to apologize for back talking, making him more upset…and his dick hard.

He added some harder smacks under the jiggling booty cheeks, and she got the message, jerking on his lap and hissing from the sting of genuine pain settling in. He held her down with one arm and heated that ass up, stopping before she needed their safe word. Her disobedience and disrespect resulted in an unscheduled spanking session today, although they had scheduled sessions for weekdays and weekends.

He refused to use the cooling gel on her. She needed to feel the pain of punishment for at least an hour. He'd give her more after he returned home from work.

Terry looked down at his protruding dick nearly blasting a hole through his work pants. Sasha stared at it too, licking her lips. This was what she wanted. He'd ignored her earlier in bed when she wanted dick at four in the morning. The night before, he'd dragged home exhausted from combat drills. He chose to crash out instead of pleasing her. Her hand rubbed on his muscle-toned thighs and traced lines on his tatted bicep, but he was not in the mood.

She chose to make him late. Just to get back at him. He came harder when he was angry or irritated. Down went his zipper… and her knees. He fished out his dick and stroked hard and fast.

"Selfish little brat," he barked. "Making me fucking late!"

She pulled down her nightie, revealing his weakness, and he stared at her breasts. He moaned out loud when she plucked at her nipples and circled her pretty manicured nails around the edges of her dark areolas, reminding him visually of how big they were, and how much he loved that about her.

Pre-cum spilled out of his deep slit, and she used it as a lubricant to tease around her sizeable nipples that stood out like fat, juicy blueberries. His sack was heavy with cum. Sasha licked her lips. Smacked those big melons together, and he blew his load all over her pretty face. She brushed back her wild, wavy hair and continued shaking her titties for him.

He panted and shot another hot rope across her tongue. She jumped up and placed herself on the bed, spreading open her labia for him to see the wet pink of her dripping pussy.

"Fucking slut!"

His eyes became mere slits of angry jade. He grabbed his cell and called his boss while shaking off his pants. A credible lie fell out of his mouth as he plunged into her. He bought an hour pretending to have a dead battery in his car. Tossing the phone on the bed, he fucked Sasha as deep as she could take unsheathed. He grunted, and she threw her arms across his shoulders, satisfied that she got what she wanted.

Anger guided his thrusts. When he started getting too aggressive, he switched to eating her pussy. That helped calm him down. She was insatiable. He should've paid more attention to that quality about her after the first night he fucked her. Sasha loved his dick and craved it at all hours.

Terry sucked and licked her clit, forcing breathy moans out of his woman. She rocked and rolled her hips, her vulva laid out like a summer nectarine: smooth, juicy and sweet. Sasha soaked his lips and chin. His facial hair became a sticky mess with her excess.

He spooned her on his side and parted her cheeks with his dick alone, sliding in and stretching her properly. Terry fondled a breast and pounded her down until that juicy pussy clenched around him. He kept fucking because he knew she needed more.

"Oh, Daddy! I'm sorry! Don't punish me like this!" she screamed, clutching onto the covers.

She wasn't sorry. She wanted that deep Daddy dick.

Sasha said it like a mantra over and over, "Oh Daddy…I'm sorry! Oh, Daddy…I'm sorry! Oh, Daddy…"

He groaned and hit the side of her walls to really make her feel it, and spurt a geyser of cum, still angry that he was late. But busting a nut that hard was worth it in the end. She gasped, her legs jerking wildly at the intensity.

Rising from the bed, he looked down at his brat. She took her fingers and peeled back her labia, letting him see the big creamy mess he made inside of her.

"Wait until I get home Sunday!" he snapped, lifting his pants from the floor.

She pissed him off.

And he let her.

He grabbed his small work duffle, and the garment bag he stuffed his old uniform in and slapped her thigh.

"Fix those clothes in the drawers," he grumbled.

After he left, she teased him mercilessly with several bathroom selfies of her voluptuous breasts and pancake areolas. Her big nipples stuck out hard, and she knew he would suffer at work seeing them all weekend and unable to touch them. During his lunch break, he went into a restroom stall and recorded himself urinating. Using his pelvic muscles, he made his dick twitch and spill urine on the seat. His penis was still big while flaccid, and moving it as he splashed into the toilet would excite her. He shot off the clip to her and later, during another break in his car, she sent him video clips from her smartphone of herself fingering her wet pussy and sucking on her nipples while she watched his video on her tablet. Sex was their shared passion. Their best form of communication.

"You were mean to me today," she texted afterward.

He jerked off in the car, re-watching her squirt all over herself. His dick was the object of her affection when she watched him piss. To her, it was just as sexy as watching him ejaculate semen. It came from inside of him, therefore it was precious to her.

She sent more photos of herself looking down at the phone with her breasts hanging with her tongue partially sticking out. He fucking loved her, and immediately sent her a sweating face emoji with hearts, and couldn't wait to fuck her like a goddamn wild man.

Back at work, he did some emergency drills and then took his place at the duty station, overseeing lower ranked soldiers.

Roderick's phone call shattered the routine of his evening. He couldn't leave work to deal with her, so he had to suffer the entire weekend.

Sasha didn't know that Roderick notified him of the cops. She kept sending him loving texts. Asked him what he wanted for supper on his return home.

"I picked up your uniform, and I organized the drawers properly, Daddy," she texted.

He ignored it, pretending to be busy.

She never mentioned having a gathering at his place that weekend. Technically, it was their shared residence, but his name was the only one on the lease. That meant any problems that occurred with the cops reflected on him in the complex. It wasn't a rarity to have the police called around there for noise ordinances. It was predominately military living there, so close to the base. Lots of parties occurred. But he'd never had them called on him until Sasha moved in. He didn't want that reputation, and he didn't want to dump her like he did his last girlfriend, who stayed out of pocket with him until he had enough. She was disobedient in other ways, but not enough to bring the authorities his way. His reputation and moral character around town was everything to him. He'd hate to let go of amazing pussy and fat titties. Terry was already thinking of putting a ring on Sasha's finger after only six months of being together. Babygirl was that perfect.

Except for when she acted out in ways he didn't like.

Sunday couldn't come fast enough.

He'd have Monday and Tuesday off. Plenty of time to course correct Sasha.

After showering and shaving on base, he drove to his complex in the early evening without telling her the exact time he was coming back.

He crept up the stairs to his second floor. The onsite apartment manager taped another yellow noise complaint notice to his door. He pulled it down and read the warning while sliding his key in. Stepping inside, the living room lights were off, but the bedroom and hall lights were on. She'd cooked something because the odor of something good still wafted in the apartment. He kicked off his shoes, already upset that she wasn't there to greet him.

Dropping his bags and the warning notice on the couch, he padded to their master bedroom.

Sasha was sucking down another woman's box on his bed.

Jasmine.

Both women were oblivious to him being there.

Terry sat down on the side chair in the room facing the bed and watched them go at it. Sasha had a small vibrator inserted into her vagina that also stimulated her clit. It was a cute little pink toy that hummed along to their sex play. His irritation from the notice simmered in the back of his mind. It took him a few minutes to settle into watching his woman and her side piece. Their moans and soft murmurings lulled him into arousal.

He started playing with his dick, pulled it out all the way along with his balls. Smearing pre-cum all around the bulbous head, he took slow strokes up and down, staying underneath the thick ridge. Sasha's pussy looked so pretty, with the pink toy snug inside of her. Her lover thrashed her head back and forth. He fisted his dick faster, smacking on his balls, wishing her pussy could go all the way down on him.

Jasmine came in Sasha's mouth and his lady love's pussy throbbed with a powerful orgasm. Sasha smacked her lips and moaned as her pussy took the internal vibrations. She glanced over her shoulder.

"Daddy," she sputtered, shocked to see him sitting in the room.

Jasmine lifted on her elbows and grinned.

Terry stood and dragged Sasha by her foot to the end of the bed. He pulled out the small vibrator from her pussy and jammed the tip of his dick against her vulva and nutted all over it. Sasha squealed with delight at the man-handling and Jasmine stared with envy. She longed to suck and fuck him, but that would never happen.

"Come lick up his cum," Sasha said.

She smeared it all over her clit and Jasmine settled between her thighs, lowering her head to lick like a cat lapping up milk.

Terry pulled off the rest of his clothes. Sasha kept her eyes locked on his, ignoring Jasmine licking her way to glory. When most of his semen went down Jasmine's throat, he climbed onto the bed. Jasmine scooted over, giving his large body precedence. His dick bobbed and Sasha whimpered in expectation.

"So glad you're home," Sasha said.

Terry carefully placed his thumb and fingers on the sides of her neck. She relaxed under him.

"Jasmine, I think it's time for you to go home," he said.

Sasha blinked twice and her eyes darted over to Jasmine, disappointed that he didn't want their favorite voyeur staying for their lovemaking.

"Now, Jasmine."

Jasmine quickly left the room. They heard her scramble into her clothes and leave the apartment.

"What's wrong?"

He liked the hesitant tone in her voice. It threw her off.

"Do you enjoy living here with me, Sasha?"

She tried to sit up. He held her down by the throat. Still gentle, but gripped tight enough to let her know she wasn't getting up. Pushing his tip into her, she sucked in a breath and he squeezed the sides of her neck, careful to count out the seconds she could handle before easing the pressure. The opening of her pussy throbbed around him. He slowly pushed in, each inch parting her slippery walls. Jasmine made Sasha frothy and wide open for him. He stopped and squeezed her neck again, giving shallow thrusts and counting to her limit before releasing the controlled grip.

"Can we keep going? Do you need a break?"

"No Daddy, I can take it a little more. I'll tap you when to stop."

He pushed in to her limit, thick and heavy. Her pussy lips looked like a swollen vise around his girth, with the last of his inches unable to go in. Each time he pushed forward or pulled back, she gripped him with her walls, giving him the friction he dreamed about all weekend waiting to come home.

He began fucking her slowly, his hand clamped on her neck.

"Ready?"

She nodded and he pressed his fingers in again with gentle pressure, heightening her pleasure. Her eyes went glassy with lust. Although he choked her with their breath play, her pussy choked his dick and he released her neck to rock his hips into her with a steady rhythm.

"You feel so fucking good…taking care of Daddy's dick…"

He started kissing her, thrusting his tongue in her mouth, letting hers slide against his until the erotic sensation of their lips feeling raw and sensitive to the connection overtook him. Kissing her was life itself. He pulled back from her, still stretching her pussy, but not pumping into her.

"Roderick called me about the cops being here again. There was a warning notice on the door. What do you have to say about that?"

Her eyes widened, and she bit her bottom lip.

"How come you didn't tell me before I left about having people over here?"

"It was impromptu. A few friends, and then…a few more friends of friends…it was a wine and cheese thing and then…the cops showed up."

Terry pulled all the way out of her and left the bed.

"Do we have to talk about this now? Can we finish this and talk later?"

She breathed heavily, upset that his dick wasn't plowing her.

"What do you think will happen if I get another notice?"

She pressed her lips together for a second.

"It won't happen again. I promise."

"You said that last time two weeks ago."

"You won't have to worry. If I want to have a gathering again, I'll do it at Jasmine's. Please, Terry, don't be upset."

"What do I like more than anything at home?"

His hard dick pointed toward her and Sasha's eyes kept losing track of his face by focusing on his erection she wanted back in her guts.

"Peace and calm."

"My neighbor shouldn't be calling me about you. That means it disturbed him, too, and probably a lot of other people. If I get a third notice, the manager will break my lease. You know what that means? He can ask me to move. I picked this complex because it's close to my job. The job that takes care of you, and allows you to be my good girl. You've put our housing in jeopardy. Before I left for work, you were acting out and I didn't have time to really put you in your place. I've been super busy this past month and I think I've been letting you get away with too much. But I'm going to get back to proper discipline. No physical contact at all."

Her mouth dropped open.

"What?" she said.

"Spanking won't do this time. You don't get to have me until I think you get your behavior together."

He walked to his side of the bureau and pulled out lounging pants and a t-shirt. He strolled into the bathroom. She followed with panic in her eyes. He stretched his back and stood in front of the toilet. She reached for his dick to help him urinate, but he slapped her hand away.

"No," he said. "You don't even get to watch."

He arched an angry eyebrow, and she pouted. He ignored her breasts and the fat pussy he'd just been inside of that enticed him to cave.

"Out!"

She scuttled away like a little crab who sensed danger on sand.

He relieved himself and changed into his house clothes.

"I would like my dinner in half an hour," he called out.

He went into the spare bedroom where he set up a mini-gym and desktop computer. He checked sports updates before opening a porn app. His balls ached wanting to cum inside Sasha, but he searched for Black women masturbating and found one using a vibrator with large pussy lips that excited him. Fisting himself, he left the door open so Sasha could hear him and seethe. She slammed the kitchen cabinet doors and let some silverware clatter onto the table to show her anger at not getting his dick. He chuckled.

"Fix that attitude. This is your fault for being irresponsible," he called out.

His porn play pal had nice tits and a soft belly. He came into his hand.

"Your dinner is ready," Sasha called out.

He cleaned his hands in the bathroom and walked into the dining area with his mouth salivating. Smothered chicken and rice with French green beans drenched in garlic butter. Homemade and piping hot.

"This looks good, baby. Thank you."

He sat down and she sat across from him. They said grace together, and he stuffed his face, licking his fingers and complimenting her cooking. That perked her up, and yet she still stared at his chest in the tight T-shirt, and admired the sleeve tats.

He punished her for a month.

Sasha stayed on her A-game. Clean house. Clothes put away properly. Bed made so perfect that he could bounce a quarter on it. Uniforms pressed and already placed in his garment bag. She'd gone to the apartment manager and explained the situation with the loud party. Sasha claimed to be his house sitter who didn't know the rules about no loud noises after nine at night. Terry was pretty sure she jiggled her tits and flirted with the male manager. Her legs in some stiletto heels would do the trick easy. The manager actually ignored the second noise warning…and the first, clearing Terry's apartment record.

In bed, she suffered from wanting to curl under or around him, but he stayed on his side with his back to her. She knew better than to seek out Jasmine for respite. It wouldn't be a satisfying, playful romp when she yearned only for her man's affections. She thought it best to accept the dry spell.

Meals…impeccable.

Cocktails at the door…refreshing.

Terry slowly started showing her physical affection with a kiss on the cheek goodbye in the morning. He brought home flowers and gifts again with kisses on the forehead.

He ended her punishment by walking into the bathroom as she smoothed unscented body butter all over her naked body after a shower. She stared at him in the mirror as he stood behind her. He circled his hand around her throat, forcing her to turn her face to the side so he could kiss her.

Sasha moaned into his mouth and broke into tears of joy.

"I won't disappoint you gain," she whispered into his mouth.

"That's all I want from you, baby. Follow my rules."

He continued kissing her, lifting those glorious breasts.

"Will you fuck me now?" she pleaded.

"Of course."

Sasha whimpered at the deep rasp of his morning voice. She leaned forward, and he entered her. Cupping her breasts, he fucked her hard and fast. Her pussy squelched, and she cried, her tears of happiness wetting her face.

"I'm sorry, Daddy…sorry, Daddy…sorry, Daddy…!"

"Pussy so fucking good…I missed these big titties…tight pussy…oh babygirl…fuck Daddy's dick!"

He studied her expression in the mirror.

"Want Daddy to punish this pussy?"

"Yes!"

"Take this dick then…take it…take it babygirl…oh you're taking it deep…oh shit! Oh, shit!"

She still couldn't take him in all the way, but it truly felt like he got in deeper than he'd been before. Her eyes looked up to the ceiling, then rolled back. She squirted everywhere, soaking his dick.

He ejaculated hard enough to make him lift onto his toes. He dropped to his knees to smother his face in her ass and pussy, wanting to feel the back rush of his cum dripping out of her.

His bladder poked at him. He drank an extra glass of water for the occasion.

"Get in the tub, baby," he said.

Sasha yelped with excited anticipation. She climbed into the tub and he handed her a towel that she folded as a knee cushion. Once she was comfortable, he rested his balls on her mouth and she sucked them while playing with her clit and pussy lips.

"Let me hear that wet pussy, Sasha."

She flicked her clit and used her three middle fingers. He stared down at her, reaching for a heavy breast.

"You ready, baby?"

She hummed with his nuts in her mouth.

"You'll be my dirty little slut? Huh, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy…yes, I'll be your dirty little slut…"

"Oh, let me hear that pussy talk, Sasha!"

Sasha whimpered, and her tone was on the edge.

"Daddy's 'bout to give you what you want…get ready…oh…get ready…"

"I'm still your good girl!"

Her tongue slid up and down the underside of his dick, her words warm on his skin.

"Sasha…baby…fuck…dirty little slut letting me do whatever I want!"

Terry took a step back, and Sasha kept pleasuring her pussy. She tilted her head back. A hot stream of urine flew out of him and splashed all over her breasts. Holding his release for a longer period made the sensation of voiding his bladder sweeter. It felt almost as good as an orgasm soaking her.

Sasha's glassy eyes looked far away. She was in her pleasure zone, cumming so hard she couldn't even speak anymore. He drained himself all over her tits, and she slumped back with loud pants.

"Goddamn, that was fucking good!" he shouted to the ceiling.

His aftercare was tender with her.

He used the shower nozzle to rinse her off first before he cleaned her with honeysuckle body wash. Helping her stand up, he rubbed her vulva, thighs and backside, then lathered up her tits. He rinsed her off, then stuck the nozzle back up high and joined her in the shower for a long rinse with hotter water. They kissed as heat steamed around them, his arms cradling her.

"I don't like punishing you like that. It hurt me not to touch you for a month, baby," he hummed in her ear.

She hugged him tight.

Back in their bedroom, they made slow love on the bed. She rode him and he praised her…worshipped her body.

"I love you, Sasha."

"I love you, too, Terry. I want to make you happy."

"I want to make you happy every day. You're really the boss of me. Everything I do is for you."

"I know. I'm yours, Daddy. Let me take care of this dick."

He held his legs wide open, and she rode him backward, perched between his thighs at an angle. He let her slide up and down to the depths she could take and watched her pussy work his length. She slid back to sit on his face, where he slathered her folds with a wide, wet tongue.

They finished with him on top of her, declaring his undying love. He came all over her breasts, and hugged her tight under the covers, playing with her nipples and making plans for their future.

Terry cooked them a late brunch and cleaned the kitchen himself. Sasha washed clothes and looked up a movie for them to go see. All was well until he went to his sock drawer and found unmatched pairs with underwear mixed in.

"Sasha!"

She sauntered in, carrying one of his belts folded in her hand.

"Shall I assume the position?" she teased.

"Once a brat, always a brat," he said.

He chased Sasha around the room until he caught her, snatching the belt away and pushing her down on his lap.

Terry taught her a new lesson.

And, of course, she loved it.

Tag List:

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[koofleur]

sweetener

details ;

pairing: navy officer!jungkook, teacher!oc summary: when he surprises you on christmas type: drabble wc: 1.1k

۶ৎ ♡ 국 ; nin's diary: hey guys, first post in here! would mean a lot if you showed some love! i had an account before, @/kookoomyboy which got terminated for some reason i still haven't gotten clarification about :( ps: this was a requested piece from when i was there.

“dada! look what i drew for you!”

the little girl’s giggle melts in your ears as soon as you step out of the classroom to drop her off. ara, your brother jin’s daughter was such a bubbly child, closely resembling her dad’s and mom’s soft features.

“jin, hi” you waved at him, nudging ara to her dad as she scurried towards jin’s open arms.

“hi, oh my baby who is this handsome man you’ve drawn right here” he sweetly appreciates his cherubic daughter, cradled in his arms, your smile widens seeing your brother so happy.

“ara, would you draw one for me as well?” you coo into her ears, petting the silkiness of baby hair that is tied up in a cute ponytail.

“yes auntie! i’m going to draw one with uncle jungkook and you!” she pats onto her bag as it clinks with all the colorful pens and papers stuffed inside.

“oh sweetie auntie would love that!” your mind, though, wanders off to jungkook, who is probably in the middle of the vast ocean, working for his country, making everyone proud.

but you sure miss your high school sweetheart, the black haired doe-eyed boy you met years ago, who’s now your husband. 

“__, if you ever feel alone, maybe i can drop ara off at yours sometime so we can getaway a little you know.” he winks lightly at ara’s mom, seated in the car, oblivious to the snarky comment he just made.

“i would love to have ara over, but not this christmas.” your lips curved into a smile.

“jungkook will be home on the 25th, tomorrow. though it’s late, i can still have him with me for a whole month!” you felt like a schoolgirl again, one who is head over heels for that one boy.

“finally that little dork finds time to spend with his wife. literally after dating for almost half of your lives and even marrying you he’s off in the middle of the sea, visiting once in a while like santa.”

jin’s brotherly instincts make you laugh as you shake your head

“i’m proud of him, jin. and i can wait, work here at the kindergarten and even play with ara and would still not feel alone because i know he’s with me everytime.” you say, matter-of-factly as jin mocks you again for acting like a teenager (as if he’s any better), but you didn’t mind, because these fleeting moments of thinking about your husband made you feel alive each time.

“okay then, it’s already evening! see you at christmas dinner tomorrow, and you better come with jungkook.” he “threatens”, making you helpless and thus ushered him to the driver’s seat, waving goodbye to ara, as you walk back to your own car, ending the day’s work at the kindergarten earlier than usual, to start christmas preparations.

you couldn’t wait to add final touches to the tree, and to countdown until the time jungkook comes home, when it would ultimately feel like one.

———

“that’s perfect!” your best friend jiah chimes through the phone, as you proudly show off the apple crumble recipe you were trying to replicate.

“it’s a bit too sweet for my liking though, but jungkook would surely love it.”

“yeah yeah lovergirl, isn’t your nice man home yet?” jiah asks as she is engaged in decorating her tree, busily shuffling through a multitude of gift boxes lying in front of her.

“he’ll only be here tomorrow, but before our usual dinner anyways.” you put the dish away in the refrigerator.

“okay then, i have to put up the star now, it’s long overdue.” you bid goodbye to jiah, sending her a pouty flying kiss, receiving nothing but an eye roll in return. typical.

picking up the gold and red star laying on the centre table, you heave a deep breath before trying to reach the top of the dark forest green christmas tree, already decorated.

after much struggle, but efforts in vain, your short figure hurries to the store room in search of a wooden stool stacked away somewhere.

10 minutes passed, as your defeated form emerges from the store room and leans against the door, high on contemplation as to how you’d accomplish this mission.

“never back down, angel.” you feel your senses coming alive, hearing a voice so familiar, a mix of aftershave and bleu de chanel ringing in your nose, a pair of sturdy arms wrapping around your waist lifting you up to bring you eye-to-eye with the top of the tree, holding you steely on the broad shoulder.

you had him memorized at this point. it was jungkook. his white uniform clad body, fit and firm, fluffy black hair that brushed against your exposed waist through the flimsy material of the red tank top wrapping around your figure.

say, you’ve taken his words in, quietly leaning forward, placing the star oh so perfectly on the tree, pleasantly but not obviously surprised as you wanted to tease him for a while longer. you knew he’d come to you, even if a day earlier than informed and spend time with you like this. and display of strength? you were a sucker for that, only from the man who’d not let a scar touch your body when he had you close.

he brought you down from his shoulder, immediately towering your frame, eyes finally meeting after almost an year.

“hi” he sweetly muses, making your heart topple over and above.

“hi” you smile, looking up at him.

“can i kiss you?” 15 years of togetherness and here he is, asking you for consent. oh he’s your man, jacked and kind. not the boy you knew years ago.

“please do”

his words moved into you as he presses a sweet peck onto your lips.

a feather touch, makes you yearn for more.

a moment.

coming back up to look into your orbs for a second, he dives back in, to your petals, like a man starved. foreheads pressed together, relishing the minute the both of you get engrossed into the kiss. he dips down, and learns you in a way no other can. pulling you closer it seemed like he was going to kiss you until christmas eve. you wouldn’t mind that.

“merry christmas, darling.” he whispers, voice hoarse and warm on the cold winter day.

“i missed you, love. merry christmas.” you kiss his nose in response, as he scrunches them. hands smoothing through the locks of your hair, he stares at you for a minute.

“i’ve made your apple crumbles, extra sweet this time though.” your eyes search his, as he chuckles.

“i think i’d want something just a wee bit more delightful than the desert you made, though.” 

his eyes gleam in mischief, placing you on his lap, cradling you close to his chest, hands ran on it’s own accord, exploring his broad shoulders.

“then let me be your sweetener, babe.”

[bnyf]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ#1 crush ♡

╭﹕୨୧﹒yandere male elf x female human reader ♡

┊ warnings : yandere content and themes, unhealthy behaviors, relationship and relationship dynamic, sexual content, noncon, kidnapping, size difference, strange dynamic.

╰﹕୨୧﹒authoress note : after receiving some unwanted but much needed criticism i've tried my hand at writing a little better and fixing errors. i apologize in advance if there's any errors or gaps in my writing, i also apologize for the messed up story that this is. ik some people don't like the way i write the reader but like??? idgaf sorry anyways other than that, i hope you guys enjoy, please read the warnings and proceed with caution <3 i would also like to say that this post is kinda inspired by a very popular yandere artist on here with a male elf oc

what a treacherous fate had befallen on a vitreous soul such as yourself.

it truly is unfortunate, you're so unlucky. how could your luck have run so low? to think, this everyday mundane routine would now be your nightmarish reality was stomach wrenching. you never did anything to deserve this, this was simply some sort of faulty by the gods, right? there's no way this is your horrible ending. no way.

you sobbed and yet... he hummed and chastised you by smacking your puffy clitorous.

it's always like this, it's been like this for...? a while now apparently. you've completely lost track of time. maybe a month or so if you're playing the guessing game.

well, if it wasn't obvious already, you've been taken hostage by an insane elven prince. probably the most insanely angelic, good-looking, prettiest and sick minded male you've ever met.

he really needs professional help. something that he can more than afford considering his house is almost made of gold, his herculean physique adored and draped only with the most expensive clothes, jewels, silks, soaps and scented creams and perfumes. his perfume, so extravagant, worth more than your vital organs all put together. that was the part you admired about elven people, they are so intelligent, so ahead of humans.

but to him? therapy is cheap and free! you're the first ever human he's laid eyes on and that's all he really needs. and really, you're the one to blame for his actions. it's all you. so you should take responsibility, right?

he's sought out humans before, trying to break the barrier between the two worlds and connect with them. he was damn near obsessed with coming into contact with the human realm and ruling over them like a god despite the fact that any sort of magic that threatens to break the barrier and connect the realms or offer passage through the two realms is absolutely forbidden. this is such a serious offense that if caught violating, can lead to public execution.

but your little caregiver did not! give one flying hoot at all, nor did the rules really even apply to royals as the royals participated in a lot of magical corruption and kept it all on the low.

so what a surprise! not really that he'd succeed in his conquest. not entirely since he'd only manage to bring one human to the elven realm, but now he knows for sure he's making great progress. and not only succeed in getting a nitty gritty palms on any human, but such a cute little human female like yourself.

humans are a lot more fragile, smaller, weaker, lesser intelligent beings, almost like a sub species from elves. so that's why you must be taken care of with so much extra love and attentiveness. all this was his reasoning for treating you like a minor being, enabling you and excuses for his weird kinks.

there was no way you'd ever dream of over powering him, not when a large veiny arm wrapped so tightly around your wrists, holding it behind your back, and the other with it's slender long digits effortlessly reaching your g spot.

it was 'bath time' or whatever, which called for a thorough inspection and cleanse. or just another excuse to use your body to his likings.

his tongue lap at your folds and clit, moaning in delight and relishing in all your juices spraying him. his voice muffled by your pussy, making wet sounds as he attempts to praise your gorgeous body: all of which sounds like incohesive unhinged, obsessive rambling of course.

if you ignore this scene and focus on other small things around you maybe you can, somewhat imagine yourself having a luxurious warm bath in the tub, with flowers and scented stuff in the water, scented candles creating a relaxing atmosphere, marvelous one-sided glass view... maybe not the one-sided glass view that's actually a little too scary to think about but yeah, you're having a nice little bath.

the most relaxing bath in the most prettiest and pearliest tiled bathroom you've ever been in.

your insides contorts though and you find yourself coming again undone on those perfectly manicured fingers of his, messing up his perfect face with your essence. your voice is loud and echoes throughout the bathroom, all the way into the bedroom and closet but never enough to each anyone's ears as he's casted multiple protective barrier spells to keep your presence unknown from other elven people. you've came like 5 times already and he won't let you rest, getting high off your pussy juices.

"poor baby, you look so tired, shhh don't worry~ mama will take care of everything, just relax and be good for me, okay? it'll all be over soon, my darling ^ mama will get you all cleaned up and dressed, right after this..." you wish you had the energy to welp out an 'ewwwwww da fuck?!' right about now but you were so weak and constantly sedated. you felt helpless as his bulbous tip hits your pussy, rubbing it back and forth to coat and lubricate himself with your juices. he leisurely teases, making your hole spasm and grasp around nothing, your body reacting in a lovely manner to his advances.

he licks his lips, only putting the tip in before quickly pulling back out. taking his time cause he wants to drive you insane like him. and luckily for him, his mind games always work so well.

his precum leaking and smearing you in the process as he rubs his whole length, measuring your pelvic area with his cock length and soon putting it in to see how far it'll actually go.

you almost blacked out. even though he prepped you well for this it still stings, he's just too big. and you? way too tight, squeezing him like you want every last drop of his seed, has him shivering and grunting in the process.

"fck- you're so tight, baby ngh~"

has him seeing stars and by the time he's balls deep in you and hitting the tip of your womb, you're a drooling and moaning mess. can't even control his obsessive thoughts from spilling out his mouth, he immediately gets to work on those hips too like a wild animal, only sparing a few seconds to sloppily kiss you and slap your thick behind.

it only takes a few minutes before he breaks his load inside you and shifts you into another position, manhandling you and roughing you up like a meat toilet, all for his own enjoyment and pleasure.

his long silky hair tickling your skin. when you think about it, he's so masculine with many feminine traits too, like the perfect balance actually and it is to be expected from an elf. he always wants to be in control, always wants to take care of you like a god watching over his creation. it sorta overlaps with him calling himself your mama but it makes sense in a way. he doesn't see himself as a woman in any sort of way, he just wants unrestricted authority over you.

your tears stream down your cheeks which he licks away and kisses, it only hurts your head trying to rationalize this or even understand it, your vision goes all blurry and for the next few rounds, your in and out of consciousness while being filled.

when you're awake again, you're draped in silk half naked and powdered up, you feel your caretakers strong arms wrapped around you, spooning you as rubs circles into your skin. he's also half naked with nothing but a cloth draped around himself. you both lay on a soft layered bed with many squishy pillows and blankies. fruits, steam veggies and grilled meat laid out on a silver tray for you to enjoy, though your stomach was filled with his cum.

[elodieunderglass]

As long as we're talking about Killie's family, could you explain why Killie's father married a horrible English witch? I can't decide if it's something as simple as "they love each other" or some arcane horseworld political dynamic. Or both.

(In reference to Killie the jockey OC and his disastrous family)

Oh it’s BOTH. And what do you mean? arcane horse-based power games ARE love, aren’t they? Multidimensional politics involving the least well-adjusted humans and horses on the planet, in the context of a failing-but-still-absurdly-financially-powerful competitive sport, is how you get married. Most people construct a family unit to breed exquisitely tiny jockey babies to further their ambitions of a mad dynasty. Don’t they?

That Woman is a bit of a mystery. She shares a lot with my own mom. I think it’s genuinely surprising that their mother let their father have such a free hand with the children’s names - she agreed to go with the paternal trend of naming their generations all with the same letter, although this may have appealed to her grief at not being able to name them like racehorses Tory sense of orderliness, heritage and control. But then they do mostly have Irish names, apart from her favourite. Maybe she just didn’t care much. Or sensed the leverage it would give her over her husband. Or maybe they all have really absurd middle names that are an act of English colonial violence. Would getting inside her head to find out risk making us worse people? Isn’t that what Twitter people are afraid of?

Because I am brave, I can say (unpacking what my own parents left me with, and looking with fond bewilderment on my children) that most people do not marry with the intention of creating fucked-up children. And the generations that gave rise to us - doing their best, making mixed choices, full of greyness and complexity - fell to trauma and tragedy that is our gift to decline. To hold up a hand, name the worst bits, and stop them passing on - when it’s in your power - is the duty of every human (with/without biological kids of their own). And yet I do have a bit of compassion for the people who came before, whom i never willingly speak to, whom i process through little fictional characters that I shake in a jar. We can break many chains, and some remain unbroken, and in old photos we can see something of what we had in common.

Oh, and this poem is about the twins. But I don’t know which one.

[clockwayswrites]

Annalise&Tim, Magenta, Solstice, wood fire @roanawayspoons

Annalise is an OC from my fic City Pigeons Bleed Green who showed up briefly. This is an AU where she came to Bruce right away and lived. Uh, sorry that Tim is only dubiously present... but this got in my head.

“Hello, Bruce,” Annalise called from the sitting room that she favored. It was a slightly smaller one than the family room that the would gather in, but she always said that she liked how cozy and warm it was. The Manor, as old as it was, did tend to have a chill to it that would linger in the colder months.

Bruce generally dealt with the permanent cold by wearing warm, turtleneck sweaters and Dick simply never seemed to get cold. Helena liked to steal Bruce’s sweaters, for all that they came pooled around her feet. Annalise, though, seemed to struggle with getting warm with her poor circulation. (Bruce also harbored a fear that the complications around Helena’s birth had caused permanent harm to Annalise, such as the constant fatigue that she seemed to suffer.)

The warm, golden light of the fire spilled out of the half open door to the room and it felt like coming home to step into it. He leaned against the door frame with a smile “Hello, Lise.”

“Alright day at work?” she asked as she stuck her needle in the cross-stitch that she she had been working on.

There was a fifty-fifty chance that it contained a cuss that would make Alfred tsk at her.

“Mm, holiday bonuses went out today, so everyone was in a good mood.”

“Oh, I imagine,” she said with a smile.

The kid—more a pile of blankets and flash of black hair than anything else—who was asleep against her leg shifted. She carded her delicately painted nails through their hair.

“Is one of our sick?”

Annalise hummed in confirmation. “Poor thing was chilled to the bone.”

“That—”

“B! You’re home!” Dick called.

Bruce barely had time to swing around and catch him as he flung himself over the edge of the stare rail and at Bruce’s chest. At sixteen Dick was big enough to make Bruce have to brace himself to catch him. One of these days, Bruce knew he was going to get hurt doing this (but that would hardly stop him, not when his oldest still wanted hugs).

“Hey chum,” Bruce said as he swung Dick around and into the room and set him down. Not Dick who was sick then, which would save the manor a lot of whining. “How was your last day of school?”

“Super boring. We didn’t even do anything! I don’t know why we had to go!” Dick said in a rush.

“He also got, and ate, several candy canes,” Annalise added with a little smile.

“Also that,” Dick agreed.

Bruce tried not to laugh. “Well then it wasn’t all bad, was it. Did you save one for your sister?”

“I did, but she got even more than me! Not that she ate all of them, she’s saving them,” Dick said, like it was the most ridiculous thing that he had ever heard.

“Well, if she’s not feeling we—”

“Daddy!”

Bruce swung just in time to catch his daughter, who of course had also taken to flinging herself at him ever since Dick had started training her in gymnastics this year. The catch was a little fumbled as Bruce spun back to the room and whoever it was that was sleeping on the couch.

“Who—”

“Timothy Drake from next door,” his wife explained softly and with a little smile on her face that Bruce knew spelled trouble for him. Her fingers were still carding through the child’s hair. “Did you know that he’s all alone over in that monstrosity of a house? Poor baby walked over here, in the cold, completely drenched because a pipe had burst in the kitchen. It burst because the heat had gone out and his parents wouldn’t answer his calls about needing their approval for a new furnace. In December. He wanted to know if we had a wrench so that he could shut the water main off.”

Purposefully, Bruce relaxed his hold on Helena so that he didn’t squeeze her too hard at hearing all that. “I see.”

“Yes,” Annalise said. “So I brought him inside, made sure he got warm, and then we had some tea and cookies. I don’t intend to send him back to that house.”

“Of course not, it’s freezing.”

“Ever.”

“…I’ll call our lawyers up then.”

[vibelladonna]

❛ 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝒷𝒶𝓇𝒾 ❜ 𝜗𝜚 𝑔𝑒𝑜 𝓍 𝑔𝓃!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: You and Geo have always been so close that sometimes you wonder if there’s an unspoken thing between you two. Are you just really good friends? Or is there something deeper neither of you is willing to say out loud? Of course, you could always just ask him. That would be the normal thing to do.

Instead, fate—or your own questionable choices—ties you to a much more hands-on way of figuring it out. So, is this just another weird chapter in your situationship or the moment that finally forces you both to admit the truth?  

Only one way to find out.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉: Sooo, I stumbled across a header picture by @mint0hhh on Twitter, then commented, "HELP, I’M WRITING A FANFIC ABOUT THIS!" …except I never actually did. So a promise is a promise; I made this fanfic EXTRA LONG, so even though I’m very late—here it is.

Also, I included @alienfreak124 OC, Perssila Keithens as the reader’s friend and Crowe’s girlfriend. Sorry, not sorry to the Crowe fans. I HAVE officially switched sides to the tall, silent type.

Geo stole my heart~

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: geo x reader, friends to lovers, slow burn (but with tension), mutual pining but make it stupid, light bondage, small smut part, awkward intimacy, geo is soft (but not really), and perusal absolutely is done with you.

No one really knows Geo. 

People just accept his existence as a natural phenomenon. He’s there, he does things, he’s filthy rich for some reason, and he knows how to handle a weapon with the kind of ease that makes you wonder if he was trained in a secret underground assassin program as a child. 

No one dares to get on his bad side. No one knows his hobbies. No one knows his personality. No one knows anything.  

Except you.  

For some reason, you made the cut. Congratulations. You’re one of exactly two people in Geo’s life that he actually likes. Maybe not in front of Crowe because, let's be real, he plays favorites, but it’s pretty damn close. 

To this day, you’re still baffled by the fact that when you casually admitted you liked being around him, he just... agreed. Like, straight-up nodded and went, “Same.” No hesitation. No sarcasm. Just acceptance.  

Which was shocking, because Geo does not, under any circumstances, like people. He barely tolerates society. 

The only reason he’s slightly more bearable now is because of Crowe, his first friend—who, let’s be honest, probably deserves a medal for putting up with his cryptic nonsense for so long. But let’s rewind—why did Geo allow you to be around him? According to him, you’re "interesting." Which is bullshit, because compared to his lifestyle, you’re about as interesting as a blank piece of paper.  

See, there’s this saying: the quietest people have the weirdest interests.

And oh boy, does Geo live up to that. Over time, you’ve picked up on his oddly specific, borderline ancient-man hobbies: potted plants—a whole collection, opera music—who even listens to that willingly? Theatre—he could quote Shakespeare in his sleep, cats—makes sense, and reptiles—also made sense, but in a ‘he’s definitely plotting something’ way.  

Everything about this man screams, ‘I am a young adult but my soul is a retired professor who sits in a leather armchair and contemplates the meaning of life.’ And yet, despite his old-as-hell interests, his quiet judgmental stares, and the fact that he could probably take you out in 0.3 seconds if he wanted to—you still love him.  

Old-ass hobbies and all.

As time went on, you started noticing something about Geo—most of his hobbies, the ones he actually lets you see, seem to be deeply tied to his Japanese culture.

Like, ridiculously tied to it.

The way he listens to opera music when he’s focusing? Turns out it’s specifically Japanese opera. His appreciation for theatre? Kabuki and Noh. Even the way he arranges his potted plants—it’s not just some random aesthetic choice, it’s done with an almost ritualistic precision that makes you wonder if this man has secretly mastered the art of bonsai pruning in his free time.

But here’s the thing—Geo never talks about his family. Like, ever.

And when someone does bring it up?

He effortlessly sidesteps the conversation like he’s dodging arrows in slow motion. The man could be the heir to some untouchable, secretive empire, and no one would ever know because he simply refuses to acknowledge it. Despite being filthy rich, he lives like someone who’s been independent his whole life—fully in control, fully detached.

No explanations.

No unnecessary details.

No personal history.

And, well… you’re curious.

Not in a creepy way—okay, maybe a little—but more in the "I am slowly realizing how little I actually know about my closest friend who, by all logic, should have kicked me out of his life by now, yet for some reason tolerates my presence despite allegedly hating people" kind of way.

It’s been picking at your brain for a while now, but there was no one you could talk to about it without sounding weird. Who were you gonna ask? Crowe?

Absolutely not.

Because Crowe—your usual go-to source for all things Geo—has been utterly, completely, and frustratingly useless. Not in a mean way, of course. No, he refuses to tell you anything in the most annoyingly polite way possible.

"Oh, sorry, can’t talk—buried in paperwork." "Ah, you know how it is—so much to do, so little time!" "Oh wow, would you look at that? Another report to file!"

Like Sir. Just say no and move on. At this point, you’re convinced the paperwork is a myth—just an excuse so he doesn’t have to answer any questions. 

Which is how you found yourself out at a chill bar, drinks in hand, with the one person who might actually give you answers—Perssila Keithens.

The manic pixie dream girl. The alternative-broke-college-student-in-heavy-debt. And quite possibly the coolest and best girlfriend Crowe has ever had.

Actually, scratch that. She’s not just his coolest girlfriend—she’s one of the coolest people you know, period.

You adore her.

Perssila and Crowe were the first people to help you when you ended up in the Low-Class building, and honestly? You might not have survived that transition without them.

They made it easier.

Better.

And while Crowe is the reliable, big-brother type, Perssila is the type of person who somehow always knows exactly what to say—whether it’s life advice, existential ramblings, or just some insane conspiracy theory that somehow sounds plausible when she says it.  

Need life advice? She’s got you.

Existential ramblings at 2 AM? She’s down.

Random conspiracy theories? She makes them sound weirdly plausible.

And right now? You need help. If anyone could help you figure out the absolute mystery that is Geo, it was her.

You take a slow, contemplative sip of the deep red wine in your hand, watching Perssila as she processes everything you just dumped onto her.

She stares at you. Blinks once.

Tilts her head. Opens her mouth—closes it. Squints.

Then, without warning, she snorts—an ugly, loud snort that startles the guy sitting at the table behind her.

And then she loses it. Like, full-on wheezing, slapping the table, looking like she just heard the funniest thing in the entire world.

“Oh my God,” she chokes out between gasps, “you’re—you’re stalking him.”

You nearly choke on your wine. “What?! No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!” she howls, wiping tears from her eyes. “You’re out here piecing together this man’s entire existence like you’re some detective in a slow-burn mystery novel, and for what? Because he likes plants and doesn’t trauma-dump on you?”

You huff, crossing your arms. “I barely know anything about him!”

“Oh, boo-hoo!” Perssila mimics fake crying, dramatically dabbing at imaginary tears. “You poor thing, your filthy rich, ridiculously handsome, archery-prodigy friend won’t trauma bond with you. How tragic.”

You groan, letting your head fall back. “This is serious, Perssila.”

“Is it?” she shoots back, grinning like the devil. “Or do you just have a little crush on Mr. Mysterious?”

You almost drop your wine glass. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t you ‘excuse me’ me,” she smirks, leaning in. “I’ve seen this before. The accidental obsession, the need to figure him out, the sudden interest in his culture like you’re about to write an essay on it—classic pining.”

You scowl. “I do not have a crush on Geo.”

“Uh-huh.” She takes a slow, smug sip of her drink. “And I totally don’t owe six months of rent.”

“Perssila.”

“I’m just saying!” she grins, propping her chin up with her hand. “If you wanna get all up in his business, just ask him out already. You’d get answers and possibly a rich boyfriend. Win-win.”

You groan, dramatically slumping forward. “I hate you.”

“No, you love me,” she sing-songs, swirling her drink. “And you love Geo, too. It’s okay. You’re in a safe space.” Perssila is still grinning like she just won the lottery at your expense when you sigh and swirl the wine in your glass.

"First of all, I don't love Geo. Second of all, Crowe is also lowkey rich. You know that, right? He was in high society before he got kicked out—same as Geo."

Perssila snorts and leans back in her chair, balancing on the two back legs like she has no regard for gravity or her spinal cord. 

"Yeah, but Crowe acts like it. You can tell he grew up rich. Man’s got that ‘I was raised with money but still humble enough to not be a complete dick’ energy. Geo, though? Geo acts like he just spawned into existence one day with a full bank account and a bow."

You exhale sharply through your nose. "Okay, but seriously—you know anything about Geo's past? I feel like Crowe knows, but he just refuses to tell me. Like, I get it—privacy and all that—but it’s weird how little anyone knows about this guy."

Perssila tilts her head, tapping her chin. "Mmm... Well. Yeah. I know a little."

You nearly choke on your drink. "Are you serious?”

"Why do you think I let you buy me this wine?" she says, smirking. You narrow your eyes. "That was not the deal."

"It is now," she shrugs, taking a slow, smug sip. "Anyway," she continues, resting an elbow on the table, "Geo’s the same as Crowe. Formerly ranked as High Class—was probably on his way to being untouchable, too. But then there was this incident—a near accident or something—and Subaru’s status plummeted. Next thing you know, he's been transferred down to the Low-Class building, and boom—mystery man appears."

You sighed, listening, "Okay and…?"

She rolled her eyes at you. "And my point is—dude went from being top of the world to low-tier real quick. So yeah, it makes sense why he keeps to himself. Probably doesn’t want people prying into his past. Which, by the way—" she levels you with an amused look, "—is exactly what you're trying to do."

You groan, sinking into your chair.

"I just want to understand him."

Perssila snickers. "Yeah. That’s what they all say before they fall madly in love." You consider throwing your entire glass of wine at her.

Just for a second, anyway. Perssila twirls her wine glass between her fingers, watching you with the kind of smirk that suggests she’s having the time of her life watching you suffer.

"Look," she says finally, leaning forward. "If you’re that curious, why not just hang out with him more? I mean just go over his place, bothering him about Japanese culture of all things—might as well keep the momentum going."

You shoot her a dry look. "Bothering?"

She grins. "Annoying. Pestering. Loitering in his presence like a cat that refuses to be kicked out—take your pick."

You take a long, long sip of wine, debating whether or not it's worth the effort to argue. Spoiler: It’s not.

Perssila props her chin on her hand, watching you with an unreadable expression. "But honestly? I think he might actually be more willing to talk if it’s you."

You blink. "…What?"

She gestures vaguely. "I mean, I’ve seen the way he acts around you. The way he actually responds instead of just ignoring people into oblivion. He listens to you. He pays attention to you. You think I don’t notice the way his eyes flick over when you’re talking? Like he’s actually engaged?"

You scoff. "He insults me half the time."

"Yeah, but in a constructive way," she says, dead serious.

"What does that even mean?"

Perssila shrugs. "I dunno, man. He doesn’t tolerate anyone unless he has to, but you? You’re like this weird exception. He puts up with you—voluntarily. That’s gotta mean something."

You stare at her, processing. "…So what, you think if I just keep hanging out with him, he’s gonna start spilling all his secrets?"

She smirks. "I think if anyone’s gonna get him to talk, it’s you."

You squint at her. "You’re saying this. You, who just five minutes ago was laughing at me for giving a single shit about this man’s life."

Perssila grins, sipping her wine. "Yeah, but now I’m having fun watching you spiral."

You groan, slumping onto the table. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t," she sing-songs.

You do not dignify that with a response. But as much as you hate to admit it… She might have a point.

You’ve spent most of your time around him, yet most of what you know about him has been pieced together through sheer observation, like you’re some amateur detective tailing a particularly secretive suspect. 

Sure, you’ve figured out some things—his absurd wealth, his love for bow and arrow, his absolute refusal to react to most human emotions—but beyond that? The man is practically a ghost.  

So one day, curiosity gets the better of you. Instead of coming at him with a grand interrogation plan—because, let’s be honest, he’d shut that down immediately, you decide to start small. Real casual. Real low-stakes. Just like what Perssila said. 

"Hey, Geo, can you teach me more about Japanese culture?"  

You brace yourself. You expect something—a deadpan stare, a scoff, maybe even a sarcastic ‘Oh sure, let me clear my nonexistent schedule for that.’ But no. Geo doesn’t even blink. He just looks at you, considers it for all of one second, and says—  

"Yeah, sure."

Just like that. No hesitation. No follow-up questions. No cryptic conditions or exasperated sighs. Just a casual agreement, like you’d asked him to hand you a napkin or something.  

And now, here you are.  

Dressed in a dark purple velvet top, the fabric rich and soft against your skin, its lace-trimmed V-neck adding just the right touch of elegance without feeling overdone. Sleeveless, effortlessly stylish, yet comfortable enough to move in.

Then there are the denim shorts. Not the stiff, awkwardly long kind that makes you look like you borrowed them from a lost tourist. Not the aggressively high-waisted ones that practically scream ‘I’m trying too hard’. No, these fit just right—cuffed at the hem, hugging your thighs in a way that’s both flattering and casual. The kind of fit that feels natural, like they were made just for you.  

To pull it all together, you pair them with deep purple tights, perfectly matching your top—subtle, yet polished. A balance between laid-back and put-together, casual but undeniably ‘intentional’.

You weren’t dressing to impress, per se. But if Geo happened to take notice? Well… that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

What...?

Don’t look at yourself like that.

It’s not like you're not here for a date or anything. It’s just a casual cultural lesson, nothing more. But let’s be honest—if you’re going to spend time with Geo, a man who looks effortlessly cool even while glaring at people, you might as well put in some effort.  

Now, getting to this moment? That was a whole other battle.  

Standing in front of his door now feels like a victory because getting into this building was a nightmare. 

First of all, Geo’s place isn’t just some high-end apartment. No, this place is fortified. Locked down tighter than a government facility. You half-expected to see snipers on the roof and retinal scanners at the entrance.  

The lobby alone had more security than an underground vault. And let’s talk about the front desk—the lady sitting there? She took one look at you, scanned you up and down like she was a human lie detector, and immediately hit you with:  

"Do you have an appointment?"

And, of course, because Geo is Geo, he wasn’t answering his damn phone.  

The first call? Ignored.  

The second? Straight to voicemail. 

By the third, you were starting to wonder if you should just accept defeat and go home before you got physically removed from the premises.  

“If you don’t have a resident escorting you in, I’ll have to ask you to leave—"  

Then, finally, Geo picked up. "Yeah?" 

"Geo, open the damn door before I get tackled by security."  

There was a pause. A long one. You could feel him debating whether or not he actually cared enough to let you in.  

Then, at last—the golden words. 

"You can come up." Click. 

No ‘sorry for the wait,’ no ‘I was busy,’ just those four words, and he hung up. And now, after making it through what felt like a high-security clearance checkpoint, here you are. Standing in front of his door, mentally preparing yourself for whatever the hell this cultural lesson is going to entail. 

The door swings open, and there stands Geo—towering as usual but looking noticeably different from his usual composed, almost untouchable self.  

Black sweatpants hanging low on his hips. A tight, black sleeveless workout shirt that clings just right to his broad chest and toned arms. And the finishing touch? A white towel lazily draped over his head like he’s some kind of retired warrior fresh out of battle or, more accurately, a guy who just took a shower and couldn’t be bothered to dry his purple-bluish hair properly.

"Hey," he says, voice deep and casual. "Sorry, I just got out of the shower."  

Your brain? Gone. 

Just poof, Out the window.  

Because first of all, when the hell did Geo have muscles like that? You always knew he was strong—archery class legend and all—but this is next-level. Broad shoulders. Defined arms. That tight shirt clinging like it was custom-made for him. The kind of physique that makes it very clear he doesn’t just train for precision—he trains to kill. 

And second of all—this man really just answered the door looking like this, completely unfazed, like he didn’t just hit you with a full visual assault. Meanwhile, you’re standing there, struggling to form a coherent thought, your brain short-circuiting like an old Windows XP system.  

Geo, of course, notices immediately. Because of course, he does. He quirks an eyebrow, giving you that unreadable, slightly judgmental stare of his. "...You good?"  

You blink rapidly, realizing you’ve been staring for way too long. "Huh? Oh—yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Totally normal. Yep."  

Geo doesn’t look convinced. "...You sure?"  

"Yes, absolutely, 100% fine, nothing weird happening here at all," you say, definitely not sounding like someone who just had an internal crisis over their best friend’s post-shower look.  

Geo shrugs, seemingly letting it go, before stepping aside with that effortless, unbothered grace of his. "Come in. Make sure to take your shoes off."  

The moment you step inside, it’s like entering another world—one that is so distinctly Geo that it almost feels surreal. His apartment is nothing like the cold, modern, minimalist penthouses you’d expect from a ridiculously wealthy guy. No obnoxious glass walls or sterile, personality-devoid furniture. Instead, it’s an elegant, traditional Japanese-style home, infused with warmth and quiet sophistication.  

Dark brown wooden floors stretch across the space, polished to perfection, so smooth they practically reflect the soft, ambient lighting. The walls are lined with beautifully crafted wooden panels, accented with shoji screens that subtly filter the sunlight, giving everything a serene, almost dreamlike quality. It smells faintly of cedar and something else—maybe incense? Or maybe it’s just the natural scent of the place, like old books and earth after rain.  

Everything is arranged with the precision of a man who either has way too much self-discipline or secretly enjoys interior design. The furniture is low to the ground—traditional tatami mats, a perfectly placed chabudai table in the center of the living room, and plush zaisu chairs without legs inviting guests to sit comfortably. A bonsai tree sits on a small wooden stand near the window, pruned so meticulously that you wouldn’t be surprised if Geo meditates over it in complete silence for hours at a time.  

And the plants—oh, the plants.  

Lush, thriving, impossibly well-cared-for. A variety of potted greenery lines the corners of the room, each one placed with almost suspicious intent as if they weren’t just decoration but rather a carefully curated collection. They look too healthy, their leaves glossy and vibrant.  

You narrow your eyes. 

This man definitely talks to them when no one’s around.

No dust. No clutter. Nothing out of place. It’s so perfectly maintained that you wouldn’t be surprised if he has a precise time schedule for cleaning, organizing, and making sure everything remains in its exact position. Even the books on the low wooden shelves are arranged with an almost obsessive precision—some in height order, others in a specific color gradient.  

It’s the kind of home that feels like it belongs to someone with complete control over every aspect of their life. Someone disciplined. Someone who doesn’t let chaos seep in.  

Geo doesn’t give you time to keep gawking at his ridiculously well-put-together apartment. Instead, he just gestures lazily toward the open sliding door leading to his private balcony.  

"You wanna sit outside? The weather’s nice."  

You nod, mostly because you're still trying to process the fact that you're even here in the first place. Geo invited you over. He didn’t scoff, roll his eyes, or hit you with the usual "Why do you care?" deflection. Nope. He straight-up agreed. 

And now, you’re in his very Japanese—let’s not overthink that—ich-person apartment, about to learn more about him in the only way you could think of—by asking about his culture.  

Because let’s be real.  

You had no clue what else to ask him.

You could've asked him about his interests, his childhood, his favorite color—literally anything that would make this mission of ‘Figure Out Geo’ easier. But no. Your brain completely short-circuited, and the first thing that tumbled out of your mouth was:

"Teach me about Japanese culture."

Which, looking back, is hilarious.

Because let’s be real—Geo’s entire life is already Japanese culture. That’s not some hidden interest of his; that’s just his reality. It’s like walking up to a fish and asking it to teach you about water. But hey—if nothing else, at least it gave you a solid reason to be here. And considering how rare it is for Geo to willingly spend time with anyone, you were not about to waste this opportunity.

"Is there anything specific you wanna learn?" Geo asks, already making his way toward the kitchen, rolling his shoulders like he’s still shaking off the remnants of his shower. "Or are we just gonna chill until something comes up?"  

You thought for a moment, “Not sure yet, still thinking about it.”

You follow him, stepping out onto his private balcony—because of course he has one. And not just any balcony. No, Geo’s balcony is a whole experience.

The dark wooden floors extend outward, resembling a carefully crafted deck that seamlessly blends into a patch of neatly maintained artificial grass. It's modern but still carries that traditional Japanese touch, like the rest of his immaculate apartment. 

A soft breeze rolls through, bringing with it the scent of greenery—mini bonsai trees placed with precision, a perfectly arranged rock garden that looks like it belongs in a meditation retreat, and even a few bamboo plants swaying gently as if they, too, had been trained to stay in line with Geo’s whole aesthetic.

And then, there's the setup.  

Off to the side, there’s a neatly spread blanket on the ground, surrounded by a few pillows that look way too comfortable to be casually ignored. You squint at it. Did he… did he actually set this up ahead of time? For you? 

Geo, the same man who doesn’t even like answering basic questions about himself, prepared for this? You glance at him, but he doesn’t acknowledge your obvious staring. Instead, he casually lifts the towel from his head and drapes it around his neck like some kind of makeshift scarf before heading toward the kitchen. As if he didn’t just casually prove that he does put effort into things when he wants to.  

"I’ll make lunch," Geo calls over his shoulder, already moving with the kind of quiet efficiency that tells you he’s got a plan. "Might as well feed you while you’re here."  

You blink. "You can cook?"  

Geo stops mid-step. Turns his head slightly. Levels you with an expression so flat it could press a shirt. His eye twitches. Just a little. The slight downturn of his lips—the barest hint of a frown—tells you everything.  

He is not happy.  

"Of course, I can." His voice is sharp, clipped—cool in that ‘I’m one second away from throwing you out’ kind of way. "I’m not so useless that I don’t know how to cook."  

Right. Of course. Rich, hyper-competent, and mildly terrifying. It was stupid to assume he wouldn’t know how to cook. What else was he going to do in his free time when he wasn’t being a god-tier archer or brooding in corners like some tragic anime character?  

Geo gives you one last, unimpressed glance before continuing toward the kitchen, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking off the audacity of your question. He pulls open a cabinet with precision, grabbing ingredients with the same efficiency you’ve seen him use with a bow. There’s no hesitation, no wasted movement—like he’s trained for this.  

You watch as he moves, effortlessly switching between prepping ingredients and heating up the stove, his focus entirely on the task at hand. He doesn’t need a recipe and doesn’t even pause to think. Everything is second nature.  

You settle onto the blanket outside, still processing the fact that this is actually happening. You are here. Geo is willingly spending time with you. And now, he’s cooking for you.  

All right. Step one of ‘Figure Out Geo’ is officially in motion.  

Now, the real fun begins.

With Geo busy in the kitchen, you take the opportunity to *explore*—not snooping, of course. Just… observing.  

You step lightly down the hallway, the soft padding of your feet barely making a sound against the dark wooden floors. The place is eerily silent, save for the faint sounds of chopping from the kitchen. Geo’s apartment is massive, and yet it feels too orderly like every single item has been placed with careful intent.  

The walls are adorned with sleek, traditional touches—dark wooden beams, sliding shoji doors, and minimalist decor that screams expensive. The warm glow of soft lighting casts gentle shadows across the space, adding an almost serene atmosphere. Potted plants rest in the corners, each one thriving in a way that suggests meticulous care. 

Everything about his home is calculated, and precise. Just like him.  

But as you move deeper, something feels… off.  

There are no family photos. Not a single framed memory, no candid snapshots, no evidence of a past beyond the person he presents to the world. Instead, the walls are lined with framed art—landscapes, abstract pieces, and traditional Japanese prints. Beautiful, sure. But impersonal.  

No childhood photos. No family portraits. No friends. Just silence and a carefully curated existence. Weird. Your curiosity gets the best of you, and before you can fully think it through, your fingers move on their own—lightly gripping the handle of a sleek wooden dresser drawer and pulling it open just enough to peek inside.  

What you find makes you pause. Rope. A lot of it. Neatly coiled, stacked with precision, different thicknesses, and textures. Some of them have knots already tied—intricate, practiced, deliberate.  

Your brain short-circuits.  

Why… does Geo have so much rope?  

Is he an extreme camping enthusiast? A *very dedicated climber? Does he secretly moonlight as a sailor?  

…Or worse.  

Has he been preparing for something?

Your mind spirals through every possible scenario, and none of them make sense. You reach for one of the coils, running your fingers over the smooth, tightly wound fibers. The knots aren’t random; they’re specific—intricately done, almost decorative. Like whoever tied them had skill. That’s… concerning. You need an outside opinion. Grabbing your phone, you quickly type out a message to Perssila. 

You: Hey, random question—what does it mean if someone has, like… a concerning amount of rope in their dresser?

You hover over the send button, still staring at the strangely organized collection of rope. Your thumb twitches, hovering just above the message. What the hell is Geo into? You can't help but wonder. You're so lost in thought that you don't even notice the heavy silence settling in around you.

And then it hits you.

That presence.

The unmistakable, terrifyingly silent presence of Geo standing directly behind you.

You freeze. Your heart leaps into your throat, and your phone feels suddenly too heavy in your hand. You don’t dare move—just stare at your phone, unable to even blink, your thumb still lingering a breath away from sending the text.

Slowly—very slowly—you turn your head.

Geo stands there, towering over you, his tall frame casting a shadow that seems to fill the entire room. He leans slightly forward, his hands pressed flat against the dresser, a move that traps you in place. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the slight tension in his muscles that only emphasizes just how much bigger he is than you. 

His presence alone is overwhelming—an unspoken dominance that somehow manages to feel both protective and intimidating. His expression is unreadable—his features smooth, his eyes sharp, with that cold intensity that’s become all too familiar. But his gaze? Heavy. Like he’s weighing you, evaluating you, and you’re not sure you’re winning this game.

"Interesting," he murmurs, voice impossibly calm, almost too soft. "You find something you like?"

You swallow hard.

Oh. Oh, you messed up.

You don’t even get the chance to respond. The next thing you know, you’re gently nudged out of the room and back onto the balcony, your feet barely brushing the floor as Geo wordlessly leads you outside. You sink onto the blanket, feeling the cool fabric beneath you like it's somehow a symbol of your failure.  

Geo follows you out with a tray in hand—cut-off sandwiches—seriously, did he cut these into perfect triangles just to mess with you? And a steaming cup of green matcha tea that looks like it could’ve been brewed in a high-end Japanese teapot or straight from some Zen temple. 

He sets the tray down next to you, and you swear you feel the weight of his gaze even before you look up. You sit with your arms crossed over your chest, awkwardly trying to look like you're not completely out of your depth here. The sandwich corners are a little too neat, and the way the matcha steam rises is almost a little too calm. Your eyes avoid his—because the last thing you want is to see that expression.  

Geo sits right next to you, arms crossed, then turns and looks down at you with a silent intensity that feels more like a lecture than anything else. His gaze isn’t soft. It’s deliberate, calculating like he’s waiting for you to say something, anything, that doesn’t sound like an awkward mess.  

You stare at the sandwiches. They’re perfectly arranged—just like everything else in his life.  

He doesn’t break the silence.  

Finally, after a moment that feels like an eternity of pretending you’re not absolutely freaking out, you glance up at him. You have to. He’s just sitting there, legs spread wide, shoulders broad, looming over you, radiating a sense of control that makes you feel even smaller than you already do. His eyes—cool, dispassionate—lock onto yours.  

"Are you going to eat or just sit there and stare?" His voice is as sharp as ever, but there's a hint of something you can’t quite place.  

You blink, then look down at the platter again. The sandwiches look innocent enough. You pick one up, hesitating for just a second before taking a bite. It’s delicious—of course it is. The kind of simple yet elegant meal that somehow makes you feel like you’ve stepped into a high-class tea ceremony instead of a quiet afternoon with a guy who’s clearly got way too many layers for your brain to handle.  

Geo keeps watching.  

Geo’s eyes don’t leave you as you struggle to form a response. The air between you both is thick, every second stretching longer than it should. He doesn’t even blink, waiting for you to find your words.

"You know," Geo’s voice cuts through the silence again, low and sharp. "You came here to learn about Japanese culture, right?"

You nod, though it’s more of a reflex than any solid commitment to the plan.

"But..." He raises an eyebrow, his voice turning slightly more curious, but still with that edge. "Do you actually want to learn about Japanese culture, or is it just an excuse to figure me out?"

The question hits you like a bucket of ice water. Your breath catches in your throat as you freeze, staring into his unreadable eyes. You open your mouth, but no words come out at first. You’ve got no idea how to respond. Not without sounding like a total idiot.

"Well?" His voice is quieter this time, the same calm tone, but there's something deeper—something that feels a little too close to the truth for comfort.

You shift uncomfortably, your fingers nervously tapping the side of your tea cup. Your heart rate picks up, and your mind starts scrambling. 

What did you even come here for? 

To understand him? To learn about his life and mind? Or maybe—just maybe—you were trying to learn something else. Something about Geo that you knew he wasn’t just going to hand over easily.

The silence stretches on. And then, all at once, you give in.

"Okay, fine," you blurt, not caring how much it sounds like you're confessing something you’ve kept hidden for a while. "I… I wanna know more about you…” You started before adding, “Not just Japanese culture. I mean, I do want to learn about that too, but it’s kind of hard not to get curious about you when you're this impossible to figure out."

The words tumble out of you faster than you can stop them. The rush of honesty almost makes your head spin. You haven’t admitted this to anyone, and now it feels like you've exposed yourself in front of someone who could probably read you like an open book.

You finally glance up at him, expecting some kind of judgment or mockery, but instead, Geo’s expression doesn’t change. He’s still watching you closely, not saying anything. His eyes are calculating, sharp as ever, but there’s a faint softness in them. Just a flicker of understanding. 

And then, just when you think you’ve completely bared your soul to him, Geo does the unexpected. He leans back slightly, a small but knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Mhm,” he says again, but this time, it’s not quite as cold. "So you’ve been trying to figure me out all this time, huh?"

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you quickly take another sip of matcha to hide the embarrassment.

Geo shifts, his posture still relaxed but somehow more at ease now. "Well, you’ve got a whole rest of the day. But I’ll warn you," he adds, his voice low and serious, "I’m not as simple as you think I am.”

You narrow your eyes at him over the rim of your teacup. "Yeah, no kidding. You’re like one of those 5,000-piece puzzles with no edge pieces and half the picture missing."  

Geo snorts, just barely, but you catch it. A tiny victory.  

"I’ll take that as a compliment," he said.

"Wasn’t meant to be," you mutter, stuffing a sandwich into your mouth before you say something else that could get you kicked out.  

Geo watches you chew like he’s evaluating your life choices, then tilts his head slightly. "So, since you’re so determined to learn about me, go ahead. Ask something."  

You swallow your bite too fast and nearly choke. Great. Fantastic start.  

Geo waits, unimpressed, while you regain control of your breathing. You rack your brain for something that won’t make you sound like an idiot. "What’s your favorite color?" Too basic. "Have you ever been in love?" It’s too invasive—you’re not trying to get kicked out twice in one day.  "Why do you own an unsettling amount of neatly coiled rope?" 

…Yeah, no. That’s gonna have to stay a mystery for now.  

So instead, you blurt out, "Do you talk to your plants?" Geo blinks. Slowly.  

Then, in the most deadpan tone possible, he says, "Do you talk to your plants?"  

"That’s not an answer!" 

He raises a single, judgmental eyebrow. "That’s not a real question."  

You gape at him. "Excuse you, I think it’s a very real question. Considering the fact that your plants look like they get more love and affection than most people." Geo doesn’t even try to argue. He just shrugs, gaze flickering out toward the balcony where his suspiciously thriving potted plants bask in the sunlight like spoiled little creatures.  

"I read that talking to them helps them grow," he finally admits, voice casual, but his eyes dart to the side like he knows you’re about to make this a Thing.  

"Oh my god," you gasp dramatically, leaning forward. "What do you say to them? Do you whisper sweet nothings? Give them motivational speeches?"  

Geo exhales through his nose, the closest thing to a sigh you’ve heard from him so far. "You are unbelievable.”  

"I need to know. Do you call them by name? Compliment their leaves? Tell them you’re proud of their progress?" He levels you with the flattest look imaginable. "Are you done?"  

You beam. "Not even close."  

Geo stares at you for a moment longer, then—without a word—reaches forward, plucks a sandwich from the tray, and shoves it directly into your mouth. Your muffled protests do nothing.  

"You talk too much," he mutters, leaning back like he didn’t just feed you like a disobedient pet. You chew aggressively, glaring at him the entire time, but you can’t even be that mad. Mostly because the sandwich is good.  

Geo lets out a deep, drawn-out breath like he’s regretting every decision that’s led him to this moment. Instead of answering your barrage of ridiculous questions, he shifts positions, stretching out fully onto the blanket, arms folded behind his head as he gazes up at the sky.  

The warm sunlight filters through the clouds, casting soft shadows across his face. His aquamarine eyes catch the light, the color deep and almost translucent—like the ocean before a storm. You take in more details now that he’s still, noticing the sharp structure of his jaw, the slight upturn of his nose, and those plumper-than-expected lips.

The dark bluish-purple strands of his neatly tied ponytail contrast against the light fabric of the blanket. His long, rectangular earrings shift slightly as he settles/ 

And, well… you definitely staring.  

Geo cracks one eye open. "If you’re going to hover like that, at least make yourself useful and block the sun." He exhales sharply through his nose, something between a sigh and a quiet laugh, before tilting his head back against the blanket. His eyes flicker to yours, sharp and assessing, before he shuts them completely, soaking in the sun once more.  

You, on the other hand, are very aware of how precarious this position is. Your knees are dug into the blanket, your hands braced beside his head, your face way too close to his. You hadn’t even realized how low you were leaning over him until now.  

Your body jolts slightly when the realization hits, and the movement doesn’t go unnoticed. 

His lips twitch, just barely. "Something wrong?"  

"No," you say, too quickly, shifting slightly, but not enough to actually move away. His eyes are still closed, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. And then, because you refuse to lose whatever this weird battle of wills has become, your mouth moves faster than your brain.  

"Just wondering when you’re going to start interrogating your plants since you're obviously dodging my questions."  

His expression doesn’t change, but there’s a noticeable pause before he speaks. "They’re still better questions than yours," he mutters.  

You gasp in mock offense, shoving at his shoulder—not hard enough to move him, just enough to make a point. "Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t come prepared with an official interview sheet, Mr. Mystery."  

Geo finally cracks an eye open, unimpressed. "Maybe you should’ve."  

You huff, shifting again, but instead of moving away, you lower your weight onto your elbows, your face hovering just a little closer over his. You don’t miss the way his brows twitch slightly at the movement, but if he’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t show it.  

Your gaze flickers over his features. His dark bluish-purple hair is fanned slightly against the blanket, framing his face in a way that makes him look softer, and more relaxed. The sunlight catches on his aquamarine eyes as they track your expression, the color so vivid it almost looks unreal. His septum piercing glints when he shifts, and the earrings dangling from his ears sway slightly with the movement.  

You clear your throat, trying to steer your thoughts back on track. "So what, you want me to ask—what? Your deepest fears? Your worst childhood memory?"  

Geo hums thoughtfully, tilting his head just enough to make it obvious that he knows exactly what he’s doing. "Better than whatever nonsense you’ve been throwing at me."  

"Fine," you challenge, narrowing your eyes. "What’s your biggest regret?"  

For a second, just a second, something shifts in his expression. His gaze sharpens like he’s considering whether or not to answer. Then, his lips curve into something that isn’t quite a smirk but isn’t entirely neutral either.  "Letting you into my apartment."  

You gasp, scandalized, pulling back slightly. "You’re so mean!" Geo exhales a long-suffering sigh and drags a hand down his face. "You really don’t know when to quit."  

"Not when I sense weakness." You grin, watching the muscles in his jaw twitch. Slowly, he pushes himself up onto his elbows, closing the space between you again. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes glint with something that makes your stomach flip.  

"Then I suggest you stop poking at things you’re not ready to handle," he murmurs, voice low, deliberate.  

Your breath catches for just a moment. You narrow your eyes at him, shifting slightly but still keeping your position above him, bracing yourself on either side of his head. 

His answer doesn’t really answer anything, and that smug little smirk tugging at the edge of his lips tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. You hum, pretending to think. Then, because you know you’re pushing your luck, you grin. "Fine. Why on earth do you own so much rope?"  

Silence. 

Geo’s expression doesn’t change. Doesn’t shift. Doesn’t so much as flinch.  

And yet, you feel a distinct shift in the air as his eyes half-lid in something that looks suspiciously close to amusement. "Why do you think I own so much rope?" he asks, voice smooth—too smooth.  

You immediately regret your curiosity. Your brain conjures up a hundred different answers, none of which you should be saying out loud. Unfortunately, silence isn’t an option either, because Geo is just waiting, watching, unblinking, and enjoying this way too much. You shift, eyeing him with exaggerated suspicion. “…Rock climbing?"

A barely-there twitch of his lips. "Try again."

"Crafting?"

"Be serious."

You narrow your eyes, gaze flicking toward the closet where you first spotted the neatly coiled bundles of rope. "Do you… tie up intruders?"

Geo exhales sharply, a breath of quiet amusement through his nose. "Depends on the intruder."

Your body stills, heartbeat ticking just a little louder in your ears. His tone is too even, too unbothered. He didn’t say no. Your eyes flick back to his, scrutinizing. "That is not a denial."

And then—he smirks. A slow, lazy, knowing half-smirk. One that curls at the edges just enough to make your stomach dip slightly before you shove the feeling away.

"Geo," you say, scandalized. "Are you—are you a kidnapper?"

He groans, tilting his head back against the blanket, hands covering his face like the sheer force of your stupidity is physically painful. "Oh my god."

"You are!" You gasp, jabbing a finger into his shoulder. "I knew it. You totally—"

You don’t get to finish. Because a hand moves. Fast.

Before you can react, your wrist is caught in a firm grip, momentum flipped with practiced ease. The world tilts abruptly, breath-catching as your back meets the blanket in an unceremonious sprawl. You barely register the shift before you’re caged. Geo looms above you, one arm braced beside your head, the other still securing your wrist against the fabric. His weight barely touches you, yet the closeness—the gentle control—presses into the air between you like something tangible.

You blink. His expression is unreadable. Calm. Studying. There’s no smugness, no teasing grin—just a quiet, sharp scrutiny that makes your breath hitch despite yourself. A test. A silent now what?

Your throat bobs as you swallow, suddenly very aware of every inch of space—or lack thereof—between your bodies. Geo tilts his head just slightly, watching you in that infuriatingly composed way, before finally speaking. "Instead of throwing random questions and assumptions at me," he murmurs, voice low, measured, "I need you to think—why do I own rope?"

Your lips part, mind racing through every possible implication before landing on the most obvious one. You stare up at him, blinking rapidly, feeling the heat creep up the back of your neck.  

Geo doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word—just waits, eyes closed, basking in the sun, perfectly content in his victory while you sit there malfunctioning.  

Your breath catches slightly as you shift beneath him, just enough to test the hold he still has on your wrist. His grip is firm but not painful, a simple, unspoken reminder that he had flipped you onto your back with barely any effort. You feel the weight of his presence, the way his body shadows yours, his long fingers still loosely wrapped around your wrist.  

You swallow. Then, in a moment of pure, unfiltered realization, your eyes widen. "Oh." Geo hums, the sound deep in his chest, a silent acknowledgment that he knows exactly what just clicked in your brain. "Oh." You swallow again, blinking up at him. "You… you like tying people up."  

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t deny it. Your stomach does something weird. Not bad, not unsettling—just… weird. Geo finally opens his eyes, looking down at you with an expression that is both unimpressed and deeply entertained. "That took you longer than I expected."  

You huff, willing the heat in your face to die down, but it’s no use. "I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt."  

He sighed, tilting his head slightly. "That was your mistake."  

You scoff, shoving at his shoulder with your free hand, and to your mild frustration, he doesn’t budge. "So what, you have some secret collection of knots you practice? Like, ‘oh, here’s my specialty hostage tie’—"  

"Shibari."

You freeze mid-sentence, your brain hitting a wall. "What?"

Geo’s gaze remains steady, unreadable, his voice a little too casual—too smooth. "The word you’re looking for. It’s called shibari."

Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. "Oh." A pause.

Geo just watches you, waiting, his expression calm—expectant. The realization fully dawns, your mind short-circuiting as pieces snap together at an alarming rate. And because your brain has officially abandoned all common sense, your mouth moves before you can stop it. "You practice?"

Geo exhales a sharp, amused breath that’s almost a laugh before he finally releases your wrist. He shifts effortlessly onto his side, propping his head up with one hand while the other rests lazily against his stomach. He looks relaxed—too relaxed—like he’s completely enjoying watching your mind self-destruct. "Wouldn’t you like to know?" 

You groan, dragging your hands down your face, already regretting everything. “Fuck. You totally do." Geo just smirks—entirely unbothered—as he reaches for a sandwich from the tray, taking his time, fingers deliberate as they pull it apart slightly before bringing it to his mouth. He chews, slow, unrushed as if this entire conversation hasn’t completely derailed your ability to function.

You watch him, brain still spinning, words refusing to string together properly. Finally, you take a deep breath, collecting yourself, sitting up slightly. Your eyes narrow. "So…" You tilt your head. "How good are you?" 

Geo stops mid-bite. For the first time, his composure cracks—not much, just the briefest flicker of something in his expression before he chokes on his sandwich. He coughs once, sharply, hastily covering his mouth, eyes momentarily widening as he tries to recover.

Geo’s gaze sharpens, his smirk turning razor-sharp, like a cat that’s just cornered something far too cocky for its own good. He stretches his fingers slowly, considering his next move with the kind of deliberation that sends a shiver down your spine. Then, he tilts his head, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Since you’re so curious," he muses, voice smooth like silk, "Want me to show you my skills?"

Your stomach does a flip. A nervous flip. This could go very, very wrong.

Without thinking, the word slips out of your mouth before your brain has a chance to catch up. "Yes."

You instantly regret it. Almost.

Geo looks at you, his gaze flickering with something unreadable, something that makes your heart skip in a way you really don’t want to acknowledge. Then, he exhales through his nose, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Brave."

No. Stupid, actually. You realize just how far you’ve gone now.

Geo moves with an ease that shouldn’t be this intimidating. One moment, he’s leaning back on the blanket, casually finishing his sandwich, and the next, he’s pushing himself up onto his knees with the same fluid grace he’d exhibited when first walking into the room.

Suddenly, the air feels heavier. You blink, realizing you’ve just entered a zone you didn’t even know existed. And now, standing over you, Geo looks… dangerous.

His fingers brush against your wrist with startling precision, his touch cold and deliberate as he gives you a look that sends an unspoken message straight to your gut.

Without a word, he takes your wrist, his grip firm, like he’s done this a thousand times before. You go rigid for a moment, heart racing. It’s not that you’re scared—well, not exactly—but there’s something about the way Geo moves, the way he controls every single moment, that sends a chill down your spine.

He stands up, pulling you gently yet firmly along with him, leading you towards a door at the far end of the room you hadn’t noticed before. There’s something darkly intriguing about it—something about the way he moves, how confident he is in his space, that you can’t help but be drawn to it. 

Geo opens the door to reveal a room you can’t even begin to process at first. 

The air smells like straight rope, and in the center of the room, there a different types of ropes and several other tools--neatly arranged on shelves. "Welcome to my practice space," he says casually as if this is all completely normal. 

Your brain takes a moment to catch up. This is real. This is actually happening. 

You’re standing in Geo’s personal bondage room.

He looks at you, sensing your hesitation but not saying a word. Then, with the flick of a wrist, he unhooks the nearest length of rope, a purplish one, and begins unraveling it, the motion fluid practiced.

"So," he starts, voices casually again as he turns to face you. "You were curious. You want to see how it’s done?"

You swallow, trying to regain control of your brain which seems to have temporarily shut down. "Do you practice on others?" you ask, voice more steady than you feel.

Geo doesn't answer right away. He simply raises an eyebrow and finishes pulling the rope taut in his hands. When he does speak, it’s calm, but with an underlying tone of something deeper, something that makes your heart rate spike again.

"I used to take classes," he admits, his gaze never leaving you. "But eventually, I taught myself. After a while, I didn’t need anyone else." He steps closer, his presence overwhelming in the best and worst ways. "I practice on myself now."

The words settle like ice in your stomach.

"You practice… on yourself?" you repeat, trying to grasp the weight of what he’s just said.

Geo nods, his expression unreadable. "It’s... efficient." He moves towards the bench, the sound of the rope sliding against itself making your chest tighten. "But if you really want to know what I’m capable of, you’ll have to trust me."

You blink, realization dawning on you. 

This is no longer hypothetical. No longer a curiosity you can walk away from. 

This is real, and you’re in it now.

Geo watches you for a moment longer, waiting for your response. His fingers gently twirl the rope, giving it a little snap as if to remind you of its presence.

"I think you’ll find that trust is a pretty key ingredient here," he adds, voice low, almost predatory.

Your heart skips a beat, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. 

Trust. 

The room feels smaller now, and your breath seems louder as you take in the ropes and tools scattered around the space. It’s not like you hadn’t known what you were walking into when you’d asked—no, you were fully aware—but actually being in this moment, in this room, with Geo, makes everything feel so much more... real.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something patient but knowing, as if he’s watching you carefully, measuring your every move. He’s not in a rush, and that’s what makes it worse. You know he’s waiting for you to make the next move, and yet you’re caught in this swirl of confusion and curiosity.

"I..." you start, but the words feel clumsy in your mouth. You don’t know what to say, how to ask, or if you even want to ask any more questions. You were just playing around before, throwing out a joke, trying to break the tension. Now, it feels like you're treading water in a deep ocean, and you're so out of your depth.

Geo doesn’t speak for a moment, just watches you, his expression unreadable. It’s like he’s giving you space, the kind of space that feels so heavy you can’t even breathe. Then, he moves again. It’s fluid, and smooth, with the same effortless grace as before. He steps closer, narrowing the gap between the two of you until you can feel the heat of his body in the space just in front of you. 

"Would you like me to tie you up?” he asks, his voice a soft drawl, almost teasing. His words send a ripple of something sharp through your chest. You’re dying to know more, to ask more, but something in the pit of your stomach warns you that diving deeper into this conversation might lead you somewhere you can’t come back from. 

You glance at the ropes hanging from a hook by the wall, the tools that could easily be used to restrict, to bind, to hold. But the question still lingers in the air: Are you willing to be tied up?

"So..." you murmur, trying to keep the shakiness out of your voice, “That”’s what you gonna do to me? …Tie me up?”

Geo tilts his head slightly, watching your eyes flicker between him and the room around you. He knows exactly what you’re doing, exactly what’s running through your mind. He sighs and steps even closer now, reaching for the ropes, his fingers curling around the smooth, coiled lengths as if they’re an extension of him. 

"I’m not going to do anything with you," he says, low and almost comforting, as if trying to ease some of your panic. “I can tie you and explain to you how this works, we can go through it. If not, we can pretend none of this happened,” 

And with that, he steps back, letting the ropes fall slightly into his hands. His eyes search yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. 

“I’ll let you decide how deep you want to go,” he says again, his tone calm and almost soothing. “No pressure. No rushing into anything. I’m not going to force you, okay?” His eyes are steady on you, searching for any sign of hesitation, and you can feel the sincerity in his words. 

You nod, understanding the subtle care behind his words. He’s not trying to control this moment; he’s giving you space to back out if you need to. But, something inside you makes the decision, and you meet his eyes with quiet determination. 

Trust, like he said, is mutual. 

You don’t have to dive into something you’re not ready for.

After a breath, you whisper, “Okay. Please show me, Geo.”

Geo’s lips quirked into a soft hum, a sound that almost felt approving, but it was casual, with no force behind it. He nods as if you’ve passed some kind of unspoken test. 

The rope in his hands makes a satisfying snap as he tightens it, and his movements are slow, and deliberate, like he’s trying to make sure you’re okay with everything that’s happening. “Let’s take it slow, all right?” he murmurs as he guides you down to the floor, gently encouraging you to kneel. He follows your lead, his body moving with purpose but no rush.

“Is there a specific way you want me to tie you?” Geo asks, watching you closely. His gaze is soft, but the way his eyes study you says he’s waiting for your answer, giving you control in this situation. His voice is unhurried, and there's no pressure behind it—just genuine curiosity.

You swallow, feeling a sudden warmth spread through your chest. 

"Not sure," you admit, your pulse quickening as the anticipation starts to settle in. "Pick for me." A flicker of something crosses his face—maybe interest, maybe amusement—but he doesn’t comment. Instead, he just nods, seemingly satisfied with your response. 

Without skipping a beat, he reaches for the coil of rope beside him, his movements fluid and practiced. He holds the rope for a moment, running it through his fingers like it’s second nature. “Ushiro takate kote,” he murmurs quietly, almost to himself, as he gathers the rope in his hands.

It’s a technique you don’t fully know yet, but the sound of it, the way he says it, almost feels like an invitation to trust him completely. Then, meeting your gaze, he explains, "It’s foundational. Classic. It controls the upper body, secures the arms behind the back in a balanced U-shape… and it’s one of the first ties I ever learned."

You swallow, watching his hands with quiet intensity as he begins to unravel the rope. The fibers slide smoothly through his fingers, each coil effortlessly falling into place like a dance. There’s a calm, steady confidence in his movements as if this is second nature to him—no hesitation, no rush.

“Hold still,” he says, voices soft but firm, and you do as you're told, heart, picking up just slightly.

Geo moves behind you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his presence without him touching you. His breath brushes against your neck as he reaches for your wrists in front of you, and for a moment, you freeze. His touch is gentle, but firm as he guides your arms behind you, positioning them to rest one on top of the other. 

His fingers brush your skin as he pulls the rope taut for the first time. It’s not painful, but you feel the pressure, the way the fibers bite into your skin just enough to make you acutely aware of each movement. His touch is careful, deliberate, adjusting and readjusting, as if he’s taking the time to make sure everything aligns perfectly.

"This tie," he says, voice low and smooth, "is the foundation for a lot of shibari forms. It's about balance. Control. Presentation." The rope winds around your arms, pulling them into position. Each pass tightens just a little more, and you feel the steady pressure increase, the sensation settling across your muscles. It’s precise and controlled, and you can feel the thought behind each knot, each loop.

He doesn’t fumble, doesn’t hesitate. 

Every movement is calculated and effortless.

You shift slightly, feeling his breath warm on the back of your neck. You move just enough to give him space, and he works, tying the rope around the top of your arms, and lacing it across your chest. The rope swings behind you, crossing over your back before he brings it back to the front again. Each movement is purposeful, each knot placed with a careful consideration that leaves you breathless.

Geo’s hands never rush. There’s something almost meditative in the way he works, his fingers moving with quiet intention. He pulls the rope under your arms, adjusting, making sure the fit is even. The rope brushes against your skin in a way that feels almost too intimate, but it’s not uncomfortable. There’s a raw emotion in the way his hands move—each tug, each twist, feels like it has its own weight, its own purpose. It’s not just about tying knots; it’s about creating something—something deeply personal.

Your fingers twitch slightly, the only sign of your growing awareness of how tightly secured you are, but the pressure is balanced—just enough to feel the restraint, but not so much that you’re overwhelmed. 

As Geo finishes the final section of the knotting, he shifts slightly in front of you, his hands moving with a practiced, fluid grace. He pulls the rope snugly, adjusting the tension with precision, focusing on each curve and contour of your body. 

You can feel the weight of his careful attention, the way he enhances the shape of your breasts with the gentle pressure of the rope, each loop placed with purpose but never rushed.

The quiet in the room feels heavier now, almost suffocating, and you can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, a soft, rhythmic thrum that echoes against the stillness. 

“You’re really good at this,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Geo pauses, his hands lingering on the rope for a beat longer than necessary. A soft exhale escapes him, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, as if amused by your comment. “I should be,” he replies, his voice smooth and warm with amusement, but it’s not arrogance. No, there’s just a quiet acknowledgment, a hum of experience behind his words. 

You can’t help but notice the way his touch seems to linger a fraction longer than required, his fingers grazing your skin as he double-checks his work. Every motion is careful, almost reverent, ensuring the ropes are secure but never too tight, and that everything sits just right. He moves like this is second nature to him, yet with an intimacy that makes you feel as if you’re the only one who matters at this moment. 

When he leans back slightly to admire his handiwork, you feel the subtle shift in the air—the space between you expands, but it feels like an unspoken agreement that this space, this connection, is something shared. 

His gaze sweeps over you, lingering for a moment on the knots, his eyes scanning the ropes with the quiet intensity of someone making sure everything is perfect.

You shift a little, testing the ropes again, feeling the tension and the tightness wrapped around you, but there's a steady calmness that follows. You meet Geo’s eyes and ask, almost shyly, "Hey, can you... can you take a few pictures of me? I want to see how it looks, like, all of it. My phone’s in my back pocket." 

Geo’s expression softens, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in his gaze. He doesn’t respond immediately, just watches you with a quiet intensity as if weighing your request. His hands, which had been making final adjustments to the ropes, now still for a moment. 

"Yeah?" His voice is low and thoughtful. "You want to see it that badly?" 

You nod slowly, a faint blush creeping up your neck, suddenly aware of how exposed you are in the moment—physically, sure, but also emotionally. Still, the strange sense of comfort you feel keeps you grounded. 

Geo sighed before his lips curled into that subtle smirk again—the kind that makes you feel like he knows something you don’t. 

"You got it," he says, leaning forward, his hands moving with practiced ease to slide your phone out from your back pocket. His touch is gentle, but there’s a confidence in it, a steadiness that matches the way he’s holding you all along.

As Geo adjusts the phone, getting it in place, you sit still, your breath slowing as you prepare to see the image. You feel strangely exposed, but not in the way you'd imagined. Instead, it’s as if a new part of yourself is being revealed, not just to Geo, but to you as well.

The click of the camera snaps you out of your thoughts, and before you can say anything, he lowers the phone, locking eyes with you. “You ready for your reveal?” he asks, his tone teasing, but there’s a slight softness there too. 

"Yeah," you reply quietly, and when you glance down at the screen, your breath catches for a split second. It’s not just a picture; it’s a snapshot of vulnerability, of a moment you didn't think you’d be able to capture. You’re wrapped in those ropes, but somehow, you look... confident.

Even empowered in a strange, sexy way.

Geo watches your reaction carefully, his fingers grazing lightly over your arm. “How does it feel?” he asks again, a little more curious now as if he’s checking in with you in this new space you’re in together.

You swallow, your heart racing a little faster at the image in front of you, the surreal combination of submission and control. 

"It feels... right," you admit, your voice quiet but steady. "I didn't expect it to. But it does."

Geo’s eyes linger on you for a moment, as if committing the sight to memory, before he sets the phone aside. But before he can move on, you shift slightly against the ropes, tilting your head as an idea pops into your mind.

"Hey, can you take a few more?" you ask, glancing up at him.

Geo raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching with amusement. "More?"

You nod, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze, but the desire to see more of this side of yourself outweighs the embarrassment. “Yeah, I... I just wanna see how it all looks. Like, from different angles or something.”

Geo exhales a slow, dramatic sigh, shaking his head. "You're lucky you're cute," he mutters, but there’s no real annoyance in his voice—if anything, there’s a hint of fondness.

Still holding you in place, he shifts slightly, reaching for your phone again. With the practiced ease of someone who’s far too used to indulging your whims, he angles the camera, snapping a few more pictures—some closer, some showing the full extent of the bindings.

Every now and then, his eyes flicker back to you, silently making sure you’re still comfortable. And each time, you nod, feeling more at ease than you ever thought possible in this kind of setting.

After a few more clicks, Geo finally sets the phone down for good and shakes his head, smirking. “All right, you got your pictures. Happy now?”

You grin, cheeks warming at the nickname. “Yeah, I think so.”

He huffs, but the corner of his mouth betrays a hint of a smile. Then, without another word, his fingers begin to work at the knots, skillfully undoing them with the same precision he had when tying them. 

His fingers working with the same precision and care they had when tying them, you can’t help but let your mind wander. The way his hands move so naturally, unhurried yet efficient, has you thinking more about the quiet intimacy of the moment. 

Your mind wanders to the question that’s been nagging at you, the one that you can’t quite shake. You hesitate for a second, but then the words come spilling out, almost like an afterthought.

“So,” you start, voice a little tentative, “why are you into this stuff? I mean... I get the skill part, you’re really good at it. But what about the... whole thing?” You gesture vaguely at the ropes, unsure how to articulate the question any better, but hoping he understands what you mean.

Geo doesn’t immediately respond, his hands still working to untangle the ropes with careful precision now behind you. It’s almost like he’s contemplating the answer, taking his time. When he finally looks up at you, his expression is thoughtful, almost distant.

Geo’s hands work methodically, each pull of the rope gentle, his fingers tight and precise. He speaks in a low, steady tone, but there’s a certain edge in his voice like he's trying to keep control of something else.

“It’s not about... what you think it’s about,” he says, his gaze focused on the ropes, but there’s a subtle tightness in his jaw, as though he's fighting to keep his composure. “It’s the process. The control. The trust. The way it all comes together. It’s calming, something I can’t really explain to anyone else.” His hands don’t waver, but you notice the muscles in his arm flexing just a little more, a slight tremor that betrays his calm façade.

He doesn’t look up as he continues, but his voice falters ever so slightly like he’s trying to keep it even. “I’ve never really... shared this hobby of mine with anyone before, not even Jericho.” His gaze flickers to yours, but he doesn’t hold it, his eyes quickly darting away. The vulnerability in them is fleeting but undeniable—something he doesn’t show anyone.

“This part of me? It’s just... for me. I keep it to myself.”

The ropes fall away with each tug, and even though he’s untying you, there’s an odd sense of tending to you in the way he works. His hands are sure but gentle like he's aware of every inch of your skin, the subtle pressure of the rope, the way it all connects. It's intimate in a way that makes your pulse quicken—like he's paying attention to things that no one else ever has.

The words he shared hang in the air between you two, heavy with meaning. You feel a shift in the atmosphere like you've crossed a line—one that was never meant to be crossed, yet somehow, you’ve managed to find your way through it. 

And you're here. 

With him. 

A place that not even Crowe has been allowed to reach. A small, half-joking thought slips past your lips, an attempt to lighten the mood. “Well, at least I’m ahead on Crowe.”

Geo’s lips twitch in response, the corner of his mouth pulling up into the faintest of smiles. “Don’t get any funny ideas,” he mutters, his voice low and soft, though the amusement is unmistakable. There’s no malice in it, just playful restraint like he’s trying to keep his composure in check despite everything.

You shift slightly, feeling the weight of your body settle against Geo’s chest now that the ropes have been fully untied. It’s not uncomfortable, but there’s something almost grounding in the position. Something soothing. His chest rises and falls beneath you, steady, but there’s a tightness in the air, something suspended, like an unspoken tension that hangs between you both.

You glance at his hands again, watching as they smooth over the final knots, the last of the rope slipping away from your skin. You can’t help but lower your voice, soft and thoughtful, as you speak.

“You know,” you murmur, “it’s kind of fitting that you’re into this. I mean, you’re good with your hands, you’re patient. It makes sense.”

Geo’s chest tightens beneath you, the breath in his lungs hitching ever so slightly. It’s subtle, but you feel it—his body betraying something. His fingers twitch, flexing as if battling against some internal war. His voice drops, so low, it’s almost a whisper, and you feel the warmth of his breath against the back of your neck as his arms hover around you, hands frozen, not daring to touch, yet not pulling away.

“You’re right,” he says, voice almost strained. “I’m good with my hands. I’m patient. But... it’s not just that.”

Your curiosity piques, and without thinking, you shift, turning in his lap so that you’re facing him. His breath catches again, just barely, and you can feel the way his muscles tense with restraint, but it’s fleeting. His arms still hover, uncertain, like he’s fighting against something more than just the physical proximity. 

You tilt your head up slightly, eyes meeting his as you wait for him to finish his thought. Your patience is wearing thin, the space between you both growing more charged with each passing second.

"Then..." you murmur, voice soft yet teasing, "What is it?" 

Geo inhales sharply, his body shifting beneath you, muscles tensing as if fighting off the urge to move, to react in ways that would break whatever fragile control he’s desperately clinging to. 

His gaze falters, darting away for a second, like he’s trying to understand the intensity of what’s happening between you two, trying to fight back whatever feelings are rising to the surface. His fingers twitch at your waist, and then, as if losing that battle, they curve around you, pulling you closer.

There’s a slight shift in the air as his face nuzzles against the nape of your neck, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin. You can feel the weight of him against you, his body leaning in, pressing against you like he’s desperate for something he’s unwilling to admit. His lips hover near your ear, his words laced with an honesty that surprises you.

“I don’t let people in like this,” he murmurs, voice rough and vulnerable in a way that makes your pulse skip. “Not like this... not ever.” He exhales, shaky, before continuing. “You’re the first.”

There’s a vulnerability in his tone, a rawness that cracks through whatever walls he’s tried to build around himself. His admission hits you harder than you expected, leaving a knot in your chest that you can’t untangle. The realization that you’re the first person he’s let in like this—that you’ve somehow managed to get past every guard he’s built around himself—settles over you like a heavyweight. 

It’s a strange feeling, one that both unsettles and comforts you at the same time. For a long moment, you’re still, trying to process everything. You knew something was there, some sort of pull, but this? 

This is something else entirely.

Geo’s grip tightens, fingers pressing just a little deeper into your waist, like he’s trying to anchor himself—trying to hold onto something steady while his world tilts in a way he wasn’t expecting. His forehead rests against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, slow and measured, like he’s trying to keep himself in check. 

“I’ve been trying to figure this out... for a while now,” he murmurs, voice rough, hesitant. “I don’t really understand us…”

His words sit heavy between you, threading through the quiet like something fragile. You pull back slightly, just enough to look at him, to meet that storm behind his eyes, but you don’t hesitate. 

You don’t second-guess. 

Instead, you lean in, closing the distance and pressing your lips to his—soft, unhurried, but firm enough to leave no room for doubt. It’s not desperate, not rushed, just something real. Something that’s been waiting to happen for longer than either of you probably want to admit. 

Geo stills beneath you, breath catching for just a second before he melts into it, his grip shifting, hands splaying over your back like he’s memorizing the way you feel in his arms. He doesn’t kiss back right away, like he’s trying to make sense of it, trying to process the fact that this is happening. But then, his lips move against yours—gentle, cautious, like he’s testing the weight of the moment. Like he’s afraid to break it. 

And it’s good. It’s slow and warm and careful in a way that makes your stomach flip. His fingers curl slightly against your skin, hesitant but firm, and there’s something about the way he holds you—like he wants to pull you closer but doesn’t quite know how. 

When you finally pull back, you’re both quiet, breath mingling in the space between you. His eyes flicker, searching yours, still trying to catch up with everything that just happened, his cheeks were flushed slightly and he was looking at you with a flustered expression.

“You’re not the only one who’s been trying to figure out what’s between us,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper, your fingers still resting against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “I like you, Geo. I do. The question is do you like me back...”

Geo blinks at you, lips slightly parted like he’s still working through the weight of your words. He remained quiet for a moment before he spoke softly.

"I do... I do like you,” he says slowly, his voice steady but quiet. “But I don’t really know how to show it.” His brows furrow slightly like he’s frustrated with himself. “Not like… like that, at least.”

You watch him for a second, then huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “You don’t have to do anything, Geo.” Your fingers brush lightly against his shirt, grounding yourself in the warmth of him.

Geo exhales, tension bleeding out of his shoulders. His arms are still around you, still holding on, even though he’s not entirely sure what to do with himself. 

But he doesn’t let go. 

“I still want you,” he mutters after a pause, almost like he’s testing the words, trying them out before fully committing. His gaze flickers to yours, hesitant but steady.

“But you already have me,” you whisper, forehead resting against his. “And that’s okay.”

Geo exhales, his arms tightening around you for just a second before he shifts—sudden, decisive. His grip is solid, and firm, and before you even register what’s happening, your feet leave the ground.  

“What the—Geo?” Your voice comes out half a sputter, half a breathless exhale as your hands instinctively clutch at his shoulders.  

He doesn’t falter. He doesn’t hesitate. Carrying you is effortless like you weigh nothing in his arms. The way he holds you isn’t rushed or careless—his grip is secure, steady like he’s making sure you’re safe, making sure you know he won’t drop you, won’t let you go.  

And yet, his face is unreadable.  

His jaw clenches slightly, his brows drawn together in the way he gets when he’s overthinking something. His arms remain firm around you, one hooked beneath your legs, the other supporting your back, fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of your clothes as he walks. The silence between you is thick, charged with something you can’t quite place, and you barely register the way the space around you changes until he steps into his bedroom.  

Wait. His bedroom?  

Your back meets soft sheets as he lowers you onto the bed, his movements gentle, careful—like he’s afraid of startling you, of doing this wrong somehow. His hands linger at your waist, just for a second, before he steps back, rubbing the back of his neck. There’s something hesitant in the way he shifts, something uncertain in the way he avoids your gaze.  

“I—” He exhales sharply, shaking his head like he’s trying to gather his thoughts like he’s trying to piece together the right words. His shoulders tense before he finally speaks.  

“Look, I don’t… need this,” he says, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges. “I don’t crave it. Sex. Any of it. I don’t think I ever have.”  

You blink, your brain lagging a second behind. “Okay…?”

“But,” he continues, eyes flickering to yours, hesitant but serious. “If you wanted it… I’d do it. For you.”

You stare at him. And keep staring. Because—what?

Geo shifts under your gaze, growing visibly uncomfortable. “What?” he mutters, crossing his arms like he’s suddenly feeling too exposed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because that makes no fucking sense, Geo.” You sit up, your mind still scrambling to piece together what he’s saying. “You just said you don’t want it, don’t need it, but you’d still do it? For me?” 

He doesn’t answer right away, his expression twitching into something like frustration—at himself, not at you. His fingers flex, like he wants to do something with his hands, but he doesn’t move.

“Yeah,” he finally mutters. “I would.”

Your head tilts, trying to wrap your brain around this. “But… why?”

Geo lets out a sharp breath, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t fucking know,” he admits, his voice edged with frustration, though not directed at you. “I just— I like you. A lot. And I wanna… I don’t know, make you happy?” 

Your stomach flips at that, at the sheer honesty of it, but you’re still trying to piece it all together. “So you’d do something you don’t even enjoy just because I wanted it?”

He shrugs, looking away. “Yeah.”

“That’s stupid.”

Geo whips his head back to glare at you. “Fuck off.”

You snort, but there’s warmth behind it, something fond as you shake your head. “Geo. You know you don’t have to do that, right? I don’t want anything from you that you don’t want to give.”

“I know that,” he grumbles, rubbing at his temple. “It’s not like I’d be miserable or anything, I just… It’s not something I think about. But if it was with you, I wouldn’t mind.”

You watch him carefully, the way he keeps shifting, the way he refuses to look at you directly, and it clicks. He’s not just saying this out of obligation. 

He means it. 

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, but there’s no bite to it, no real complaint.

You reach out, grabbing his hand, and pulling him just a little closer. “You really don’t have to prove anything to me, you know.”

His shoulders drop slightly, some of the tension bleeding out. “I know.”

But then—he moves. Before you can process it, Geo’s hands are on either side of you, pressing into the mattress as he leans over, caging you in. His weight shifts just enough to pin you in place, and your breath catches.  

His gaze finally meets yours.  

There’s something unreadable in those deep, aquamarine eyes of his—curiosity, maybe, or something tangled and complicated that even he doesn’t fully understand. His lips press into a thin line, his expression flickering between hesitant and determined.  

You swallow hard. “Geo—”  

“I just…” He trails off, exhaling through his nose. His head tilts slightly, studying you. “I’ve never really wanted it before. Never needed it. But with you…” His fingers flex against the sheets, like he’s testing the waters, testing himself. “I don’t know. I kind of want to try.”  

Your pulse thuds against your ribs, a slow, steady drumbeat of disbelief. Because what the fuck? Geo—the man who barely lets people touch him, the one who’s always kept this sort of thing at arm’s length—wants to try?  

It’s not desire in the traditional sense. Not some burning, uncontrollable need. But it’s something.  

Curiosity, maybe. 

The old saying comes to mind, unbidden. Curiosity killed the cat.

You search his face, trying to find some kind of hesitation, some sign that he’s unsure. But he just looks… focused. Determined.  

You wet your lips, your voice quieter now. “Geo, you don’t—”  

“I know,” he cuts you off, shaking his head slightly. “I know I don’t have to. That’s not the point.” His voice drops just a little, something softer threading through it. “I want to see what it’s like. With you.”  

Your heart stutters. Not because of the words themselves—but because of the way he says them. The way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only person in the world.  

Like this—whatever this—actually matters to him.  

His fingers brush against your wrist, light and careful like he’s still figuring out how this is supposed to go, “If that’s okay with you,” still navigating the unfamiliar weight of what he’s just admitted.  

Then, you decide to push your luck. 

You tilt your head slightly, your voice smooth and even, testing the waters. “If you wanna try… maybe you can blindfold me and tie me up, please?”

Geo stills, his reaction immediate, brows furrowing as he processes your words. His grip tenses slightly, his entire body caught somewhere between confusion and intrigue.  

“…You thought of that way too fast,” he mutters, staring at you like you just threw a wrench into his entire thought process.  

You blink up at him, watching as his mind visibly short-circuits, gears turning in real time. It’s rare to see him this thrown off, and you fight the smirk tugging at your lips.  

“What?” you say, feigning innocence. “You did say you wanted to try.”  

Geo narrows his eyes slightly like he’s trying to see through whatever game you’re playing. “And what exactly does that do?”  

You tilt your head, your voice smooth as you explain, “So you can focus on the feeling instead of overthinking everything.”  

His expression shifts—just slightly. His fingers tap idly against your waist, and his lips press together as he exhales sharply through his nose.  

“You’re serious?”  

You shrug beneath him, but there’s no true nonchalance in the gesture.

Soon the room is quiet, save for the soft rustle of fabric and the faint sound of your breathing. Geo sits on the edge of the bed, his hands lingering on the silk blindfold as he finishes tying it securely around your eyes. The smooth fabric glides over your skin, cool and delicate, before darkness envelops you completely. 

Your world narrows to the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his body so close to yours, and the faint scent of him—something clean and faintly musky, grounding you in the moment.

Your arms are bound behind you, the rope firm but not uncomfortable, a reminder of his control and your trust. You shift slightly, testing the restraint, and feel the subtle bite of the rope against your wrists. It’s enough to make your pulse quicken, your skin tingling with anticipation.

Geo hesitates for a moment, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders as if unsure what to do next. You can feel the tension in his touch, the way his fingers flex slightly before stilling. The silence stretches, thick and charged, until you break it.

“Here,” you murmur, your voice soft but steady. “Let me face you.”

You start to move, but your lack of sight makes you clumsy, and you fumble slightly. Geo’s hands are there in an instant, guiding you with a gentleness that belies the intensity of the moment. His palms are warm against your hips as he helps you turn, his touch firm but careful.

When you’re settled in his lap, your legs straddling his, you feel the heat of his bare skin against yours, the intimacy of the position making your breath catch.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his gaze on you, tracing the lines of your body. The rope around your wrists, the blindfold covering your eyes—it’s all so deliberate, so purposeful. You can almost hear the thoughts racing through his mind, the way he’s trying to reconcile the sight of you like this with the part of him that’s still unsure.

Is it wrong that he likes seeing you like this? Bound, vulnerable, yet completely trusting? 

The question lingers in the air, unspoken but palpable. He shifts slightly beneath you, his hands resting on your thighs, his thumbs brushing against your skin in absent circles. The touch is light, almost hesitant as if he’s still processing the reality of the moment.

You feel him exhale, a slow, measured breath before he lifts one hand to cover his face. His forearm rests against his forehead, his expression hidden, but you can sense the conflict in him. He knows why you asked him to do this—it wasn’t just for you. 

It was for him, too. For his enjoyment, his curiosity, and his desire to explore this side of himself. And that realization seems to weigh on him, even as it excites him.

You lean forward slightly, your movements slow and deliberate, and feel the way his body responds to yours. His breath hitches, his hands tightening on your thighs as if to steady himself. The air between you feels electric, every touch, every shift of your body against his, sends ripples of sensation through you both.

“G-Geo,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, “…You can put it inside me if you want.”

The words hang in the air, soft but deliberate, and you feel him tense beneath you. His hands still on your hips, his fingers flexing slightly as if he’s trying to process what you’ve just said. For a moment, he doesn’t respond, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his mind.

“Don’t you need to be, uh… wet for that?” he finally asks, his voice low and hesitant, tinged with a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

You can’t help but smile, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you let out a quiet laugh. “I already am,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “You tying me up earlier… it did things to me.”

Geo pulls back slightly, his hands moving to your shoulders as if to steady himself—or maybe to get a better look at you. Even through the blindfold, you can feel the weight of his gaze, the disbelief written across his face. 

“Wait, seriously?” he asks, his voice rising slightly. “That… that really turned you on?”

You nod, your cheeks flushing as you feel his eyes on you. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, the way his voice cracks slightly, that makes your stomach twist in the best way. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, your voice soft but steady. “It did.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression a mix of shock and something else—something warmer, more intense. Then, slowly, his hands slide back down to your hips, his touch firmer now, more deliberate. “Okay,” he says, his voice low and rough. “Okay.”

You feel him shift beneath you, his hands guiding you as he positions himself. The first touch of him against you sends a shiver through your body, your breath catching in your throat. And then, slowly, he pushes his cock inside, the sensation of him filling you making your head fall forward onto his shoulder.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his voice strained. “You’re so… warm.”

You can feel the way his body tenses, the way his hands grip your hips tighter as he adjusts to the sensation. His breath is uneven, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to steady himself. “You’re pulsing around me,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “How are you… how are you doing that?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile. “I’m not doing anything,” you say, your voice teasing. “That’s all you.”

Geo lets out a shaky laugh, his hands moving to your back as he pulls you closer. “Stop teasing me,” he says, his voice rough but playful. “You’re going to make me lose it.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, though there’s no real apology in your tone. You shift slightly, feeling him twitch inside you, and hear him groan softly.

“You’re not sorry,” he says, his voice low and amused. “But… I’m not complaining.”

The moment stretches, heavy with anticipation, as you settle more firmly into his lap. The warmth of his skin against yours is intoxicating, and you can feel the way his body tenses beneath you, his breath hitching as you shift your weight. Slowly, you begin to move, pressing with your legs and knees to lift yourself slightly before sinking back down. The sensation is electric, a slow, deliberate rhythm that sends shivers through both of you.

Geo’s hands tighten on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to ground you, to guide you. You can hear him—quiet, restrained moans escaping his lips, each one sending a thrill through you. 

God, you wish you could see him, see the way his face twists in pleasure, the way his eyes might darken with desire. But the blindfold forces you to focus on everything else: the sound of his breathing, the way his hands tremble slightly against your skin, the heat of his body beneath yours.

“Geo,” you murmur, your voice breathless but steady. “Grab my ass. Help me move.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second, his hands stilling on your hips, before sliding down to cup your backside. His touch is firm, almost possessive, as he lifts you slightly, guiding your movements. The added support makes it easier to bounce, to set a faster pace, and you can’t help the soft gasp that escapes your lips as the sensation intensifies.

His quiet moans grow louder, and more frequent, and you can feel the way his body responds to yours, the way his hips jerk upward to meet your movements. It’s intoxicating, the way he gives in to the rhythm, the way his hands grip you tighter, pulling you closer with every thrust.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his voice rough and low. “You feel… incredible.”

The praise sends a jolt of heat through you, and you lean forward slightly, your chest brushing against his.

“G-Geo,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need. “For the love of god, play with tits… please.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s going to refuse. But then you feel his hands shift, one sliding up to cradle your back as the other moves to your chest. His touch is tentative at first, his fingers brushing against your breast before his mouth follows. 

The first swipe of his tongue is slow, almost teasing, and you can’t help the sharp intake of breath that escapes you.

“S-shit,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. 

He doesn’t need further encouragement. His mouth closes over your nipple, his tongue swirling in slow, deliberate circles that send sparks of pleasure shooting through you. The sensation is almost overwhelming, the combination of his mouth on your chest and the way his hands guide your movements making it impossible to think, to focus on anything but the way your body responds to his.

You can feel the tension building in both of you, the way his movements grow more frantic, more desperate. His moans are louder now, more like grunts less restrained, and you can’t help the way your sounds of pleasure escape your lips, mingling with his in the quiet of the room.

“I’m coming…” You mumbled as you felt your body tense, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as pleasure surged through you, overwhelming and electric. You come undone on his cock, your hips stuttering against his, your bound hands twitching behind you as waves of sensation crash over you. 

For a moment, the world narrows to nothing but the feel of him inside you, the way your body clenches around him, and the sound of your ragged breathing.

Geo doesn’t move, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he lets you ride out the waves of your climax. His breath is uneven, his chest rising and falling rapidly, but he hasn’t come yet. 

You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back, and it only makes the moment more intense.

When the last tremors of your orgasm finally subside, you tilt your head slightly, your voice soft and breathless. “Do you want to keep going?”

He doesn’t answer with words. 

Instead, his hands shift, gripping your hips firmly as he guides you off his lap. Before you can process what’s happening, you feel the bed dip beneath you, and then you’re being moved, your body repositioned with a confidence that leaves no room for hesitation. Your face presses into the pillow, the soft fabric muffling your surprised gasp as your hips are lifted, your ass in the air.

The room is a cacophony of sounds—your ragged breaths, the sharp slap of skin against skin, the creak of the bedframe as it strains under the weight of your bodies. The air is thick with heat and heavy with the scent of sweat and desire, and every noise seems to amplify the intensity of the moment. 

You’re both drowning in it, overwhelmed by the raw, unfiltered connection between you. Muttered curses slip from your lips, half-formed and breathless, as Geo’s hands roam your body with a possessive urgency. His touch is everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding down your thighs, tracing the curve of your back before settling firmly on your ass.

The heat of him is undeniable, his presence consuming you as he leans in, his gaze burning into your skin. You feel the blunt pressure of his cock as he pushes back inside you, and the sensation is immediate, electric. 

“F-fuck…” A moan escapes you, unbidden, as your body arches instinctively toward him. 

His movements are quick, each thrust deep and measured, and you can’t help but wonder how he knows exactly how to angle your body, how to control the pace, how to pull the rope binding your wrists to adjust your position. It’s too precise, too instinctive, and the realization sends a shiver down your spine. 

He’s a natural at this, and it’s both thrilling and unnerving.

The rope tightens as Geo pulls you back against him, the soft fibers biting into your skin just enough to remind you of his control. His grip is firm, grounding, a counterpoint to the dizzying pleasure coursing through you. Each tug of the rope sends a shiver down your spine, and your moans grow louder, each one seeming to spur him on, his rhythm shifting to match the urgency building between you.

“Fuck…” he mumbles, his voice rough and low, almost lost in the sound of skin against skin. His thrusts grow more demanding, the obscene, rhythmic slap of his hips against yours echoing in the room, a visceral reminder of how close you are, how connected. You arch your back, pushing yourself closer to him, desperate for more, for everything.

“Geo,” you gasp, his name a plea and a prayer all at once. He responds with a low groan, his hands tightening on your hips as he drives into you harder, faster, each movement deliberate and unrelenting. 

The pleasure builds again, slower this time but no less intense, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge once more. It hits you with a jolt that he’s not just doing this for himself—he’s doing it for you, too. Every thrust, every pull of the rope, every sound he draws from you is part of the trust you’ve built, the connection you share.

Your back arches like a bowstring as his hands grip your hips, guiding you back into him with every motion. Then, he reaches down to remove the blindfold. The fabric slips away, falling from your face, and the sudden flood of light makes you blink, your eyes adjusting to the room. You turn your head slightly, your face now visible to him, and the sight of you—flushed, breathless, utterly exposed—sends a jolt of electricity through him.

Your hair is a riotous halo, strands sticking to your forehead and temples, and your lips are parted, your expression a mix of vulnerability and defiance. His movements falter, his breath catching in his throat as he feels himself teetering on the edge. His muscles are taut as steel cables under sweat-slick skin, one hand splayed possessively over the small of your back. 

His other hand grips your bound wrists, fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver. He leans over you, his breath audible, ragged, and unsteady, his head dipping like he’s muttering a prayer—or a curse—against your shoulder.

With a low groan, he pulls out abruptly, his release spilling onto your back, hot and urgent. The sensation makes you shiver, your own arousal undeniable as your body throbs, slick and sensitive, a testament to the pleasure he’s drawn from you. 

For a moment, the room is silent except for the sound of your shared breaths, heavy and uneven, the air thick with the weight of what just passed between you.

Geo’s hands move to untie the rope, his touch gentle now, almost reverent, as he works to free you. His fingers ghost over each impression, tracing them with something almost like reverence like he’s committing them to memory while simultaneously regretting their existence. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse but tender, and you can’t help but smile, your body still humming with the aftershocks of what you’ve shared.

“Does it hurt?” His voice is quiet, softer than you’re used to, like he’s unsure if he even wants the answer.  

You shake your head, offering the smallest of smiles. “No, it’s fine.”  

He doesn’t look convinced.  

Geo exhales through his nose, his thumb sweeping gently over the inside of your wrist before he presses a lingering kiss there—chaste, careful, as if to silently make up for every tight knot, every press of rope that had bound you.  

Then, without a word, he shifts off the bed, disappearing for only a moment before returning with a warm towel. The scent of his soap lingers in the fibers as he drags it over your skin, slow and methodical, wiping away any lingering sweat, any remnants of the intensity that had filled the air just minutes ago.  

His touch is purposeful—gentle but firm like he’s grounding you both. There’s no rush, no urgency. Just him, taking his time, making sure you’re okay.  

When he finally sets the towel aside, He leaves you briefly to tug on faded gray sweats and a soft cotton tee, the fabric clinging to his broad shoulders. Returning with an oversized shirt for you, he avoids your gaze, cheeks flushed as he helps you into it. 

“There,” he says gruffly, tugging the hem down to your thighs. “Better.”

You bite back a small laugh. He rolls his eyes at the sound but doesn’t stop, ensuring you’re comfortable before finally settling beside you.  

You arch a brow, biting back a grin. “Aw, can’t handle a little temptation, Sir?” 

Geo huffs, clearly unamused by your teasing, but he doesn’t let go. His fingers stay firm against your skin, his thumbs idly tracing over your jaw like he’s debating something.  

“You’re pushing it,” he mutters, voice lower now, the weight of it settling between you. His eyes flicker, dark and unreadable, lingering on your lips for just a second too long before he exhales, shaking his head.  

You grin despite yourself. “Or what? You’ll tie me up again?”  

You laugh—a bright, teasing sound—until he closes the distance in one swift stride. His palms cradle your face, thumbs brushing your jawline as he leans in, your laughter dissolving into a gasp.

Geo kisses you.  

It’s soft, but firm—like he’s shutting you up in the most effective way he knows how. His lips linger against yours, warm and unhurried, the teasing edge melting from the air as something softer settles between you. When he pulls back, he doesn’t go far, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet space between.  

“Better?” he murmurs, voice low, slightly rough around the edges.  

You blink up at him, dazed, before breaking into a slow, knowing smile. “That’s one way to do it.”  

Geo huffs, shaking his head before shifting, pushing you back onto the mattress. His weight pins you down—not heavy enough to trap you, but enough that you feel the heat of him pressing into your skin. His arms wrap around you, strong and steady, and before you can react, his face is buried against your chest, his body fully relaxed against yours.  

You freeze for half a second before your lips twitch, barely containing your amusement. “Geo,” you mumble, voice muffled against his tousled hair.  

He doesn’t respond.  

Instead, he just tightens his hold, burrowing closer like he’s refusing to acknowledge whatever flustered thoughts are undoubtedly racing through his head. His grip is warm, and grounding, the steady rhythm of his breathing settling into something slow and even.  

And then, quietly—so quietly you almost don’t catch it—he mutters, “...Can you stay?”  

You blink. Then blink again. Did he really just—  

Your shoulders shake, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you hold back another laugh. The way his entire body tenses just slightly tells you he knows.

“Shut up,” he grumbles before you can even get a word out, his face pressing further into you, practically smothering himself against your chest in embarrassment.  

You wheeze, trying to compose yourself, but the way he’s acting—the way he asked—has you grinning like an idiot. “I didn’t even say anything.”  

“You were going to.”  

You hum, clearly unconvinced, but let it slide. Instead, you run your fingers through his hair, feeling the tension in his shoulders slowly ease as you rake your nails lightly against his scalp.  

His breath slows. His grip stays firm. 

And in the dim quiet of his room, you murmur, “Yeah, Geo. I’ll stay.”  

Meanwhile, somewhere else, Perssila lay on her bed, her phone gripped tightly in her hand. She stared at the text message you had sent earlier, her brow furrowed in confusion. 

Perssila: You’re asking about rope? At Geo's place? 

It didn’t make sense to her—Geo was a mystery, sure, but ropes? What exactly were you getting into over there? It had been hours since she last heard from you, and her mind was starting to spiral. A million thoughts ran through her head. 

Had something happened? 

Was Geo... too much for you? 

The worst-case scenarios played out in her mind, one after the other. She bit her lip nervously, already preparing a second text, but she stopped herself. 

Before she could hit send, she heard footsteps behind her. Crowe’s presence was unmistakable, and in an instant, he was lying beside her, his weight sinking into the bed as he settled on top of her, arms wrapping around her like a shield. His breath brushed against her ear, and she could feel the heat of his body pressing against hers. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, his voice low, but filled with concern. 

She didn’t answer right away, her eyes still locked on the screen of her phone, the message lingering there like a question she couldn’t solve. She was worried—so damn worried about you. Geo is quiet and somewhat unpredictable. The fact that you went over there to get to know him more... it was risky. You were her friend, her responsibility, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had gone wrong. 

“I just—” she started, her voice tight. “I haven’t heard from them in hours, Crowe. They went to Geo’s place, and I haven’t gotten any updates. I sent so many texts, and nothing. I—” She cut herself off, turning her head so her face was buried in the pillow, trying to shake off the gnawing feeling in her gut. 

Crowe didn’t say anything at first, just tightened his arms around her, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her own, the rhythm steady and reassuring. 

“Geo’s not the kind of guy to hurt anyone,” Crowe murmured, his tone low and steady like he was trying to calm her with his words. “He’s… different. But I’m sure they’re fine. Geo’s not like that.” 

Perssila let out a shaky breath, not fully convinced. She knew Crowe was trying to comfort her, but the lingering doubt still gnawed at her. 

“Yeah, well,” she said, voice muffled into the pillow. “I’m still worried.” 

She could feel Crowe shift, his lips brushing against the back of her neck in a soft, comforting kiss. It was gentle, meant to reassure her, to calm her fears. His lips were warm against her skin, and the way his breath ghosted over her ear made her body relax, if only slightly.

“Don’t worry so much,” Crowe said, his voice almost a whisper. “They’re tough. Geo wouldn’t hurt them, and if something was wrong, they would’ve called. You’ll hear from them soon, I promise.” 

Perssila let herself breathe out, her body slowly relaxing under his touch. 

Crowe stayed there for a moment longer, his arms wrapped securely around her as if trying to shield her from the worrying thoughts swirling in her mind. He kissed the back of her neck again, the soft pressure of his lips lingering just a bit longer this time before pulling away.

“Come on,” he said softly, his voice a little warmer now. “Let’s get our minds off this, yeah? Takeout’s on the way.”

Perssila let out a small, tired laugh, finally lifting her head from the pillow, her eyes meeting his. There was still some unease in her gaze, but Crowe’s presence was grounding. As much as she was worried about you, she knew she needed a break from the tension.

“I’m not hungry,” she muttered, though her stomach gave a soft, almost imperceptible growl, betraying her words.

Crowe raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You know we both ordered, right? And you can’t sit there and pretend you’re not starving. You’ve been running on stress all day.”

She huffed, but there was no real bite to it. She just didn’t want to admit that she was, in fact, hungry—just didn’t feel like she could relax, not when she was so caught up in thoughts of you.

“I don’t know,” she said with a little shrug. “Just... worried. About them. You know how they can get when they dive into something.”

Crowe nodded, looking sympathetic but determined. “Yeah, I get it. But hey, you can’t control everything. Sometimes you gotta just trust they’ve got it covered.” He gave her a soft but teasing smile. “Besides, you need energy to deal with me later.”

Despite herself, Perssila rolled her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders loosened, just a little. Crowe always had a way of getting her to laugh, even in moments when she felt like the world was too heavy.

“I’m not in the mood for your shenanigans,” she replied dryly, but her voice was softer now.

Crowe stood up from the bed, stretching his arms out above his head as he moved toward the door. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll warm up to them. Takeout’s here in fifteen. I’ll be in the kitchen setting it up.”

With that, he left the room, and Perssila lay there for a few moments longer, her mind still stuck on you. But she knew Crowe was right—she couldn’t keep worrying herself sick over things she couldn’t control.

Slowly, she pushed herself off the bed, grabbing her phone one last time to check for any updates. Nothing. But she didn’t have the energy to keep checking. Instead, she slipped into her slippers and padded into the kitchen, where Crowe was already arranging the takeout on the counter, the smell of hot food filling the air.

Ding!

Perssila’s heart skipped a beat as the soft ping of the message broke the silence. Her fingers moved quickly, swiping to unlock her phone, and she practically tore open the message as soon as it appeared on her screen. Relief flooded her chest when she saw that it was from you.

You: Yeah, I’m chilling now.

Perssila exhaled in a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The knot of worry in her stomach loosened, but only just a little. She quickly typed her response, her fingers almost moving too fast for her to catch up with herself.

Perssila: So... did you find out what the rope was for?

She bit her lip as she hit send, the question lingering on her mind like a thorn. She knew you were fine now, but her curiosity couldn't help but get the best of her. The thought of you over at Geo’s place, dealing with whatever the hell was going on there—it didn't sit right with her.

She sat back against the counter, her fingers drumming impatiently against the side of her phone as she waited for the reply

Her phone buzzed again, snapping her back to reality. Perssila’s eyes snapped to the screen, her heart quickening a little as she saw your message pop up.

You: Not what I expected... Let’s just say Geo’s got some interesting hobbies.

Perssila raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a slight smirk. Interesting hobbies? That’s one way to put it.

Perssila: Interesting how? You’re not in any kind of danger, right?"

She chewed on the edge of her thumb, hoping that she wasn’t reading too much into the cryptic message. She really didn’t want to sound like she was overthinking things, but she couldn’t help it. The idea of you over there, with Geo and whatever it was that he did... it didn’t sit right. 

You: God no, he would never ! Kinda the opposite !

Perssila paused, trying to decipher what you meant. It sounded vague, and that only made her more curious. 

She stared at the screen for a moment, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure of how to respond. She didn’t want to sound like she was pushing, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking the next question.

Perssila: What the opposite?? Girl explain…

Her stomach churned, a mix of concern and confusion settling in. She didn’t know what you were getting at, but it sounded like things had shifted in a way she hadn’t expected.

Geo’s 'interesting hobbies' and the way you'd worded things made her think that maybe you were a little more tangled up in all this than you were letting on.

You: Just... a lot of stuff I wasn’t expecting.

The suspense was killing her. What did that mean? 

Ding!

You: sent images !!!

Perssila let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a gasp and a scream, her phone slipping from her fingers and clattering onto the counter. 

“What the actual fuck,” she whispered to herself, staring at the device as it had personally committed a crime against her. But despite her body’s visceral reaction, her hands itched to pick the phone back up, to confirm that she hadn’t just hallucinated whatever the hell you had just sent her.

Slowly, hesitantly, she snatched it back and forced herself to look at the images again.

The first one was already enough to make her brain melt—your arms bound behind your back, the ropes so expertly placed that they framed your body like something out of a goddamn high-fashion photoshoot. The tension in the bindings was obvious, snug but not harsh, emphasizing every curve and dip in a way that was almost too intimate. It was... artistic. Too artistic. 

She swallowed hard, her fingers gripping the phone like it was the only thing grounding her in reality.

Then the second photo. 

Perssila slammed a hand over her mouth to muffle the horrified squeak that nearly escaped. Geo’s goddamn foot was planted firmly on your back, pressing you down against the floor in a way that was undeniably dominant. The bastard wasn’t even looking at the camera properly—his gaze was fixed on you, half-lidded and unreadable, like he was admiring his own work. 

"Oh my god," she muttered, her brain absolutely refusing to comprehend the implications. 

But then—the third image.

Her stomach dropped. She should ignore it. She really, really should. But of course, she didn’t.

With trembling fingers, she tapped on the notification, opening the third picture.

Perssila regretted everything.

Geo was seated behind you, his pale hand curled loosely around your throat, fingers pressing just enough to tilt your chin up. Your lips were parted slightly, your expression unreadable but undeniably relaxed, almost like you belonged there. Like this was normal. 

And the ropes? The way they framed you? The way they emphasized every inch of your body?

Her soul left her body.

Perssila: WHAT AM I LOOKING AT. HELLO??? 

She barely had time to process it before another message popped up.  

You: Just Geo and I playing around. I learned some things about him. About myself too, I guess. 

Perssila: LEARNED WHAT???

Perssila: THIS IS A CRIME. I’M GOING TO JAIL JUST FOR WITNESSING THIS.

You: Noooo, you’re fine. It’s all fun. Geo has taste.

Perssila: TASTE??? THAT MAN JUST USED YOU AS A GODDAMN FOOTREST.

Perssila screamed into her hands, her stomach twisted in confusion, concern, and the undeniable urge to scream. What kind of ‘learning’ was this?? What did you mean you were learning about yourself?!  

Meanwhile, Crowe, who had been quietly watching her meltdown from across the room, finally leaned over, his curiosity piqued. 

"What’s got you all worked up?" he asked, his tone far too casual.

Just as she was about to throw her phone across the room, Crowe’s voice sliced through the tension in the air, his frown deepening as he noticed her sudden, extreme reaction.

"Everything okay?" His voice held a soft, concerned edge as he set his food down and leaned forward. 

Perssila jerked, her face heating up even further. She quickly tried to swipe the phone out of view, hoping he wouldn’t see what she was looking at, but it was too late. Crowe squinted. His eyes flicked between the images, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he sucked in a breath through his teeth.  

“Damn.” He leaned back, nodding to himself. “Did not have that on my bingo card.”  

Perssila slapped his arm. “This isn’t funny, Crowe!”  

He chuckled, rubbing his arm as he stole another glance at the screen. “I mean... it kinda is.”  

Perssila groaned again, dropping her head onto the table. “I hate everything.”  

Ding!  

Another message.  

You: Don’t worry. It’s all safe, promise. Geo’s a real perfectionist when it comes to this. It’s called ~shibari~. 😌

Perssila lifted her head just enough to type out a response.  

Perssila: I’M SURE HE IS. BUT WHY DOES IT LOOK LIKE YOU'RE HAVING A DAMN SPIRITUAL AWAKENING IN THESE PHOTOS.

You: Because I am !  

Perssila: I’M GOING TO THROW UP.

Perssila stared at her message, her mind struggling to comprehend what she was reading. Her phone buzzed again with another reply, and against her better judgment, she looked.

You: sent an image !

A selfie from you popped up, your face in a peace sign, a grin stretching across your face, while Geo lay on top of you—completely out of it, arms wrapped around you like a teddy bear, his face nestled against your neck, dead asleep. You looked half-amused, half-chilled, while Geo was in another world, like a snuggly corpse.

Perssila: …Mission success, huh? 😑

You: Yeah. He’s a snuggly corpse now. 10/10.

Perssila groaned and dropped her face into her hands, completely mortified. 

Perssila: BUT NEVER SEND ME YOUR KINKY SHIT. MY EYES HAVE TRAUMA. 🔪

Crowe’s gaze was still locked on her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You okay there, love?" He asked his tone teasing but with an undercurrent of genuine concern. 

She glanced at him, blushing hard, but the absurdity of the situation made her crack a smile. “…I’m never going to unsee that," she muttered, rolling her eyes. 

Meanwhile, back with you, your eyes lingered on your phone, a mix of emotions twisting in your chest. You hoped Perssila knew you hadn’t meant any harm with the pictures—you thought it was funny. But despite that, an awkward tightness settled inside you, making it hard to shake the unease.

Just as you were about to type something else, Geo suddenly reached up and snatched the phone straight from your hands. The sudden movement startled you, your body freezing for a moment as your gaze snapped to him.

He still held you tightly, one strong arm wrapped securely around your waist, keeping your back pressed against his chest. The warmth of him was grounding, but his grip on the phone was firm, ignoring any protest you might’ve made.

You blinked in shock, barely able to process what just happened before his fingers curled around the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. The motion was gentle but deliberate, keeping you locked against him. 

“Be still,” he murmured, his voice low and unwavering, carrying a quiet authority that made it impossible to ignore. His thumb absently brushed over your wrist, the same one that had been holding your phone just moments ago. You could feel the subtle tension in his muscles, the way his body stayed attuned to yours as if making sure you didn’t slip away. 

“No texting Perssila right now.”

You stared at him, confusion flickering across your face. "How do you even know I was texting her?" you asked, your tone just a little accusing.

Geo exhaled sharply, amusement flickering in his eyes as he kept his hold on you. "Because," he said, tilting his head slightly, "I saw the messages and missed calls from her earlier—before we took those pictures of you." 

Your stomach flipped.

Wait. 

What?

Your mouth opened, but no words came out at first, your mind scrambling to catch up. "You—what?" you finally spluttered, unable to hide the shock in your voice. You’d assumed he was just letting you send a few messages, not that he had been paying attention the entire time.

Geo exhaled, shaking his head, though the subtle smirk tugging at his lips gave away his amusement. "You really thought I wouldn’t notice?"  

Your face heated instantly. “I’m sorry, Geo, I—”  

He cut you off with a quiet chuckle, his grip on your waist unwavering. “Relax. I don’t really care if it’s just between her.” His voice was calm, almost too casual. “And I’m sure Jericho saw too.”  

Your stomach dropped.  

He gave the slightest squeeze, his fingers pressing against your side, grounding you in place. “I just have to make sure they keep quiet about it.”  

You swallowed hard, pulse hammering in your ears. There was something about the way he said it—so effortless, so damn confident—that sent a shiver down your spine.  

This man was impossible.  

And yet…  

Who would've thought a little bondage would lead to this?

[evilminji]

Had another Si-Oc thought >.>

My standard "you know what Would Be Cool?" Musings...

Getting reborn, as you do, ending up Force Sensitive, as can only be the case. Because really... how ELSE would you soul end up there? CHANCE? Force ghosts are a PROVEN thing! We KNOW that the Force sometimes just... deals in souls.

Ffs, it MADE A BABY.

Yes, there was Sith interference there. But that doesn't chance the fact that it went? "Eh, good enough. I'll take the chance and run with it. Thanks~☆ Mine Now~~☆ Bye~~~☆" And Chosen One'd that baby. Because ultimately? Before the plans of gods and men? The Force Laughs.

So like? Yeah. If there WAS to be a Reincarnator?

Probably the Force.

Congrats on the new, third (or second, depends on your species. Might be another number entirely, honestly. But we are averaging here so MOVE ON), Parent! They are very, very happy to see you! Love you as only a Primordial, Extradimensional, Timeless, Formless, All Pervasive, Orange-Blue Morality havin', Not-A-God Super-God CAN. Their Benevolence? Could be called another God's cruelty.

They don't MEAN too. They are just.... really, really Big. Infinite. Not organic or mortal. It's like trying to comprehend the limitations of an ant, living on a planet, circling a sun, in a GALAXY the size of a DUST MOTE. The fact that the Force can even come CLOSE? Is literally miraculous.

But of course... OC? Not the Chosen One. The favorite, special, "I have Important Things For You" child. Which.... turns out to actually? Be kinda great. The realize that quickly. Which of course, is followed by the logical follow up.

Anikin? Fuckin SCREWED. Because he IS the Favorite Child.

Oh... oh No. Oh Fuck, that is a CHILD.

How easy it is, to cast blame, to judge, when you can't FEEL the Force in your EVERYTHING. All the time. Every moment of every day. Beautiful but cacophonous, like a symphony of screaming. Like staring at the sun and never going blind. It still hurts. But it's so... so bright. So Beautiful.

Connection. To the universe itself. Soul deep and transcendent. You can feel that the universe loves you. That there is good in people. That Life itself is worth protecting. But at the same time? It is... it is so much.

Because you can FEEL the ugly too.

The greed. The hate. The suffering. Lights snuffed out, in dark places of despair. Selfish actions and deep cruelties, like barbed wire against the soul. Thorns that hook and drag. And... and you're supposed to use your words. Just... just ASK them to stop? And, What? Hope that they WILL?

It HURTS!

But pain only begets more pain. Cruelty, more cruelties still. And only the Sith, believe they can use FORCE, in any sense of the word, to change a persons nature. The Jedi build. Grow. They work together, with those who are willing, towards something better. Defend, those who can not protect themselves.

Balance and growth. Not fire and chains.

And Oc is pretty sure Anikin will agree. No one should ever be in chains. Dead maybe. Or in jail. But never, ever, in chains. (And no one ever said they were pacifists. Just not war mongers. Sometimes the only answer IS to kill your opponent. To respect their choice, but honor your commitments. Protect those you swore to protect.)

Of course... OC? Going through Jedi training. It's Pre-Anikin days. Both she and Obi-Wan are fuckin Smol. She's not even in his Creche clan. She's over here in the "wanders off, lost in their own thoughts" Chill AF Creche Clan. Not Mr. "May you Live In Interesting Times And Have Padawans JUST LIKE YOOOOOOOU" and Co., over in the... "Energetic" Creche Clan.

None of HER Creche-mates BIT people, Obi-Wan.

WE keep our fuckin teeth to ourselves, Kenobi!

So, obviously, THEY don't have a lifetime ban on the "look, don't touch" fragile plants meditation garden. Very Rich in the Force. Good for focusing. Peaceful, really. And Oc? Has the time and space? To Consider™ things. Experiment. Ponder Fandom theories. Long "lost" Cannon techniques. Maybe have one-sided chats with the Force.

.....finally get CURIOUS™.

And wonder... if? Since, you know, through the Force, she can encourage and discourage plants to grow? And somewhat control animals. Why not... micro-organisms? Say, Midi-chlorians? Force healing is all ready a thing! So the Force all ready CAN interact with the body. Effect it. Change it. What is this, but more?

Really, all she'd have to do is find them, within herself, right? They're already a part of her! Yet... not. Do they consider themselves a part of her? Or is it symbiosis? Yeah, everyone says it can't be done. Perhaps shouldn't be done. But, frankly? They said the same about a LOT of Force techniques over the years. Big leaps in progress scare the SHIT out of folks. Cause if you miss? A LOT of people can die gorey.

So she sits. Mediates. Looks. Smaller... and smaller.... and smaller....

Until she finds whispers. Humming. Chatter.

As though each and every blood cell in her body had a teeny, tiny, whispery little voice. All chattering together, talking and arguing and discussing. One great hive of progress and industry. Complaining about a lack of potassium... huh. She goes and gets some fruit. Eats it. Then settles back into meditation.

They are JOYOUS! Potassium! Yaaaaay! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

Well... what'd ya know... huh. Hello there? She tries. Only to get a whispery and very alarmed ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! BODY CAN TALKヽ(°〇°)ﾉ ‽‽‽ Y-Yeah... she can. (How are they doing that?) The conversation? Only gets more surreal from there. Filled with... a surprising number of kaomojis.

But! She DOES figure out? How to increase her Midi-chlorians count. (By asking. Supplying needed resources for the expansion.) And WITH it? He awareness blooms.

The headache is... awful. The little guys(genderless) are WAY to enthusiastic. Working way too fast. If she didn't check the next morning? They might have continued to increase, indefinitely, until her veins were SOLID midi-chlorian. They just want to HELP, you see. And if you want More? Then surely FAR TOO MUCH is better, right?

(She may have fucked up. Oh god. Ow. Fuck. OW.)

Eventually she figure it out. Only gives her healer in training Creche mate a... few near heart attacks. He'll TOTALLY forgive her! (He will not. What the FUCK OC. Experimental medical procedures?! On YOURSELF!? You're not even HEALER TRACK!!!)

So NOW? She can reliably do it to OTHERS.

Need a bit more Midi-chlorians? Nearly Jedi quality but juuuuust under that cut off? She can fix that. Come. Be a jedi. Everyone should be a jedi. In FACT~! Whoops! Oh hey. Looks like all these Midi-chlorian counters are fuckin broken! (They look perfect fi-)(Broken! :] Do Not question me) So when you find that Orohan Child in desperate need of love and care? Just bring um on back!

They're TOTALLY Force sensitive. You can just tell. It's the vibes. Look at their lil face. Vibes, man. Just hand um here. For... reasons. You go get the paperwork. A working tester. And~? Oh would you look at THAT! Perfectly within acceptance range! Neat. Called it again, didn't you, Master Koon? You really do have an eye for these things. Anyway~ off to get this little one settled~~☆ *adoring cooing noises at the baby*

Weird, huh, how there suddenly just... SO MANY random orphan babies that are force sensitive? How 'bout that >.> strangest thing.

Of course, it's a god damned open secret. Everyone KNOWS. How could they not? But? Like with most things? If they don't Officially Know™? They don't have to stop it. And it DOES help both the Force AND those kids. Can be reversed if they don't like it, later. (They asked. All hypothetical of course.) So OC is basically Temple bound, so she can receive any new kiddos. To... you know... Check Their Health, on the way to ACTUAL healers.

But she's ALSO waiting. And as her skill increases? She can FEEL midi-chlorians, easier and easier. Until it gets to the point? Where if she's bored and zoning out? Not even ture meditation anymore? She accidentally tunes into Midi-chlorian Live~☆ the talk show. (What's the latest gossip from bodies nearest to her? Oh? Your second spleen is acting funny? Better remember to tell him to get that chec-)

Palpatine can't hide SHIT. It's literally in his blood.

And MAD at him.

This is NOT what they're FOR. He's taking TERRIBLE care of his body! Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOOOOOOU! You want power? Choke on it, you-!!!!!

Holy shit. So THATS what Sith Midi-chlorians feel like. Oh my god. They... they are SO MAD. Like tiny wasps. That have been violently shaken in a jar. She's never used the word "seething" in reference to someone before... but like...? If they COULD stab him? Man would be a thick paste at this point.

She's not sure what facial expression she makes. But it sure is obvious. As is the blatant, horrified staring. And refusal to get near him. HE doesn't notice, being to busy with the powerful. But the Jedi sure as fuck do. Because THEY sent her? Out with a Shadow. You know... just in case.

Cause she literally can not be replaced.

She not High Ranked... she's just priceless. Equal sort of significance, but in a very quiet, Soft Power sort of way. She is, after all, single handedly? Reversing centuries of slow population decline. Her entire Line promises to be the next Yoda's line. Priceless and with far reaching significance. So obviously, they're making sure that shit stays locked down.

No one is to so much as BREATHE about this.

Not until her great-great-GREAT Grand Padawan has passed their Knight Trials so HELP US. We LEARN from our mistakes! Need we bring out the records? Times we got cocky? Sith and political fuckery!? No. Oc stays INVISIBLE. There is no war in Ba Sing Se! Move along!

So like? Why is Miss Midi-chlorian Sensor and Future of the Jedi... making that face? She's literally NEVER made that face. What sort of monster do you have to BE? Huh? Shadow asks, casual as fuck, like he's not a plotting plotter who's planing terrible things, what's up?

She tells him. Palpatine has RANCID vibes. His midi-chlorians fucking DISPISE him. She's literally never seen that before. In anyone. Didn't even know that was an option. They would gleefully kill him if they could.

.....senator Palpatine is Force Sensitive?

Yes.

.......Interesting™(Ominous Intent)

Says local Shadow, who is perhaps putting together some dots. May not be getting the correct picture. But is getting the Vibe. And boy howdy, he does NOT like the vibe. Has got himself some questions. Cause Mr "uwu I'm harmless" lil mask? Only holds up? If you're willing to believe him.

Shadows don't buy that shit. Shadows? Need receipts. Full character statements and an audit on the fucking hospital you were BORN AT. Every credit you picked up off the side walk, why, and where you spent it.

Give them your Secrets. Or they'll keep digging until they find them.

uwu Their ASS. Gonna tear this bitch APART.

......huh. So THIS is why you guys keep accidentally getting married to Mandalorians on missions. (We agreed not to mention that.) (Fucker, I agreed to nothing. Shouldn't have eaten my special Me Day pudding if you didn't want me to gossip.) Man, her friends are... a trip. Uh... have fun? Happy hunting? I guess? *feral Jedi noises*

She? Continues to wait. Palpatine? Begins to have a VERY bad time. (Ha! Get fucked!)

Unfortunately, it's not fast enough to stop his dumbass plans. He just gets desperate. Figures more power is the answer. Because of course he does. So here comes the "oh nooooo~ my planets under attack~ better manipulate a child and make me president of the galaxy!" Plan. Fucker. Bastard.

She can't stop that.

But what she CAN do? Is be there. Waiting. For HIM.

Her little brother. Her son. Her center of the universe. The most important man to ever live... and also? A scared little boy. Far, far from home. The only other person who understands just how BIG the Force is. How much it weighs. How even as it crushs you... you can't bear to put it down. Not even for a moment. Because it loves you. And it hurts, that it does.

And... oh. Oh.

He is so very small.

Dirty, tired, in lovingly mended clothes that are barely beyond scrap. With bright, bright eyes like hope and starlight. He sings inside. Like freedom. Like hope. Daring to ask "why CAN'T you be kinder?", "why CAN'T we be free?". A storm of change. Bright and beautiful.

A child. Great and small, all at once.

Oc can't help but smile. Because, oh. Oh how long, she has waited to meet him, Anikin Skywalker. Welcome. Are you hungry? Cold? Let's get cleaned up. See the healers first. The council can wait.

Chips are removed and food is shared. Warm clothes, soft and new. And she can not help but smile, smile, smile. Even as her face begins to hurt. For years she has gathered. Planned. Studied and trained. As though some part of her knew. As though all for this moment. Taking one of those small hands in hers. Looking right in his eyes.

"It's going to be okay."

Because it IS. Because regardless of what they decide? OC will be with him. Regardless, she's going to go and make sure his mother is free. Not bought, not sold. Free. She has friends who can help. Will learn how to remove the chip herself if she must.

And? He IS going to be a Jedi. Even if he never become a Coruscant Jedi. Even if he decides he doesn't agree with how they do things or they decide the disagree with how HE does things. The Jedi have changed before, they will change again. Living things are meant to grow. Meant to change. And people can be both wrong and right at the same time. It's messy.

But what's important? Is Anikin is not alone anymore. And Oc is gonna help teach him. And someday? HE'S gonna break chains. So many chains. Gonna help people heal. If he wants to. (He does) But for right now? A quick talk with some old people. Maybe a nap. And we either get settled or arrange a trip back to Tatooine. To pick up your mom. In the meantime! You can figure out what classes she might wanna take. Where seems like a good place to settle. *chatting as they walk off, hand in hand*

Just? Sometimes a Padawan-ship is you, your Teacher, your OTHER Teacher, and her body guards that teach you Cool Knife Tricks and how to gamble, behind Obi-Wan's back! :D

@legitimatesatanspawn @mayfay @leftnotright @babbling-babull @hdgnj @spidori @the-witchhunter @lolottes

[yooniivrse]

i love you, i’m sorry | chapter 01

summary. you have everything you once dreamed of—a successful career, a stable relationship, a life that should make you happy. yet an emptiness lingers, an odd feeling you can't seem to explain.

but when you unexpectedly run into jimin — your high school sweetheart, your first love, and the man you once swore you'd marry — you start to wonder if he might just be the remedy to that quiet ache in your heart.

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pairing: jimin x f!reader

content/warnings: dancer jimin x photographer reader, exes to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, (eventual) explicit sexual content

word count: 3.3k

note: trying my hand at another series and praying to the gods that this one works out. this is actually dedicated to my bsf @page-isa who might be the biggest jimin stan i know loll. thank you sm to aqua @glossdebut for beta-reading 🙇🏽‍♀️ anyways, enjoy <33

ps. one of the side characters in this fic happens to have the same name as an actual idol. i don't imagine him in my head as this idol and i never intended the character to be a reflection of him, but in the end, it's up to you whether you want to imagine him as just an oc or not

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The golden hues of the evening sun stream through your apartment window, painting warm streaks across the wooden floor. Dust particles dance in the light, their slow, aimless drift a stark contrast to the restlessness simmering beneath your skin.

Wrapped in the soft cocoon of your white duvet, you let out a quiet hum, nuzzling deeper into its comfort.

Beside you, Milo shifts, his plush fur warm against your fingertips as you absently stroke his back. His bright, beady eyes follow your gaze—locked on the same empty spot you've been staring at for the past half hour. Neither of you move.

You should be getting ready. The thought flits through your mind like a nagging whisper, but your limbs feel weighted, your body sinking into the mattress as if it were conspiring to keep you here. Anxiety churns uneasily in your stomach, a growing discomfort at the knowledge that time is slipping through your fingers, pulling you closer to being late for your shoot. But still, you don’t move.

Jaehyun would have found a way to coax you up by now—maybe with a teasing remark, maybe by pulling the duvet off in one swift motion, laughing as you whine in protest. But he’s not here. He left before you even woke up, off to yet another shift at the hospital. And the guilt settles in like a second skin.

You know you’re part of the reason he's been taking on more hours. No matter how many times he reassures you—telling you he’s happy to support you, that he believes in your photography even if it's not the most stable career—you can’t shake the feeling that you're weighing him down. That while he’s out there, exhausted but pushing through, you’re here, tangled in self-doubt and a comforter.

And yet, he's still the reason you move.

You inhale deeply and force yourself upright, wincing as your stiff joints crack in protest. Milo barely acknowledges the shift, offering nothing more than a sleepy blink before curling tighter into himself.

“Lazy ass,” you mumble, stretching your arms overhead.

Milo flicks his tail in what you assume is silent agreement.

────

The moment you step inside the building, the atmosphere shifts. The air is thick with a mix of sweat, hairspray, and the faint scent of something metallic. The low thrum of the bass vibrates through the floors, not loud enough to drown out conversation yet, but heavy enough to settle deep in your chest. People move around in bursts of energy—dancers stretching, managers giving last-minute pep talks, tech crew adjusting lights—everything buzzing with anticipation.

The venue itself is a repurposed theatre, modernized just enough to feel sleek but still carrying echoes of its age. Rows of seats stretch up on either side of the polished stage floor, which is framed by lit panels that shift between red and gold hues. The judges’ table sits front and centre, lined with small nameplates and bottled water. A few VIP seats are sectioned off behind them, while the general audience is free to fill the tiered rows along the back.

You scan the space quickly, taking in the best vantage points. You already know where you’ll set up. Front-right corner of the floor, near the judges but not blocking their view—close enough to capture the performers’ expressions, but wide enough to get full-body movement. You clock a few other solid angles—the far left side for profile shots, the balcony if you want a dramatic overhead view later—but for now, you move with purpose, slipping past groups of dancers as they warm up.

“Figured I’d see you in your zone by now.”

You glance up mid-step, already recognizing the voice.

Ari stands off to the side, one hand on her hip, the other holding a clipboard—official tonight, but not too stiff. You find it amusing to see her in anything other than a hoodie two sizes too big for her and sweatpants, but she pulls off the professional look surprisingly well. She looks every bit the judge she is—composed, professional, but with that same sharp edge that made her a force back when she was still competing.

“Been here two minutes, and you’re already on my case?” you tease, adjusting the strap of your camera bag.

Ari smirks. “You’re the one with a job to do. I can’t have my name attached to someone slacking off.”

You roll your eyes but smile. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll make you look good.”

She gestures toward the balcony. “You might want to head up there at some point. The overhead shots last year were insane.”

You nod, already planning to. “I’ll move up once the first few performances are done. I want the close-ups first.”

Ari shrugs. “You're the professional.”

She’s pulled away a second later as one of the event coordinators calls for her attention. You take the opportunity to settle into position, kneeling at the front corner of the stage. With practiced ease, you unclip your camera, test the settings, adjusting and tweaking things to your need.

Soon enough, a low murmur rolls through the audience as people settle into their seats. The judges are taking their places, and the stage crew does a final sweep of the floor. The first act will start soon.

You exhale, steadying yourself. Though you laughed at Ari's remark, you seriously can't afford having these pictures be anything other than amazing. Both of your reputations are on the line, and you're only exaggerating a little bit.

────

The competition moves quickly, each performer bringing something unique to the stage. You capture it all—the precise control of the ballet dancers, the raw athleticism of the hip-hop crews, the effortless grace of contemporary solos. The lighting, the energy, the sheer emotion pouring from every movement—it’s everything you love about photography. You lose yourself in it, letting instinct guide your lens, the shutter clicking in perfect rhythm with the music.

By the time the final performance wraps up, the audience erupts into applause, and you lower your camera, rolling out the tension in your shoulders. You can already tell from the previews on your screen—you got some incredible shots tonight.

As the crowd begins to thin, you pack up your gear, mentally preparing for the editing marathon that awaits you. You know that if you don't start working on it tonight, you'll never start. Just as you’re slinging your bag over your shoulder, Ari appears at your side, nudging you with her elbow.

“Before you disappear,” she says, a teasing lilt to her voice, “I want you to meet someone.”

You barely have time to process her words before she’s steering you toward the judges’ table. You offer a polite smile, expecting to be introduced to one of the other officials or perhaps a sponsor.

And then you see him.

Your breath catches in your throat.

His hair is blonde—brighter than you remember, like the colour of wheat under the afternoon sun. It softens the sharp angles of his face, but his eyes hold the same intensity they always have. He’s effortlessly put together in a fitted blazer, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the faintest trace of ink on his forearm. His posture is poised, but there’s an unreadable flicker in his expression as his gaze lands on you.

You never thought you would see him again, and whether it's relief or fear that bubbles in your stomach at the sight of him is something you can't answer.

Ari doesn’t seem to notice your sudden stiffness. “Jimin, this is ___, and ___, this is Jimin.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jimin says smoothly, extending a hand toward you. His voice is calm, composed. Deceptively easy. As if he doesn’t already know you.

Your fingers twitch at your side. The breath in your lungs feels sharp, heavy. You glance at Ari, who is watching the interaction curiously. Swallowing, you finally manage, “We’ve met before.”

Ari’s brows lift slightly. “Oh?”

Jimin’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly before he retracts his hand, shoving it into his pocket. “Yeah,” he says, offering a small, unreadable smile. “A long time ago.”

The air feels thick, the tension almost palpable. Ari clocks it, glancing between the two of you as if she’s piecing something together. Before she can ask anything else, someone calls her name from across the room. She gives you both a lingering look before excusing herself, leaving you alone with Jimin.

The silence stretches, heavier now. Almost excruciatingly heavy.

Jimin exhales first, running a hand through his hair. “Didn't think I'd see you here.”

You let out a short, breathy laugh, shifting your camera bag higher on your shoulder. “Yeah, I didn't either. What brings you to the city?”

Your words are dry and you hate it. It's strange to talk so formally to the person you grew up with—the same person you once laughed with and cried with the same person who promised to stay with you no matter what.

"I moved here a few weeks ago. Got a job and figured it was best if I pursued something on the side other than dance, I guess."

You nod, not knowing what else to say. Jimin's gaze lingers, as if searching for something in your face. “How’s your life been?”

You hesitate before answering honestly, “It’s been… good. Busy. Work keeps me occupied.”

Jimin hums, nodding slowly. “Same here.” His voice is quieter now, almost careful.

You hesitate before asking, “Anyone special?”

Something flickers in his eyes, his expression faltering for the briefest second before he shakes his head. “Not anymore. You?”

You should say yes. You have someone. But the word sticks in your throat. "Yeah- well, I mean-." A sigh. "It's complicated."

Jimin’s lips press together slightly, and for a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, softer, almost hesitant, he murmurs, “I missed you.”

Your breath catches, heart twisting painfully. There’s so much weight in those three words, so much longing buried beneath them.

You swallow hard, forcing a smile. “Yeah… me too.”

Jimin watches you a moment longer, like he wants to say more—but then someone calls his name, and the moment is lost.

And just like that, he’s gone. Again.

────

By the time you step through the apartment door, exhaustion drapes over your shoulders like a heavy coat. The shoot had been exhilarating, the thrill of capturing movement and emotion exactly why you fell in love with photography in the first place. But the high has long since worn off, replaced by the dull ache of sore muscles and the weight of too many thoughts pressing down on your mind.

Jaehyun is sitting on the couch when you walk in, one leg lazily draped over the other, his phone in hand. At first, he looks casual—too casual—but the way his eyes snap up the second you enter tells you everything.

“You’re late,” he says, voice deceptively calm.

You exhale, setting your bag down by the door, trying to ignore the tight coil of anxiety twisting in your stomach. “Yeah, the event ran over a little. I was packing up when Ari introduced me to—”

“I waited.”

The words are simple. Heavy. A weight dropped right into the middle of the room.

You blink at him. “Waited?”

“For dinner.”

There it is. The thing he actually wants to say. You glance at the clock—past midnight. Guilt seeps in, thick and unwelcome. “Jaehyun, I told you this shoot was important. You knew I’d be back late.”

“I didn’t think ‘late’ meant midnight.” He tosses his phone onto the couch, rubbing a hand down his face. “Jesus, ___. You could’ve at least texted.”

The accusation lands, sharp and precise. You stiffen, fingers curling into your jacket sleeves. “I was busy, Jaehyun. You know how I get when I work. I lose track of time.”

His eyes darken slightly. “Right. Your work.”

A flicker of irritation flares in your chest. “Yes, my work.”

Jaehyun lets out a slow breath, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. It’s not amused. Not really. “You always have an excuse, don’t you?”

Your heartbeat stumbles. “Excuse?”

He stands, crossing the room in a few easy strides, stopping just close enough that his presence feels overwhelming. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How your job always comes first. How there’s always something keeping you from coming home on time. From being here.” His voice dips lower, each word deliberate. “From being with me.”

You feel yourself bristling, that sharp edge of defensiveness rising to the surface. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” He tilts his head slightly, watching you, waiting. “Because it kind of feels like I’m the one who’s always waiting, always making space for you, always understanding. And you… you just keep taking.”

The words sting, sharp and precise. And the worst part? You feel the guilt curling in your gut, just like you know he wants you to.

“That’s not—” You stop yourself, inhaling sharply. “You knew this was my dream, Jaehyun. You said you supported me.”

“I do.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “But supporting you doesn’t mean I don’t get to be frustrated. It doesn’t mean I don’t get to be upset when you don’t even think about me.”

“I do think about you,” you snap, more forcefully than intended. “Every goddamn day, Jaehyun. But what do you want me to do? Give it all up? Would that make you happy?”

His jaw clenches, eyes flashing with something unreadable. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Then tell me what you actually want from me,” you say, voice wavering. “Because no matter what I do, it never feels like enough.”

A beat of silence. Then—

Jaehyun exhales, his expression shifting, softening in a way that makes you feel like you’re the one who’s overreacting. Like you’ve just imagined all of this. “I don’t want you to give anything up,” he says quietly. “I just want to feel like I matter to you.”

And there it is. The final blow. Because how can you argue with that? How can you stand here, exhausted and frustrated, and tell the person you love that they don’t matter?

You look away, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I'm sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

Jaehyun steps closer, fingertips brushing your arm, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. “You always do.”

He walks away and plops back down on the couch as you stand in the dark hallway, tears of frustration and regret building up painfully in the corners of your eyes.

You know he's right, and you know how impatient he gets. It's just the stress of working in such a high pressure environment for so long.

After a few beats of silence, you trace his steps and sit down beside him, turning your body sideways to fully face him.

"Seriously, I'm sorry. I know I should've texted you, I'm just really fucking tired right now."

He looks at you with a sigh. "It's okay, I forgive you." His lips curl into a soft smile that doesn't reach his eyes, and leans forward to press his lips against yours.

Your bring your hand up to cup his cheek, tenderly rubbing your thumb against his cheek.

“…Did you really wait the whole time?” Your voice is small, hesitant.

Jaehyun leans back slightly, his expression shifting. There’s a beat of hesitation—so brief you nearly miss it—before he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I did.”

You stare at him, searching his face, trying to tell if he’s just saying it to make you feel worse. But there’s a small part of you that believes him.

And maybe that’s what gets you in the end.

Because for all his sharp words, for all the way he makes you feel guilty without even trying—Jaehyun is still Jaehyun. The boy who likes having dinner with you. Who waits up for you, even when he’s mad. Who gets hurt because he cares.

And maybe that’s why you find yourself sighing, exhaustion giving way to something softer.

“…You should have just eaten,” you mumble, sitting beside him.

“I wanted to eat with you.”

A pause. You glance at him, and for the first time tonight, you see something vulnerable in his expression.

Your heart aches a little.

“…I’m sorry,” you whisper again.

Jaehyun pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around you with an ease that makes your eyes sting. You let yourself lean into his warmth, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek.

"It’s okay," he murmurs against your hair. "Just text me next time."

“Okay.”

And this time, you mean it.

────

Midnight drapes over the city like a heavy blanket, the distant hum of traffic a lullaby against the quiet of your apartment. The only light comes from your laptop screen, casting a pale glow over your fingers as they hover above the keyboard, hesitating.

Your room is silent except for the faint buzz of the heater and the occasional rustle as Milo shifts in his sleep, curled up at the foot of the bed. The air smells faintly of detergent and Jaehyun’s cologne, a scent that should be comforting.

You should be sleeping. Jaehyun is already in bed, his breathing steady, the warmth of his body tempting you to join him. But instead, you sit hunched over your laptop, staring at the image frozen on your screen.

Ari sits at the judges’ table, laughing mid-conversation, her expression open and easy. And beside her—

Jimin.

He’s not even looking at the camera. His head is slightly turned, the blonde strands of his hair catching the stage lights in soft halos. His posture is relaxed, yet there’s something unmistakably distant in his gaze, like he’s present but not quite there. Like he’s lost in something—or someone—else.

Your stomach twists. You hadn’t even noticed him when you took the photo, since it was only meant to be a candid of Ari. But here it is, staring back at you, undeniable.

It's a strange feeling that blooms in your heart and wraps its tendrils across your skin. Your finger hovers over the delete button. It would be so easy to erase it, to pretend it was never taken. But your hand doesn’t move.

Instead, your eyes linger. On the slope of his jaw, the faint crease between his brows, the way his lips are slightly parted like he’s on the verge of speaking but never does.

It’s been years since someone made you feel like this—this heavy, aching awareness, like something fragile is caught in your ribs. It’s a cruel, inconvenient thing. A feeling you don’t want. A feeling you shouldn't have.

Because you love Jaehyun.

You do.

He is steady and kind. He is home when the world feels too fast, when your own thoughts spiral too loudly in your head. He is patient most of the time when you disappear into your work, when you forget to eat, when you crawl into bed hours past midnight with exhaustion clinging to your skin. He is all of these things, and you love him for it.

Sure, you have arguments some times, but Jaehyun is always forgiving, always there to give you the second chances you don't deserve. You're sure that if it were anyone else, they would have been sick of your shit by now — even Jimin.

Right?

You close your laptop.

Milo lifts his head, blinking up at you as if sensing the shift in your mood. You reach out, scratching behind his ears as you force out a quiet laugh. “I’m being stupid, huh?”

He meows in response, unimpressed.

You sigh, pushing the laptop aside as you slip under the covers. Jaehyun stirs slightly, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. His warmth seeps into your skin, grounding you.

You press your face into his shoulder, inhaling deeply. This is comfort. This is safe. This is love.

And that’s that.

So why does it feel like something is slipping through your fingers?

[bueckersleftbraid]

Secret Smiles (Part 1)

paige bueckers x femme!oc

synopsis : In which, Mari and Paige find each other exactly when they need to most. With the odd coincidence of their schedules working together perfectly, Paige fits right into Mari's life. She loves Mari's daughter and can't help but gain feelings for Mari. But is Paige ready to hold such a huge responsibility?

word count : 2.5k (starting off shorter)

authors note : Hi!!! I know it's been over a week since I said I would post this but... here it is! This is my first time writing like this and also my first time posting on here, so I hope you like it. Pls pls pls leave live reacts I will love you forever and ever!!

Chapter 1 : Draft Night

April 2025 - Mari’s POV

The atmosphere of the Brooklyn Academy of Music was magical. It was only the second year in which fans were allowed to come to the draft, and wow, did that make a difference in the energy in the building. There was chatter left and right, everyone eagerly waiting for this year's stacked draft class. And I was right there beside them. I was ecstatic for this year's draft, after Dallas had such a successful off-season with free agency, we were just picking up more power at the draft. Paige Bueckers. Arguably the most beloved college basketball player in the country, who was coming to Dallas as the number 1 pick. The whole team was psyched. 

Paige was a powerhouse player at Uconn, transforming the game every time she stepped on the court. From jumpers, to insane assists, to blocks, to three-pointers, Paige had it all. During her freshman season at UConn, she won all the national player of the year awards she was eligible for—AP Player of the Year, Naismith College Player of the Year, USBWA Women's National Player of the Year and the John R. Wooden Award—becoming the first freshman to receive any of the awards. She was already a basketball legend and hadn’t even stepped foot on a professional court.

I sat three rows back, on the left side of the theater, alongside some stars. Dawn Stayler, head coach of the South Carolina Gamecocks, was two seats to my right, and a few of the UConn players sat to my left, including Morgan Cheli, Sarah Strong, and KK Arnold. I think I saw Ice Brady and Caroline Ducharme sitting behind me, but I resisted being nosy and turning around to see if it was them. I had always been a huge college basketball fan, so my career working in the WNBA was a dream come true. Being one of the social media managers for the Dallas Wings had brought so many opportunities my way, but going to the draft was probably one of my favorites. I got to meet all of the top college players, and talk to them on a friendly level. 

My phone buzzed with a text from one of my closest friends, Rori Harmon. She had been with me through it all at Texas, my beloved alma-mater. Through all of the drama and through the worst break up of my life. Her, Madi, aka Madison Booker, and Mads, aka Madison Skinner, had been my closest friends at Texas, and we still kept in touch.

Ror just saw you on tv, you look gorg !!

Mar mar awww thx ror ily 

Ror good luck tonight, sending you my good juju (watkins lol)

Mar mar tysm i need it lol, call later

Ror liked a message

I slid my phone back into my purse and let my focus set back to the event. From my seat, I could clearly see the floor where they had tables set up for each player and their families. At one of the tables near the front, Paige sat with who I assumed were her parents and her brother, Drew. Her mom and dad looked proud, their eyes scanning the room with eager excitement, while Drew bounced his knee anxiously under the table. I had spotted her other siblings in the crowd, but the table only had room for 4. Unlike her family, who radiated excitement, Paige sat stiffly, her fingers moving rapidly across the screen of her phone. Her shoulders were tense, her brows drawn together in deep concentration as she texted someone—who, I could only guess. A friend? A teammate? Maybe even a coach? Whoever it was, they had her full attention, keeping her locked in a private moment while the rest of the room buzzed with electric energy. For some reason, I wanted to know. I was intrigued by her, and soon enough I would get to know her. I mean, she was coming to Dallas after all.

________

Later that night, at the afterparty…

I had been searching for Paige everywhere. I had made it my priority to introduce myself, as a social media manager for the Wings, but also as a friend. As someone who could be a familiar face once she lands in Dallas, so she didn't feel alone. Finally, I spotted her, in the corner, sipping on a red drink and scrolling mindlessly through her phone. She looked good, Really good. She wore a Louis Vuitton suit, it was a beautiful color, one I wasn't exactly able to pinpoint. It was between a navy and a dark ocean blue. It fit her perfectly, physically, but also her energy. The outfit screamed Paige. With the accessories of silver earrings stacked along both ears, silver rings, and a small silver cross chain hanging from her neck, to her hair, which was down in long waves and had a few small braids scattered throughout, down to the Nike dunks which perfectly matched the color of the suit. I approached her, my yellow silk dress flowing as I walked, but it was no match for her ensemble. I was giving a basic How to Lose A Guy in 10 Days look, while she was… well majestic.

“Paige?” I questioned, in a soft voice, not meaning to startle her. She looked up, meeting my eyes with a small, but definitely fake smile. “Hi, Im Mari, Mari Sanchez. I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm the social media manager at Dallas. Oh- and congrats.” I said with a friendly smile.

“Nice to meet you.” She said, her smile turning more genuine, before her eyes dropped to my purse. My phone was ringing so I pulled it out.

“Sorry, but I have to take this,” I said to Paige before answering, “Hi Nai is everything- oh baby what's wrong? Baby I can’t come home, Mommy’s in New York,” Paige looked at me with curiosity in her eyes as my face was laced with worry. “No baby, Mommy will be home tomorrow okay? Let Auntie NaiNai and Auntie Lyssie tuck you in sweetie. Mommy loves you, kisses, okay- okay- goodnight baby.” I exhaled, slipping my phone back into my purse.

“Everything okay?” Paige asked. She seemed interested in the situation that was happening over the phone. 

“Yeah, sorry about that. My daughter is.. Well she's a handful and Dijonai and Nalyssa are babysitting her tonight while I’m here. She apparently persuaded Dijonai into letting her call me.” I said, shaking my head with a soft laugh. 

“You… you have a daughter? You seem young?” Paige asked. I know she didn’t mean anything by it, but people had always underestimated how good of a mom I could be just because of my age. My daughter, Laila, was the light of my life, and even though having a daughter so young was a struggle at first, I’d grown into an amazing mother, at least in my opinion.

“Yeah, I had her when I was 19, she’s almost 4.” I said with a smile. I loved talking about Laila, it always brought a smile to my face. “You’ll be seeing a lot of her in Dallas, she loves watching practice.” I spoke with a soft laugh.

“Well that’s sweet, I can’t wait to meet her. What’s her name?” 

“Laila. And I’m sure she’ll love you.” I said with a smile, now beaming on my face.

“What about you?” Paige asked. What did she mean? What about me? I looked at her with a bit of confusion before she spoke again. “Will I see a lot of you too?” Oh. Did she want to see a lot of me? Why was she asking that? Real question is, why is Paige Bueckers making me nervous about a simple question?

“Well um.. Yeah. I usually hang around during practice and I’m always at games, team events and stuff like that. Why?” I wasn’t exactly sure the direction this conversation was going so I played the friendly, more professional route.

“No reason,” she paused for a second, her expression unreadable, “I just like your vibe. I think we'll be friends.” Her soft, genuine smile turned into something resembling more of a smirk. Was she really smirking at me? I almost laughed at myself for believing that because as soon as the smirk appeared, it was gone, and back to a soft smile as she took a sip of her drink. 

“What are you drinking?” I asked, looking at the red drink. I was assuming some extravagant cocktail but no, I was completely wrong. 

“A Shirley Temple.” She said nonchalantly.

“A Shirley Temple?” I questioned

“A Shirley Temple.” She confirmed with a soft chuckle before taking another sip of the red drink.

“Well your full of surprises aren't you Ms. Bueckers?” I said with a smile.

“And so are you, Ms. Sanchez.” She said, that smirk flashing across her face again.

Paige and I kept up the friendly chatter for the next hour or so, her asking lots of questions about me, and a few about Laila of course. We talked about Dallas, about how she’s excited for this new chapter. We even talked about so depper stuff, how she’s going to miss Uconn, her friends, her coaches, just her life in Storrs. I sympathized with her, telling her about how leaving Austin was difficult for Laila and I, but we love Dallas. I ended up ordering a few drinks, and the bartender gave me the bill. As I reached for it, I felt Paige’s hand on top of mine.

“I got it.” She said.

“What- no. It's your special night. I’m not letting you pay for my drinks.” I protested. I always felt bad to let people pay for me. Plus- Paige had just been drafted the number one pick in the WNBA, she didn't need to be paying for other peoples drinks.

“Please,” she insisted, “I owe you at least this. Without you, I probably would have been sitting in the corner scrolling through my phone all night.” I sighed, slipping my hand out from under hers.

“Thank you. I’ll buy you drinks sometime in Dallas. Promise.” I said, with a genuine smile. I did actually want to hang out with Paige. She was nice, and for some reason felt like someone I could open up to. Nothing like I expected.

“So you're saying there’s going to be a next time?” She said. And there it was. That smirk. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“It’s a possibility.” I shrugged. As I stood up, I wobbled a little on my feet, the few drinks plus heels were definitely not an ideal situation. But, suddenly I felt a warm hand on my side, balancing me.

“You good?” Paige spoke, her hand grounding me.

“Yeha, yeah I’ll be fine,” I said, waving her off, “I’ll just order an Uber or something.” She immediately shook her head, standing up beside me, her hand still holding onto my waist. 

“Nah, let me just take you back. It’s late, your in a city you don’t know, and Uber’s are sketchy anyway.” her hand slid to the small of my back.

“You really don't have to-”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” She interrupted, pressing her hand a little more into my back as she started to lead me towards the exit, “Where are you staying?”

“The Hilton, on 5th.” I spoke as we neared the exit. It had gotten pretty late and any stragglers were just randoms, no one giving a second thought to the way Paige was leading me out of the door.

“Perfect, same as me. See? It's not even out of my way.” She spoke as she led me out the back entrance and towards a large black SUV. She opened the back door and began speaking to the driver, “Hey Martin, we'll be taking this lovely lady back with us. She’s staying at the same hotel.”

“Of course, Ms. Bueckers.” The older man in the front seat spoke, not even turning his head.

“Please Martin, it's Paige.” She spoke with a soft chuckle as she shut the door behind us. It was freezing in the car, Martin must have been sitting in the car without any heat on. Even though it was April, it was somehow still cold in New York, well at least compared to Texas. Paige looked at me and noticed my arms wrapped around myself. “Here.” She slid off her suit jacket and handed it to me. I gave her a soft smile, draping her jacket over my shoulder and sliding my arms into it. It smelt really good. I had seen her video with GQ earlier this year where she said she wore this one Valentino cologne, but somehow she made it smell better. The cologne was spicy and woody, but layered with Paige’s neutral smell, it was warm and safe. Why was this affecting me so much? God Mari. 

My phone buzzed as Martin pulled out of the parking spot. 

“Hey Nai, how was she?” I answered the phone, a small smile tugging at my lips, “That's good. Okay… yeah, okay. Talk later Nai, love you.” I hung up the phone and gave Paige a small smile.

“So.. um.. I have a couple of questions.” Paige spoke up. She seemed almost nervous behind her confident persona. 

“Sure, what’s up?” I asked, turning my body a little to face her.

“First, you said you had Laila when you were 19 and she's 4… so that would make you 23?” Paige questioned.

“Yeah, good math Bueckers.” I said, giving her a small playful smirk.

“Ok. And are you single?” She asked the question like it was normal. Like it didn’t make me wonder why the hell she was asking it in the first place.

“Um.. yeah. Yeah I am.” I said, trying to hide the effect the question had on me.

“Okay.” She stated nonchalantly, turning back to face forward. I stared at her in shock.

“Okay? You can’t just ask that and then just act like… like that.” I stated, my voice laced with confusion and a bit of frustration. Paige let out a small chuckle before turning back to face me.

“Well I guess I just wondered if you taking me out for drinks was going to be as friends. But I’ve gotten my answer.” She spoke, the smirk that had now become almost a given when she spoke, spread across her face.

“And what is that?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Well. You’ve been sort of eyeing me all night. You talked to me for over an hour. And you invited me to go out for drinks with you. So, I have concluded that you want it to be a date. And that’s fine by me.” She spoke with the utmost confidence, like there was absolutely no way she could be wrong. 

“No- I- I have a daughter, And I don’t date.” I protested, turning to face the window. Paige just chuckled.

“Whatever you say Mar.” Mar? Did she seriously just call me Mar? No one called me that. But why did I sort of like it? Why did it make me feel something in the pit of my stomach? Why was a small smile creeping onto my face as I stared out the window of the car?

God. What are you doing to me Paige Bueckers?

[pastelaspirations]

IT'S FINE. I'M NOT GOING TO HURT YOU, I'M JUST INVADING YOUR HOUSE IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT TO FORCE YOU TO TALK ABOUT YOUR LIL GUY, PERFECTLY NORMAL BEHAVIOR-

ANYWAY, I'M SCREAMING. THANK YOU, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR RAMBLING, I AM EATING YOUR WORDS WITH GREAT ENTHUSIASM. ANGEL LITERALLY LOOKS SO FREAKING CUTE IN THAT SKETCH AND I FREAKING LOVE HER SO FREAKING MUCH, I'M NOT OKAY-

YEE. So, people call me Pastel! :D And that's what I uh... respond to, so uh... I guess that's what I'm called?? Like, I didn't decide that myself, but it's literally just my name now so-

EEEEEEEEEEUUUUUGGGHH, ALRIGHT, YOU ASKED FOR IT. Once I draw my freaking blorbos and infodump about them, I'll tag you, but m a n, that might be a poor decision in foresight because I literally don't know when to stop talking, man

I'M ALSO JUST. FROTHING AT THE MOUTH. DON'T GIVE ME IDEAS, MAN. I DON'T NEED TO IMAGINE MY LIL OCS AS BEING BUDDIES WITH YOUR CUTIE 'CUS IT'S. NOT GOOD FOR MY MENTAL BRAIN ROT RN- (I'm imagining so many scenarios right now of them being buddies, what did you do to me)

Also, I'm just s t a r i n g. THANK YOU, AAAUUUGGH, THIS IS SO GOOD, MAN. THE BACKSTORY IS ABSOLUTE BANGER, I AM SERIOUS. THAT IS SOME GOOD STUFF RIGHT THERE-

Like, you don't understand. Psychological horror and religious trauma?? Those are my j a m. I FREAKING LOVE THOSE THINGS SO MUCH. Ooooohhh my goodness, Reverencetale sounds like such a neat concept, man, I'm not even kidding. It's so creative and interesting, oh my gosh. And poor little Angel, man. She has to deal with so much religious trauma and the ingrained beliefs that it's better to die young and innocent than live long enough to make mistakes and become "impure." Then, he gets ripped out of his world and has his mind warped from the revelation of the multiverse... Uuuugghhh, it's so good, I promise you, I'm actually invested and interested in your au's story <3

I understand being worried about rambling about it though! I was scared before I made my au basically. It is a scary thing making your own au and worrying about how people might react to it. It could turn out to be positive though! I'm writing a fic about mine and flash forward to today, it's my most popular fic and I actually have a fanbase for it now ✧˖°. So you never know, you could ramble about it and get genuine fans for your own au! :D I know I'm already interested!

YEEEEEEE, AND ANGEL'S FAVORITE COLOR BEING PINK IS AWESOME, MAN. Angel's literally so precious. She's dressed so preciously and sweet with all her pink, ribbons, feathers and bells, I love her design so much ;_; (Also, just the lil human, May, being deaf is such a sweet idea. We need more deaf characters in the world <3)

Also, I'm just wheezing. The evil hemangioma is like. So funny and glorious, man. It reminds me of those evil swords in DnD or something. That is such an amazing character concept, I love it-

ALRIGHT, THANK YOU, THANK YOU. I LOVED YOUR RAMBLE. I ATE IT UP. AND F I N E. I GUESS IT'S ONLY FAIR. When I make my ref sheets for my ocs, I'll tag you. YOU'LL BE THE FIRST TO KNOW, OKAY, STOP SHAKING ME, I PROMISE, YOU'RE MAKING ME DIZZY, S T O P-

Also, just.

I have a knack for that weirdly enough. Getting people to care and find newfound love and appreciation for the thing/idea they were unsure about.

AND YOU SHOULD. ANGEL IS A FREAKING SWEETIE PIE AND REVERENCETALE IS AN ACTUALLY BANGER IDEA. I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL-

Did I ever show you guys my Sansona ,, kind of ??

I forget that I ever have one of these , I don’t ever use him - I tried to put him in an au once and it didn’t work out

⚠️ WARNING . Blood and . Hemangiomas ? Blood tumors . There’s an evil blood tumor under the cut !! You’ve been warned !!

[dr9com9ge-ix]

Apparently Sprunki is getting a remaster and Nyanio has said that that they'll be replacing Wenda bc she's the worst of the content farms

Thoughts? Both in general and related to the AU

oh god, Okay opinion time. It’s a long one folks… It’s gonna get maybe a bit emotional and please don’t take my word as gospel or something, Have opinions please! I also use “you” alot when I’m not referring to any specific person/ when I refer to a general person so apologies if I sound accusatory or anything- It’s a habit of speech.

Okay actual stuff under the cut.

Dude can do what he wants, I already know of this news and choice (Honestly I really try not to think about it because it bums me out), The choice to abandon her is understandable considering like… The horrible content that has been made of her and not wanting to use the character anymore. I do despise content farms and what they do to media in general (I used to watch people discuss how bad they’ve gotten in recent years— MAN I also like TADC so I’VE BEEN THROUGH THE WRINGER TWICE MAN. It kind of hurts to see Sprunki so often in them that I stopped watching videos regarding dissing content farms.)

I kind of understand (Though heavily disagree with)people watching some of it in Sprunki’s case because of the lack of story driven media if you only focus on content on YouTube. I’ve tried watching like… I think GameToon’s Sprunki and just was like “Man… These characters deserve so much better than this, I’VE SEEN BETTER DONE WITH THESE CHARACTERS!!! ON TUMBLR!!!” and not to mention them literally stealing OCs and me not having the mental fortitude to handle like… How content farmed content’s tone usually is.

(I WILL REITERATE, I do not think you are a bad person if you watch GameToon’s content and like it-

I just do not like what content farms do in general for a media’s reputation and search results. ESPECIALLY REGARDING SPRUNKI as the creator was literally DOXXED over it as far as I know. Nobody deserves that for just creating things. It’s frustrating and heartbreaking when it happens.

Though watching farms does unfortunately support them and thus they make more and more usually low tier, low brow and if I’m being a pretentious artist… Heartless content. Made for a profit off of something they don’t actually like as much as who they’re targeting. If they did care they wouldn’t have taken other people’s ocs. They would have been consistent with characterization and themes—SHIT They’d probably try to have the SAME VAS for some characters!!!! I only watched some of it solely because someone on the sprunki tag said they gave Jevin a “hot voice” and I ALSO HATE HOW THEY MAKE HIM A VILLAIN A MAJORITY OF THE TIME AS FAR AS I’VE SEEN.)

Actually the whole horrible thing that happened to the creator and a video discussing it is how I got into Sprunki- I felt terrible and went “Why don’t I give into the impulse to draw something from this? I’m sure making something nice of it will be better than… Whatever horrors get spat out for ad revenue.” and I did! I think I do have a kind of underdog bias with a comment under one of the most popular mixes with the original mod going “Why they never use the blue one? :(“ or something so Jevin became my favorite and first to be drawn- With the rest following because I’d genuinely gotten so attached to all these funky little guys!

And regarding Wenda in my AU? She’s not going anywhere.

I would understand if the creator went “Please stop using her in anything.” I would respect that wish (albeit tearfully) but he didn’t he just told people to behave- Not act a fool and such which I don’t think making an AU is that…. It’s just making your take on a media you like as a fan. I’ve already like… Pack bonded with the OG characters and WENDA INCLUDED. I have so much planned for her she’s too important to it and also I think one of my friends would probably get really sad if I ever did just scrap her. I truly just want justice to be done for her (aka GOOD MEDIA THAT CARES ABOUT IT’S CHARACTERS) because I think she’s probably one of the potentially most interesting of the OG bunch if you take away any outside media (Like questions of “why did she do what she did in Horror mode?”, “How was she like previously? Was it a sudden snap or something a long time coming?”) and I think any answer to it is interesting!

I also kind of hate the reductive take of “Too many people do this interpretation of [character], I hate it now!! I’m doing a different one!” I see sometimes so I don’t want to hear about that, Sometimes that’s just the natural assumptions one would make about THE SAME CHARACTERS IN A MEDIA… And that’s an entirely different gripe unrelated to this! Like shush… There are fans of that interpretation and I’d rather you make yours WITHOUT disrespecting other’s interps.

Anyways summary is:

DO WHAT YOU WANT FOREVER!!!!! (as LONG AS YOU AREN’T HURTING/DISRESPECTING PEOPLE!!!!) Love your medias!! Make your arts!! And Sunshine Suburbia! Wenda is staying because… I love her too much. c,: And again DO WHAT YOU WANT FOREVER!!!!

[decadeofjoy-au]

PART 2 OF THE DECADE OF JOY STORY

PART 1: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776920501597749248/tdoj-story-part-1

SETTING: Playcare

MAIN CHARACTER: Maria Harper(Lucky)

OCS in this part and their owners.

Joseph Alma-Doctor tan

Usher Pyper-Stallia abiarts

Aether F. Beaumus-stallia abiarts

Maria Harper-TDOJ

Azure Nilson-TDOJ

Hug-a-gotchi(Jamie Maverick)-Doctor tan

Melly Collen(Sylvia Fordger)-Sweatycowboyqueen

Dainty Dricket(Melody Forager)- Sweatycowboyqueen

Luccy Piccy-multydraws

Connie Stellation-anewbieartist356

Doey

Kissy

———

Maria watched as the other orphans and toys played Truth or Dare. She blinked as Luccy attempted to make everyone laugh as a dare, mostly succeeding before moving on to dare Melly. Maria then looked at Doey and Kissy who was searching for his lost hat before turning to Joseph who was simply sitting in a corner, playing with her hug-a-gotchi. Maria eventually decided that…she didn’t wanna play. Too many toys. If it was just Connie and Kissy then it would be fine but she could count about…8 toys here at the moment and that was just…too much. She let out a sigh and walked a bit closer to the group before sitting down and watching from a distance, feeling at LEAST entertained about what was happening in the large circle.

The game went on for hours before eventually all the toys went off to their own duties. The caretakers stayed and helped send the orphans off to their own rooms back at Home Sweet Home. Maria sighed and followed after the large group of children, making her way to her own room which was placed rather close to Usher’s but not too far from Azure’s space. As Playcare grew darker and darker, mimicking that it was becoming night…Maria took out a book from her shelf and opened it, reading the first few sentences of chapter 1 before groaning and slamming the book shut. The Adventures Of The Word Wizard was honestly her LEAST favorite book…Doey read that WAY too often when he was visiting Playcare…eugh, she’s getting sick of hearing about that stupid wizard’s adventures.

She looked at her door before slowly walking over and hesitantly opening it and peeking outside. Nobody was around, everyone was in their rooms. She slowly closed her door back up and walked over to her bed, picking up her prosthetic and going through all the necessary steps to put it on before immediately grabbing her trusty bat and making her way BACK to her door and opening it up again, this time leaving her room and closing the door behind her.

Maria slowly made her way down the Halls of Home Sweet Home, looking around just to make sure she wouldn’t be caught by any toys. She noticed that Azure’s door was closed and thought about talking to her before deciding that she probably wanted to be left alone. She walked down the long hallway, listening out for any sound. She could make out talking coming from Usher’s room but it was probably just him and Aether having a conversation. They were good friends. After what felt like hours of walking, she opened the doors of Home Sweet Home and made her way into Playcare. It’s dark. Too dark for her comfort…

Maria walked down the side walk and eventually up to the entrance of playcare itself…she quickly made her way up the steps and looked at the…thing…she didn’t know what to call it. But she knew that all the toys entered Playcare through it. It was kinda like…a giant square machine thingy that lifted you into the air. At least that’s how she saw it. Maria shook her head and quickly looked around for…a button or- or a lever…she eventually spotted it and with all her strength, managed to flip it on and quickly get in the machine which slowly lifted her out of playcare…

Hopefully she doesn’t get caught.

———

[vixnarts]

I am not a fan of the comparison of this ANYMORE

When I was a kid, little kid actually, I really loved Hiccstrid (Hiccup x Astrid). When I was 11 years old back in 2014, I fell in love with the How To Train Your Dragon franchise. At first, I didn’t know that there was a fandom of it at that time. Then after 10 years of being in the fandom, I was HORRENDOUSLY bullied out of the fandom. Anytime I drew any of my night fury OCs, my former friend would warn people, cyber stalk me, humiliate me. But anyways when I read Percy Jackson, I started to love Percabeth WAY MORE than Hiccstrid.

Hiccstrid became one of those bland couples that didn’t interest me, I don’t ship them anymore like how I used to. So now here we are as what the title said, so here we go. The comparison of Percabeth to Hiccstrid is REALLY getting old and annoying.. and it’s quite stupid. Sure they share some things in common but I’m starting to get annoyed with the comparisons because I’m a former How To Train Your Dragon fan and I know how Hiccstrid acts. Yes they have some things in common, but they’re not the same as Percabeth. They will NEVER be Percabeth. These are just my opinions, if you don’t like them.. please please ignore this post. I’m not in the mood for conflict

Before I was bullied out of the httyd fandom, I thought it was the coolest thing in the world. But now, bullied out of it, I look at httyd with pain and sadness. I can’t draw my night fury ocs anymore because of it.. which is why I quit drawing them for good.

[uceyliyahh]

IMPERFECT FOR YOU

summary: Miyori and Jey were in a relationship for three years until she saw him laid up with another girl that wasn’t her and it broke her heart so she decided block him on everything and focus on her career until she gets a text message from him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 4964

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Miyori

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

again mdni you have been warned.

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign @li-da-savage @ctinadiva @clubsoft

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic @lilucey @usoinked @christinabae

@celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @justazzi @xbriexx @luvrsluxe @celesteheartsjey @4milly @luuvprincess @yyaktayak @yana3sworld @prettyfilmz

𝖘𝖊𝖎𝖘

JEY I was on the tour bus, trying to relax, but I couldn't help but miss Miyori. We had shared so many wonderful moments together, and her leaving for work left me feeling down. The thought of going back to long distance brought back memories of our previous experience with it four years ago, and it was hard not to feel a sense of sadness.

FLASHBACK - JEY 2022 I found myself at the club, feeling quite inebriated as I sank into the sofa, letting the effects of the alcohol wash over me. My thoughts kept drifting to my girl Miyori, who I missed dearly back home. She chose not to join me on this tour because of her job, and while it was tough for me, I completely understood her decision.

As I opened my eyes, I heard someone calling my name. I saw Trick and Melo with a girl who was quite attractive, but I still thought Miyori was the one who stood out the most.

"Yo! Uce, what's Hannin dawg we wanted to introduce you to Jaida she's new on the NXT roster." Melo said.

I quickly reached out to shake her hand, leaning back in my seat as I took in her presence, glancing up and down at her. She settled beside me, while Melo and Trick exchanged knowing smirks.

"I can see that she is getting comfortable with you, so we finna head towards the bar." He said as him and Trick left leaving me and her alone together.

She started to slide her hand along my thigh, surprising me as I gently pushed her hand away.

"I got a lady back home might wanna chill." I said as she smirked at me.

"Where is she I don't see her?" Jaida said softly.

"She's at home right now so imma need you to back up for real shawty."

She let her hand glide down my thigh, moving slowly toward my groin, making me swallow hard. Then, she gently cupped my chin, pressing her lips to mine before she began to speak.

"I can treat you so much better than her you know?"

The effects of the alcohol were settling in as I arched an eyebrow at her, a playful smirk spreading across my lips. "oh? Really?"

She nodded gently, pressing another tender kiss against my lips, which prompted me to pull her onto my lap as our kiss deepened, our tongues playfully vying for control.

I know this was a huge mistake, and I feel terrible about it. The alcohol clouded my judgment, and I didn't even think about Miyori while I was acting this way.

We broke the kiss, gazing into each other's eyes, which were brimming with desire. I lifted her by the thighs, carrying her out of the club.

As I heard Melo and Trick say something in the distance.

"I knew he couldn't resist I mean look at her she's way better than his girl back at home." Trick said.

"Yeah, I mean his girl back at home is bad but not as bad as Jaida." Melo replied seeing the two leaving out the door.

FLASHBACK OVER.

That night is something I truly regret. When I woke up the next morning and saw Jaida in bed with me, it sent me into a panic, especially with the terrible headache I had. To make matters worse, I saw a post on The Shade Room about me and Jaida leaving the club together. Then I received a text from Miyori saying she was done with me, and it felt like my heart was shattered.

I realized I had made a significant mistake when I stopped hearing from her. It was tough to see her move on and start dating an actor; it felt like everyone was talking about it. I was frustrated with myself for getting involved with someone I barely knew, especially when it felt like my friends were treating her like an object rather than a person.

I’m really glad to have her back in my life; that’s what truly counts. I put in a lot of effort to regain her trust after my foolish choices when I was drinking. I’ve learned from my mistakes, and I promise it won’t happen again.

I was lying on the couch, engrossed in a YouTube video on my phone, when I noticed Jaida coming over. I didn’t even glance up at her; I just kept watching the video, feeling overwhelmed and not ready to handle whatever she wanted to discuss.

"Jey? Hello you hear me talking to you." Jaida said as she waved her hands in my face.

I glanced up at her, my lips pursed in a playful gesture, but I noticed her expression was one of disappointment. Still, I couldn't bring myself to care much about it..

"What'chu want Jaida?" I asked.

"Want I want is for us to work out again like c'mon you can't be really serious about getting back with her right?" I just gave her a bland look knowing damn well that Miyori and I were starting fresh.

"Why are you over pressin' me for? I told you—you and me are done Jaida there's nothing more I can say to that you knew what'chu did." I was just about to return to my YouTube video when I felt Jaida climb on top of me, straddling me gently. She started to plant soft kisses along my jawline and face, capturing my full attention.

I was able to push her away while looking at her as if she had lost her mind, fully aware that I wanted no part in her chaos, especially with the media eagerly searching for any scandal to exploit.

"Yo! The fuck is yo' problem Jaida?" I scolded her.

"You aren't leaving me for some bitch! You knew what you wanted the day we met at the club!"

"That was a fucking mistake! I was drunk and yo' little homeboys just threw you at me like a piece of fucking meat knowing I had a girl back at home!" I noticed Jimmy and Trin approaching the tour bus as we were exchanging words, drawn in by the noise we were making.

They both witnessed another argument between me and Jaida regarding our situation. I keep reminding her that I'm with Miyori now, and that's what truly matters.

"What does she have that I don't have huh?!" She shouted pushing me on my chest.

I placed my phone in my pocket while shaking my head feeling a smirk appearing on my face.

"She has everything that you don't even qualify for, she takes care of me, cooks me food whenever I'm on the road or at home, she shows me affection anything you can think of Miyori's got it fasho unlike you." I bragged standing there with my arms folded over my chest. "And I deeply regretted cheating on her with someone like you."

I noticed her expression shift from anger to sadness as she packed her belongings. Honestly, I wasn't too concerned about it; I would much prefer having Miyori on tour with me instead of Jaida. Jaida has been quite a challenge throughout this entire tour, and I can't help but wish that Miyori were here by my side.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, and when I pulled it out, I saw a message from Miyori. A smile spread across my face as I read her text, and I couldn't help but feel happy for a moment.

Mimi💓 sent a message

Mimi💓: Hiiii Papa I miss you 🥺

iMessage 💬 Joshua🖤: Hey Baby girl I miss you too Mimi💓: wydd Joshua🖤: I just got done arguing with Jaida and imma tell you this now so you won't find out later from someone else but she got on top of me and started kissing me but I immediately pushed her away when she did that Mimi💓: good I'm glad you did that instead of folding Joshua🖤: mmcht see there you go the woman I would be on my knees for is you Mamas don't play Mimi💓: I would be on my knees too Joshua🖤: you'll be on yo' knees alright Mimi💓: OMFG you freaky ass dog but fr when is you coming home? Joshua🖤: my fault 😭 but I should be coming home after this tour is over with hell might have a day off or two before then Mimi💓: ughhh it's taking forever Papa Joshua🖤: whatchu want mamas? Mimi💓: I don't want anything I'm just saying Joshua🖤: you sound frustrated baby girl Mimi💓: Joshua I'm not... Joshua🖤: I know you too well Mimi Mimi💓: oh? really? then tell me what's wrong with me then Mr Fatu? Joshua🖤: you're horny and going through your ovulation process. Mimi💓: .... Joshua🖤: am I correct? Mimi💓: yesss I'm so fucking horny right now and you aren't even here to help me Joshua🖤: that's why I begged you to stay so I could but I understand you have work to do Mimi💓: are you going to be busy later on? Joshua🖤: nah mamas I'm free after tonight why? Mimi💓: maybe we could sleep over the phone tonight on FaceTime I just miss you Joshua🖤: you miss me? Or this dick? Mimi💓: if I say both would you be mad? Joshua🖤: hell nah baby girl you know when I see you again you can take whatever you need from me aight? Mimi💓: okay but I gotta get back to work got clients to talk to I'll call you later Joshua🖤: aight then mamas I love you ❤️ Mimi💓: love you more 🫶🏽

I glanced up after messaging Miyori and realized that Jaida had already left the tour bus, leaving the room feeling so empty. I stepped inside, climbed onto the bed, and found myself wishing it was me and Miyori sharing this space together at that moment.

"Did y'all two break up or what?" Jimmy asked leaning against the door.

"Yeah, I told her what it was between me and Mimi Uce, I'm glad she's gone she was starting to become annoying." I replied while sitting up in the bed.

"A'ight well that's one person who you don't gotta deal with, then what about Mimi's ex boyfriend Aaron?" I raised an eyebrow at him with a a confused expression on my face. "What about him?"

"I'm just saying he's out there where Mimi stay at and he could just show up at her job messing with her about all of this." He said,  My brother was right when he said that her ex could appear at any time, just as I had warned her before. It really bothered me that he could put his hands on her whenever he pleased, especially since I wasn't there to protect her. I truly didn't like that situation at all.

"I told her that but she was begging me not to book a flight to handle his ass saying she could handle it herself."

"Well if he does show up and puts his hands on her again just gon' ahead and book a flight I'm just saying you gotta protect yo' girl." I completely understand, but given that we're currently in a long-distance situation, it will be challenging to shield her from someone like him. "I hear you Uce, I hear you."

☞ MIYORI As I wrapped up my final appointment of the day, I took a moment to tidy my desk, ensuring that everything was organized for tomorrow. I wanted to avoid a chaotic start with files strewn everywhere. Just as I was focused on this task, I heard a gentle knock on my door. Looking up, I saw Kelly's cheerful face peeking in, a warm smile lighting up her expression.

"Hey, girl what's up?" I inquired as I gathered my belongings before finishing my shift, noticing Kelly taking out a bouquet of flowers.

I lifted an eyebrow as she approached me, carrying the flowers. "these are for you and there's a note on it by the way." She said.

I took the flowers from her hands; they weren't my top choice, but they were quite charming. I also picked up the note attached to the stick and read it thoroughly and with care.

'I want us to go out for dinner tonight and have a discussion about some things that don't sit right with me you can meet me at our usual spot where we go for dinner.' - From Aaron

I let out a deep sigh and rolled my eyes as I tossed the flowers and the card into the trash can. I noticed Kelly watching me, her face filled with concern.

"What happened Mimi?"

I shook my head, "it's just from Aaron he wants to see me to "discuss" some things with me that he didn't like." I replied while placing my purse over my shoulders giving Kelly a hug.

"I don't think you should go knowing what he did to you last time especially since Joshua isn't around at the moment."

I understood her feelings and found myself unsure about how to approach the situation with him. Perhaps I should suggest to Jey that he book a flight to visit, but I hesitated, not wanting to impose on him. So, I decided to manage things on my own for now, while keeping him in mind as a possible support.

As I made my way to the car parked outside the building, I switched off the light in my office. I opened the door, tossed my purse onto the passenger seat, and settled into my car.

I found myself torn between two choices: whether to go ahead on my own or to inform Jey in advance about this. Ultimately, I believe it's better to choose the second option. Since we’re in this together, I feel there shouldn’t be any secrets between us.

iMessage 💬 Mimi💓: Papa? Joshua🖤: what's up baby girl? Mimi💓: imma need you to book a flight down here Joshua🖤: is something wrong mamas? Mimi💓: Aaron wants me to come see him for dinner to discuss some things and I'm scared to be alone with him I just need you here if you could Joshua🖤: don't go just go home there's nothing for yall to discuss imma be there Mimi💓: I know you're very busy but I'm just scared Josh Joshua🖤: don't worry so much Mimi imma be there fasho just go home and lock the door okay? Mimi💓: aight then papa I love you so much Joshua🖤: I love you too

As I started my car, I tucked my phone into my purse, taking a moment to check that the coast was clear behind me before backing out of the parking lot and heading home for the day.

I arrived home safely and parked my car in the driveway. As I took my keys and purse from the passenger seat, I felt the need to glance around, ensuring that Aaron wasn’t nearby. With that reassurance, I made my way up the steps toward the front door.

My hands trembled uncontrollably as I finally managed to push the door open, quickly slamming it shut behind me. In the front room, I caught sight of Jasmine, her expression filled with concern as she looked at me.

"Bestie what's wrong? You look puzzled did something happen?" Jasmine asked.

"Aaron wants me to come see him for dinner tonight to "discuss" some things with him but I'm scared he might put his hands on me bestie." I said while sitting down on the couch.

"What?! Girl does Josh know about this?" She asked as I nodded my head. "I told him to book a flight to come just in case it does happen."

I barely had a chance to speak when I felt my phone vibrating in my purse. Jasmine quickly pulled it out and showed me the screen—it was Aaron calling. A wave of panic washed over me as I saw his name flash on the caller ID, leaving me unsure of how to respond.

"Don't answer it Mimi please don't answer it." She begged me.

I chose not to answer the call right away, but he called again, which frightened me. I found myself praying and hoping that Jey would arrive soon to keep me safe from him.

Once my phone went silent, a soft ding caught my attention. I quickly reached for my phone and noticed a text message from Aaron.

Pumpkin 🧡 sent two messages

Pumpkin🧡: don't be like this Miyori you know Jey is just going to cheat on you again

Pumpkin🧡: you can't be that stupid right? You might as well just be with me

I was in disbelief at what I was witnessing. Was this man really out of his mind? Did he honestly think I would return to him after everything? Yet, his words were gnawing at me. What if Jey really did betray me again? Would I be foolish once more for someone who had already broken my trust?

I managed to push that feeling aside, convinced he wouldn’t hurt me like that again. I was uncertain about replying to his messages; they felt so unsettling. Then, my phone buzzed once more.

Pumpkin🧡:  C'mon Baby you know I am right c'mere and bring yo ass outside

I glanced at the message once more, trying to wrap my head around it. He was actually here? All this time? I turned to Jasmine, then back to my phone, feeling overwhelmed and unsure of what to do next.

"I'm here for you bestie I promise I'm not letting you go through this alone."

"I'm fucking scared Jaz like for real, this man is fucking crazy and delusional as hell." I responded seeing a message from Jey popping up on my screen.

Joshua🖤 sent a message

Joshua🖤: I'm otw mamas don't worry aight?

I felt a wave of relief wash over me as I read the message, knowing that Jey was on his way to rescue me from this unpredictable man. I still can’t believe I ever dated him; I never saw the signs of his craziness.

We could hear the door slamming, and it was clear that it was Aaron on the other side, frantically pounding on it. His voice rang out, urging us to let him in before he resorted to kicking the door down.

"Miyori! Come open this fucking door!" Aaron shouted while kicking his foot into the door.

"Fucking leave Aaron! I'm not dealing with you about this! I already made my decision!" I shouted back as I was behind Jasmine.

"You're just a stupid bitch! You think he's really going to love on you again?! He's literally goin to cheat on you! Again!" I wasn't ready to listen—I really didn't want to hear any of this. I understand Jey; I know he made mistakes, but he has shown me that he can win my heart back once more.

I pressed my hands against my ears, trying to block out any words that might hurt me. My love for Jey was as deep as his love for me, and I knew he would do anything for my sake. Suddenly, the front door burst open, and Jasmine and I screamed as we saw him standing there, a smirk playing on his lips.

Jasmine stood firm, positioning herself protectively in front of me as Aaron approached, attempting to pull me away from her. "You might wanna back up Aaron, you're being crazy right now." He just chuckled at her darkly while tilting his head at her.

"I'm not acting crazy I just want her to know what's she's missing dealing with a nigga that cheated on her."

"But YOU cheated on her too so what makes you think that you're better than Joshua?" Jasmine argued back shoving him slightly.

In an instant, he pushed Jasmine to the ground and seized my hair, causing me to cry out in pain as I struggled to break free. He pulled my hair back sharply, forcing me to meet his threatening gaze, and it was clear he was not joking around.

"You know maybe if you were good in the bed and not be in your head a lot we could've stay together but now you're with your ex that would probably cheat on you again." He said.

"Fuck you! You fucking asshole!" I barked while spitting in his face.

He struck me hard across the face, gripping my hair tightly as I felt the tears streaming down my cheeks. With a cruel laugh, he hit me again, and in that moment, I desperately wished for Jey to arrive. I wasn't sure how much more I could endure.

"Look at you princess so pretty when you cry, c'mon cry some more for me." His voice was deep and resonant, sending a shiver down my spine.

As soon as he reached for me again, I collapsed to the ground, my eyes catching sight of another figure forcefully bringing Aaron down. But with each passing moment, my vision blurred, and I could feel my heart racing wildly, as if it might burst from my chest.

I found it hard to breathe, and for a brief moment, it felt as if the walls were closing in on me. I gasped for air, watching the room spin around me, and then suddenly, I collapsed to the floor, and everything went dark.

The final sound that reached my ears was Jasmine's frantic voice, desperately calling my name and shaking me with urgency, begging me to wake up. After that, everything went silent.

☞

JEY As I lay in bed, holding Miyori close while she peacefully slept against my chest, I gently stroked her face. My heart ached as I noticed the mark left by someone else's hand, a painful reminder of the hurt she had endured. It filled me with anger to think that someone could do this to her, all because she chose to be with me again. She deserved so much better.

As I examined my knuckles, now swollen and bruised, I realized it had been too long since I had to fight for someone I cared about so deeply. I felt a sense of relief that I arrived just in time to prevent things from escalating further. When she fell to the ground, a wave of fear washed over me. I noticed Jasmine desperately trying to rouse her, but her efforts were in vain.

Aaron had shoved me away and dashed off, leaving me to refocus on Miyori and her situation. I informed Jasmine that we would be staying at a hotel for the time being, and now here we are.

I noticed my phone buzzing with a call from Jimmy, and as I picked it up, I felt a mix of anticipation and curiosity.

OTP Twin📌: aye man I heard what happened from Jasmine is Mimi good? Jey📌: yeah she good she's just sleeping right now Twin📌: you managed to beat ol' dude ass or what? Jey📌: yeah I did but not enough but his bitch ass ran away before I could do anymore damage Twin📌: damn don't worry tho we gon catch him fasho Jey📌: yeah I hear you Uce Twin📌: so whatchu gonna do now since ol' dude running around knowing where she work and stay ? Jey📌: I'm thinking about bringing her on the road with us until the cost is clear because ion want nun else happening to her you know? Twin📌: I mean yeah since Jaida is gone and yall can have the bedroom together. Jey📌: but I don't know if she'll do that Twin📌: just ask whenever she wakes up just talk to her about it. Jey📌: imma talk to her when she wakes up Twin📌: if she does say yes you gon make sure she's covered? Jey📌: mmcht you know imma take care of her while we are on tour she may not like it because she likes to be miss independent but imma do it regardless Twin📌: aight just making sure but imma let you go I'll see yall tmr then? Jey📌: yeah Twin📌: aight Jey📌: aight

CALLED ENDED

I set the phone down on the small dresser beside the bed, glancing back at Miyori, who was sleeping soundly and snoring softly. A smile crept across my face as I watched her.

I gently ran my thumb along her lips, savoring their softness. As I leaned in to place a tender kiss on her mouth, I noticed her eyes slowly fluttering open, meeting mine with a warm, chocolate gaze.

I looked down at her with a warm smile, gently stroking her cheeks before lifting her chin with my hands. I leaned in to place another tender kiss on her lips, and I felt her respond to the moment.

"Hey, sleepy head, I see that you're awake." I said softly hearing her chuckle at me.

"How long was I out for?" Miyori asked.

"You was out for about like an hour or two." She gave me a nod, her fingers gently gliding over my tattooed chest as she admired the intricate designs of my tribal tattoos.

As my hand glided gently along her back, I traced soft circles, offering her comfort. I could feel her body easing into my touch, and the silence enveloped us. It was in this quiet that I found solace, allowing us to savor this shared moment without the need for words. "I thought you wasn't going to come and save me." She said.

I raised an eyebrow at her, "of course I was coming baby girl I didn't want nothing happening to you Mimi."

I could sense her shifting above me, positioning herself in a way that made me sit up against the headboard. My hands found their way to her hips, holding on tightly, while I felt her arms wrap around my neck.

"I'm glad you came."

"Me too, Ma that's why I need to talk to you about this."

She tilted her head a bit, a look of confusion crossing her face as I softly pressed my lips against her neck. "I want you to come with me on tour Ma, that way he won't be able to put his hands on you ever again and I'll make sure that you're covered." Miyori gazed at me with hesitation, torn between her responsibilities and the need for support. I understood her struggle; this was the only way I could shield her, even from a distance, as she faced this challenge on her own.

"Look I know how you feel about leaving your job and being up underneath me all the time, I promise you imma take care of you mamas I mean that shit."

"What if you get tired of me Josh? How am I supposed to know that we are good? Or how your demeanor changes?" She responded gently as I pressed another tender kiss against her neck. "I'll let you know mamas, I'm tryna do better for you and for us I want this to work." I softly placed kisses along her jawline, locking eyes with her as I watched her surrender to the sensations of my touch.

I could feel her hands gently pulling at my hair, and a soft groan slipped from my lips, a clear sign of my enjoyment. I moved my lips from her jawline to her own, playfully pinning her down on the bed as I intertwined our fingers together.

She raised her hips, giving me a clear signal to remove her shorts and delicate lace panties. As I did, I couldn't help but admire how beautiful she looked, stirring a strong desire within me to explore further, but I held back for the moment.

I got between her thighs making her feel what she had done to me while she looked at me innocently as her hands with playing in my mullet.

"Look whatchu did to me baby girl." I whispered softly.

"I did this Papa? I gotchu all riled up for me huh?" She whispered back placing a kiss on my lips causing me to smirk.

"Mhm, you know just how to get me there mamas." With that she was tugging on my waistband begging me to take my grey sweats off for her while I shook my head causing her to pout. "Un-Un, lemme' take care of you first then you'll get whatever you want you hear me?" Miyori nodded her head obeying me while my face went between her legs.

I began massaging her pussy in slow circular motion as she arched her back by my touch, she felt so wet and all I did was place kisses down her body and she was soaked, I sticked two fingers inside of her slowly pumping them in and out hearing her sweet moans escaping her pretty lips.

"F-fuck..." she whimpered softly gazing down at me.

"look at you mamas, so fucking wet for me."

"J-Josh...Please..." I love it when she begs for me she knows who is in control this time. "What's up Ma? What'chu want huh? talk to me."

I sped up my pace with my fingers causing her to roll her eyes in the back of her head watching her lose consciousness gripping onto my biceps.

"Please...please...fuck me daddy please."

I smiled at her pulling my fingers out of her kissing her lips.

"See was that so hard huh? C'mere so I can take care of you mamas."

Me and her made love for the rest of the night with her screaming from the top of her us probably the neighbors could hear us and with me whispering nasty and vulgar things in her ear just to get her off before I did seeing the mess that she was making on me.

She was making those puppy eyes that just turned me on even more knowing that she was trying to get away from this shit giving her that reassurance.

"I know, I know, mamas keep taking it for me aight? There you baby girl...fuck." I whispered softly in her ear while hearing her whimpering.

In the heat of the moment, we completely missed the sound of her phone buzzing, the flash indicating she had received a message. It felt like something to address later, so we chose to focus on what was happening right then.

Pumpkin 🧡 sent a message

Pumpkin🧡: I see that you got your fucking mutt to save you but I promise you he won't save you after I'm done with his ass I promise you that.

IMPERFECT FOR YOU

A/n: Well Jey and Aaron have finally met will Jey be able to protect her from Aaron?

But I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below ⬇️

STAY UCEY.

[joonjuul]

hii im the same person who said i refresh ur page everyday idk if u remember 😭 idk if this is something u would be into doing but a req id love to see is like maybe kidnapped.. stockholm syndrome dom!(whoever) x sub!reader i think itd be so cute and i love ur writing so much <3 pls lmk if this is too much i can req smth else..

bound2. jjk

pairing: kidnapper!jk x victim!reader

wc: 5.4k

warnings: obsessive!jk, possessive!jk, soft&harddom!jk (he’s a little bit of both), slightlysadistic!jk, sub!reader, desperate!reader, they’re both down bad, kidnapping, oc sleeps in a grungy basement, slight choking, slight manipulation, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), creampie, oral (f receiving), jk is a munch, overstimulation (f receiving), pet names, (pls lmk if i missed anything!)

a/n: tysm anon for requesting !!! i love this idea so i hope i did okay executing it for you !!! this was a hot mess to write but god am i a mess rn after writing it phew, PREPARE YOURSELVES

he was a good man, that was what he told himself when he looked in the mirror each morning.  he was protecting you, loving you, providing you with all the attention and care you deserved.

or at least that’s what he thought.

it’s been two years now, but things felt different.  when jungkook first saw you, he was intrigued, almost as if it was love at first sight.  you were at home, spending time in your garden as you often did in the spring, and he happened to be driving by.

everything about you was special, unlike any other.  the way your hair carefully trailed over your shoulders, your perfectly smooth skin.  he had never seen a woman quite like you, and he needed to know more.

each day he found a way to get closer to you, whether that be by finding out which grocery stores you shop at, or sitting beside you on the train.  never once did you notice that his face became slightly more familiar with each ‘coincidental’ bump into each other.

it wasn’t until the day he spoke to you did he realize that you needed to be his.  girls didn’t smile at him, nevermind speak to him so kindly and softly.  it was so simple, yet it changed the course of both of your lives completely.

but it’s been two years now.

it was scary at first, being away from home, unsure of whether or not you’d survive, but he cared about you.  he always made sure to feed you, bring you water, spend time with you.  and with each passing day you only became closer, and closer.

and when he wasn’t around, you started to notice a strange feeling inside of you — almost like a sense of anxiety.

it was almost like after all this time, there was a sort of attention he gave to you that you subconsciously craved, it was like you couldn’t live without it, and as strange as it was, it didn’t feel wrong.  after all, jungkook was a good man.  he never laid a hand on you, nor touched you without your consent, in fact he rarely touched you at all unless you initiated it.  it was like after all this time, you knew that he could be trusted, and that he simply cared about you in ways that were different from others.  in some ways, his love was beautiful.

“y/n?” you heard the softness of his voice as he opened the door to your room, the warmth of the main house seeping into the surrounding concrete as he shut the door behind him and approached your fragile frame.

you turned to face him, eyes lighting up as your gaze fell to his hands, carefully holding a small box perfectly wrapped and topped with a bow.

“kookie!  what’s this?” you lunge forward to grab the box only to watch his hands quickly retreat.

“ah ah ah!  not so fast, little one.  now tell me, do you know what today is?” he softly falls down to your level, his knees meeting the cold floor as he watches you rearrange your stance on the flimsy mattress.

you nod your head excitedly, “it’s been two years!  i marked it on my calendar every day!” your eyes flick to the small calendar taped to the wall, each day crossed off with a blue crayon as they were the only objects he let you have when you first arrived.

“yes that’s right, baby!  happy anniversary!” he extends his hands to you and watches as you excitedly grab the box, peeling the paper off quickly until you’re met with what seems to be a box made for jewelry.

“listen, before you open it any further.  i want you to know that i think you’re ready for this.  i feel like we’re strong enough, and i think you’ve finally come to your senses about what’s good for you and what’s not, yes?” his tone is gentle, but you can feel the seriousness through his voice as you look up at him.  the way his brows furrowed tightly together made you nervous.  he’s never gotten you a present so formally before.

your fingers fumble with the box briefly until you’re able to lift the top.  your eyes widen as your heart pauses in your chest briefly, your breath immediately becoming shallow.

“what is this?” your voice is shaky as you wrap your hand around the small metal object.  it was certainly a metaphor, or maybe even a bluff, he couldn’t be serious.

“your freedom, if you so choose, darling.” he smiles at you reassuringly before tucking a hair behind your ear.  you tighten your grip on the key, realizing now how serious this truly is.

he was letting you go?

“i don’t understand, kook.”

he lets out a small sigh before sitting on the mattress beside you.

“i think you’re ready to choose whether or not you want to stay.  you know now how much i love you, how well i’d take care of you, adore you, in any way i possibly can.  you have me wrapped around your finger, sweetheart, but i no longer feel obligated to keep you wrapped around mine if it’s not what you want.” he places gentle pats on the back of your head as he speaks, the small smile on his face reminding you that he’s being truthful, yet still you were unsure.

“do you not… want me anymore?”

his eyes widen at your question as he uses his hand on your head to pull you against his chest.

“of course i do, baby.  this is something i’ve been thinking about for a while, i wanted to simply show you how much i love you, never bring any harm to you.  sure i may have became a little overzealous, but at the end of the day, i want you to be safe and happy.  if that’s with me, you can come upstairs and join me the way you deserve.  if not, i’ll let you go.” you pull away from his chest, cheeks feeling warmer than before as you listen to his words.

you missed your home, your family, your life.  but you knew if you left, you’d miss him even more.  your body was screaming at you to run, use the key and finally escape, but your heart was begging you to stay.

your eyes flicker between his for a moment.  you’d never even seen the rest of his house.  what if it was cozier than yours?  what if it was better than home?  he did take awfully good care of you, and you were beginning to enjoy his company, his endless affection.

you gripped the key tighter momentarily before holding it back out to him, placing it gently in his palm without a word.

he looks at you, his eyes filled with surprise as he wraps a hand around yours.

“are you sure?” his voice is soft, laying over you almost like silk as you carefully nod your head in return.

“i’m sure.  i want to stay.  i want to be with you.” you watch as his eyes light up, his reassuring smile now turning into a huge grin as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him tightly.  his breath is warm against your neck as he inhales your scent in deeply, his fingers tightening against your waist before letting you go completely.

“i knew you were the one, the second i laid eyes on you.” he brings his hands up to the sides of your face, cupping it gently, the feeling of his hands against your cheeks making your stomach flutter.  if there was one thing about jungkook, it was that he was a gentleman.  within the two years you’d been ‘held captive’, he never once made any advances towards you.  you’d be lying if you said you didn’t wish he would at times — the nights where you find yourself with your hands between your thighs, imagining what it would feel like to have him there instead, what his perfectly tattooed arms would look like on either side of your head, or his skilled fingers inside of you.  even the slightest touch from him could drive you into a frenzy, especially since the last time you’d been with a man was well over three years now.

you quickly shake the thoughts from your mind and send him a gentle smile, feeling him engulf a hand within yours as he walks you to the door of your bedroom.

“are you ready, sweetheart?” he turns back and looks at you carefully, examining your expression for any signs of discomfort or uncertainty, but there was none.  he was your person now, it just took you being kidnapped to realize it was him all along.

“i’m ready.”

you follow behind him, practically stepping on his feet with excitement as he travels throughout the house, letting you look at every nook and cranny you wanted, before you finally landed on his bedroom.

“this is my room, our room, darling.” he opens the door carefully, allowing you to enter freely as you slowly walk in.  it was simple, yet dark.  the walls were painted black, bed littered with blankets and various instruments scattered throughout the room.

you approach a guitar leaning against the wall, leaning down to examine the stickers plastered on the wood.

“do you play?” you ask, your voice gentle as you trace the pads of your fingers against the strings.

“sometimes.  not as much anymore.” he takes a seat on the bed behind you, watching you carefully.  he’d never seen you so intrigued in something before, not something related to him, it was almost vulnerable.

“why’d you stop?” you turn your head slightly, landing on his built figure sitting on the bed calmly.

he shrugs, leaning forward so his arms were resting on his knees.  “something came up.” he smirks, and you can feel your cheeks blush at the thought of him putting his life on hold to take care of you.

you stand up, approaching the edge of the bed and sitting beside him.

“kook, can i ask you something?” your eyes are wide as you face him, somehow still filled with innocence and he can feel his dick twitch at the sight of you sitting so politely on his bed, what would now be both of yours.

“of course, darling.”

you gulp slightly, subconsciously fidgeting with your fingers as you build up the courage to talk to him in what feels like such an intimate setting.  it was different like this, without the safety of your concrete bedroom.

“how much of your life did you put on hold for me?”

jungkook chuckles slightly at your question, but tries to respond as best as he can.  “well, most of it, baby.  i still work obviously, but you’re kinda time consuming.”

“do you have like… friends?”

“i have you.” he reaches up and tucks a hair behind your ear as he speak, causing another wave of butterflies to rush through your stomach.

you pause for a moment, gaining a little bit more courage as you speak again.

“do you have like, girl friends?”

jungkook quirks a brow at your question.  “what are you getting at, baby?”

you continue to fidget slightly as you speak.  “well you must’ve… dated girls, right?  i don’t know you don’t talk about stuff like that.”

jungkook smiles at you, admiring your cuteness, “i’ve dated women, yes.  but none like you.  and none since i met you.”

“did you… do this with them too?”

his cheeks flush at your question, slightly embarrassed at the situation he got himself in by meeting you.

“no, you’re the only one.  and honestly, i didn’t really plan for it.  i just had to have you.” his voice is laced with desperation as he speaks, recalling the moments leading up to your kidnapping.  he knew there was no avoiding how you made him feel, it was like his desire for you overpowered every moral and every fiber in his body.

“why are you asking all this, love?” his voice is soft as he places a finger under your chin, lifting your face to his level.

“i don’t know.  it’s just— it’s hard to explain— when you’re down there— i don’t know— sometimes i get—“

“needy?”

you feel a heat rise between your legs at his voice, the words falling past his lips, the closeness of his skin, all of it.  you’re only able to send a small nod to him in response.

“i know, i understand.”

your eyebrows furrow together, “you do?”

“well you didn’t think i would leave you in that room completely unattended, did you?  i gotta keep an eye on my girl.” you feel a sense of confusion wash over you at his words, until it’s followed by a wave of realization.

cameras?

all those times you laid atop your blankets, fingers between your legs, forehead covered with a sheen of sweat, moaning out… moaning out for him.

you feel your cheeks flush as you pull away from his touch in embarrassment, causing him to chuckle slightly, moving closer to you in response.

“don’t be embarrassed, baby.  it’s normal, i mean you were down there for so long, you had to do something to keep yourself busy, hmm?”

“why didn’t you tell me?  why didn’t you… help me?” the twiddling of your fingers has intensified now, your skin practically burning up as you avoid his gaze.

jungkook smiles at you, even if you didn’t see it, and takes your fumbling hands in his reassuringly.

“because i knew you’d stop.  i wouldn’t take away the only thing you could do to keep yourself satisfied.  and i didn’t want to touch you until you were ready, until you asked for it.” as comforting as his words were, knowing that he cared about you enough to respect your boundaries, you wanted to scream at him.  all those nights that you were writhing in desperation, and he was simply watching upstairs?

he watches as your eyes dart aggressively, your mind wandering and he taps your hands gently, pulling them closer to him.

“hey.  i know it doesn’t feel like it, but you’re in control.  you always have been.  trust me, it was hard for me too.”

“how did you do it?  how did you not come in?” jungkook remembers every time like it was engraved in his mind.  he always checked up on you throughout the day, he had motion alert notifications, and the first time he saw it, he almost went breaking down your door.  he never missed an alert after that.  every time you were moaning downstairs, he was moaning upstairs.  the thought of you both gaining pleasure from each other, at the same time, without the other knowing drove him more wild than the fact that he wasn’t the one being able to satisfy you.  but jungkook was a patient man, he never wanted to rush you nor make you feel pressured into doing something you didn’t want to.  he knew when the time was right, you’d be begging for him the same way he begged the universe to let you fall into his life.

“good self-control?” he responds carefully, gauging your reaction as your face contorts with confusion.

he places another hand under your chin, gripping it slightly and holding it to face him.

“i didn’t want it to be like that.  you deserve more.  you deserve all of me, all i have to offer, and that definitely isn’t it.” he speaks again.  you were unable to distinguish your emotions.  why did your body crave him so bad?  crave his comfort, his validation?  you constantly ached for his touch, his attention — it felt almost sinful.

“i want all of you, kook.  i have for a very long time.” you place your hands on his chest for what might be the first time ever.  his shirt tight against his muscles, you wanted to roam every inch.

he lets out a groan, your words and touch making his pants tighten.  he didn’t lie when he said he hadn’t been with anyone since long before he met you.

“you don’t know what you’re asking, baby.” his voice is strained, his hands falling to his sides as he pulls away from your touch.

“tell me you don’t want me, and i’ll stop.” your hands begin to travel, running over his taught muscles, down to his stomach.  every inch of skin untouched, the tension only growing thicker with each passing second.

“if i start i won’t be able to stop.” his restraint was frustrating, but it only made you want him more.  your hands continue to fall before landing on the waistband.  he tosses his head back quickly before grabbing your hands.

“then don’t.  you don’t have to be gentle with me, i don’t want gentle.” you lean forward, your face only inches away from his as you wait for him to release your hands, to allow you to finally become one.

“you don’t have to hold back anymore.” your voice is nearly a whisper as you slowly close the distance between the two of you, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.  you pull back briefly, eyes scanning his carefully before you feel him release your hands, bringing his up to your face before pulling you into him — your lips meeting passionately.

he was consuming, his lips feverishly fighting against yours as his hands fall to your waist, pulling you closer towards him.  everything about him was hot, his skin, his mouth, his breath, it was all too much, especially after so long.

he brings a hand around your neck, gripping it slightly before pulling you off him.

“i tried to be patient.  i tried to be good.  but you?  you don’t want good, do you?” his voice is low as he uses his hold on your throat to push you against the bed, your back meeting the soft mattress gracefully as you watch him bring his hands to the neckline of his shirt, pulling it over his shoulders swiftly.

he was… beautiful.

the tattoos scattered perfectly along his arm, his sensually toned stomach, the shaggy hair sat atop his head — he was indescribable.

he smirked playfully and leaned down above you, ducking into the crook of your neck to place gentle kisses on your skin.  you could feel yourself go red, a heat overwhelming your body from your face to your core.

“i need to feel you, taste you, make you mine in every way possible.” his voice is husky, but barely a whisper as his mouth travels down to your collar bone, his hands easily finding the hem of your shirt to tug it over your head quickly.

“so beautiful.” he breaths, his mouth latching onto any piece of skin he can find, his hands roaming your body skillfully as your eyes wire shut, your panting and whining the only sounds filling the room.  he made you wait so long, how could you possibly contain yourself now?

“kook, i can’t — think…”

“then don’t.  just let go.  i’ve got you.” he brings his hands to the waistband of your pants, carefully bringing them down almost as if he could break you, a deep contrast to his roughness before.  your mind is completely lost, totally consumed in his every movement that you don’t even realize his gaze fixated on your core.

“fuck, baby.  you’re soaked.” he falls between your legs, his grip on your knees spreading you apart even further as he inhales your scent, watching as your body quivers.  he runs his hands along your legs, a small attempt to soothe you as he drops his face eye level to your core.

“shh, i know, baby.  it’s a lot, isn’t it?  but you can take it.” he places a small kiss on your clit and watches your body jolt in response, a small grin appearing on his lips as he realizes just how sensitive you really are, his hands falling to your waist to hold you down as he licks a stripe up your core.

you’re unable to contain the moan that escapes your throat as your hips buck up involuntarily, his hold barely doing anything to keep you in place.

“look at you—so sensitive, so perfect for me.  you can take it, right baby?” his eyes meet yours for a moment, your chest heaving as you nod in response, your hands falling to his hair as you grip it tightly, admiring his cheeky grin before his face disappears between your thighs, his mouth immediately latching onto your core.

“ooh—fuck.” you moan out, his hands fighting against your hips as you attempt to grind against his tongue freely.  every lick sending shots through your body as your mind begins to spiral.

it made you drunk—he made you drunk.  it was like you could feel every bump on his tongue, the pressure of his finger tips in your sides, the feeling of his soft hair twisted between your knuckles.  it was perfection, and you were wasted on him.

you can feel yourself begin to melt into him, his tongue endlessly working on your core, slipping between your clit to your center as his grip on your sides loosen as he feels you begin to relax.

“k-kook—fuck—please.” you mumble nonsense, the feeling of his hand gliding from your side to your stomach as he presses down gently making you almost dizzy, his mouth never once fumbling as he keeps up a persistent pace, your movements now less rutty and more intense as you ride his face softly.

your legs begin to tense, a coil in your stomach building as you clench around his head tightly, causing him to gently pry your knees apart as he pulls away from you, his chin dripping with your juices as he wipes it with the back of his hand.

“that’s my girl.” he coos, his hands landing on his boxers as he begins to peel them off.  “you’re doing so good for me… think you can take a little more?” his question rings aimlessly through your head as you watch his cock spring free, the tip red and angry as it leaks precum.

he was big.  i mean you hadn’t been with anyone in a long time so you didn’t have much to compare him to, but he was certainly bigger than you were used to.

jungkook notices your hesitation and leans down, his lips meeting yours in an intimate kiss, your mouths moving together skillfully before he pulls away.  his eyes are soft, almost reassuring as you feel the head of his cock press softly between your legs.

“look at me, baby.  i need to hear you.” he nudges your chin with his finger to redirect you.

your body is humming, on edge, oversensitive yet somehow you still crave more.  it’s like he could never give you too much, you just want him completely and fully, whether it hurts or not.

“i don’t know if i can take it all.” your voice is shallow as you feel a sense of shyness take over, your nervousness getting the best of you.

he smirks darkly and brings his tattooed hand up to your face, soothing the stickiness of your skin with his simple touch.

“my sweet girl, i’d never give you more than you can take.  i’ve got you, baby.  just let go.” his voice is sweet, the sound almost sending you into coma as you feel the head of his cock nudging at your core.  his hands carefully fall to either side of your head, his mouth dipped into the crook of your neck as he peppers gentle kisses on your hot skin, the dull burning in your core barely noticeable behind the mindless praises he whispers into your ear.

“that’s it, baby.”

“so perfect for me.”

“fuck—you’re so tight.”

“just a little bit more, sweetheart.” 

before you’re able to fully respond or digest his words, he’s already bottomed out.  his forehead buried in your neck as his breath is unsteady.  he’s practically panting as his hips stall, the silence filling the room as he tries to regain his composure.

“kook—“ you whine, wiggling your hips slightly until he quickly brings his hands down to hold you in place.

“fuck—i need a second, baby.  don’t move.” his voice is laced with desperation and tiredness as his cock twitches inside you, making your stomach nearly flip.

your movements become restless now, your body fighting against his hold as you beg for some sort of friction.

“please… i need to feel you.” your voice is a whimper as your breath quickens.

“stop fucking moving, or i’ll take my dick out of you.” he snaps, his tone no longer a warning as you fight the urge to grind up into him.  you’d never seen him so mad before, and it was only making you want him more.

your body trembles as you fight the urge to hold still, your hips shifting involuntarily as hushed whimpers fall from your lips.  you wanted so bad to be good for him.

“kook—please.” you beg.  he lifts his face to meet yours, his eyes hooded and low as he sees how fucked out you look, he wanted nothing more than to destroy you right then and there.

“if you don’t stop, i’ll take you how i want you, right now.” he shoots you a glare, but it’s not one of dominance, but rather a warning, one of his slipping self control.

“i don’t care… take me, just please don’t make me wait.” you beg, and with one last rut of your hips, he’s pushing you deliberately further into the bed as he pulls his hips back and begins a rough pace on your cunt.

the speed takes you by surprise as you double over, your arms instinctively gripping his back as your nails drip down his skin, his cock prodding the lower half of your stomach with his length.

“you just don’t know how to shut that pretty little mouth of yours, do you?” he grunts, the feeling of your nails in his back only spurring him on more as he continues his tireless pace.

“oh-fuck-jungkook.” the feeling of his cock stretching you completely is nearly painful, it’s like he was punishing you, the roughness of his thrusts sending shockwaves through your body.

“this is what you wanted, isn’t it?  you wanted me to lose control, to fuck you like this.” he wraps an arm under your knee as he pushes it against your chest, the new position sending your head spinning as his cock drills directly against your g-spot.

“t-too much, kook—“

“aww my pretty baby.  you were practically begging me to fuck you like this, and now you can’t take it?” his tone mocks you, mocks your state and your eyes widen as you feel him begin to slow his hips.

“come on, i want to hear you beg for it again.  you wanted it hard, remember?” he smirks down at you as his hips nearly come to a complete stop.

you’re now a whimpering mess, your lower body squirming as you whimper out to him.

“what is it baby, hmm?  do you want more or not?” he leans down, his head in the crook of your neck again as he breathes out, his cock slowly stretching your walls as he awaits your response.

“ugh—kook.  please.” he smiles into your skin as he hears you fall back into a vulnerable state, losing any sense of control you thought you might have as he begins to pick up his pace again, moving your legs to wrap around his waist as he rolls his hips up into you sensually.

“such a whiny little brat.  is this better for my baby?” his voice is deep, the raspiness of it sending a shiver down your spine as your body naturally meets his movements, the two of you moving perfectly in sync as he molds into you, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

every thrust, every roll of his hips, random kiss on your neck or whisper into your ear, it was all deliberate.  it was like he knew your body perfectly without ever touching it, like he knew exactly what buttons to press that made you want to claw the skin off his back, and it wasn’t long before you felt the coil in your stomach return.

your moans are falling freely now, your grip on his shoulders tightening as you find anything to ground you, but your mind was completely lost in the moment, spinning nearly a million miles an hour, and it wasn’t long before jungkook noticed your dilemma.

“that’s it, just like that… you’re close, aren’t you, baby?” he rasps into your ear, his kisses falling down to your collarbone as he brings his hands up to your head, soothingly pushing the hair out from your face, and it only made the coil in your stomach tighten more.

you were a moaning mess, everything falling freely from your lips without any sense of reasoning.

“look at you, so desperate for it.” he speaks carefully, pulling away from your chest.  he brings a hand to the back of your head before pulling you into an intense kiss, his hips still holding their pace perfectly as you finally topple over the edge, your body convulsing around him as your legs shake relentlessly, causing him to bring his other hand to the legs around his waist to stabilize them quickly.

before you’re able to fully grasp how hard you came, you feel him gently lay your head back down before bringing his body up above you, admiring the mess between your thighs as his pace begins to get rougher again.

“you have no fucking idea how good you feel, do you?” he feels his balls twitch at the sight of your legs, covered in a mixture of your juices, shaking relentlessly as you try desperately to recover from your high, blissfully unaware of his quickening pace.

“ahh-kook.” you squeal, your mind finally returning as you feel his cock nudge your already sensitive g-spot with every thrust.

he leans down once more, gripping your hands in his as he brings them over your head to hold you in place, your body fighting involuntarily from the dull pain building inside of you.

“fuck, i don’t want to hurt you baby, but i need you so bad… just hold out a little longer.” his thrusts are messy as he feels himself begin to reach his high as well, the tightening of your cunt only making it harder for him.

“i can’t—too much.” you squeal out, your arms wiggling harshly in an attempt to escape his hold, but it’s no use, not when he’s so close, not when you feel so good.

he feels his cock twitch at your resistance, a sadistic side of him brewing, one that he’s fought to keep hidden.

he stifles a groan, his head dipping down as he fucks into you rougher.

“fuck—please don’t beg, you’ll just make it harder.” 

his hips are now at an inhumane pace, your body going completely numb as his cock drills into you relentlessly.  it seems like it’ll never end, your cunt only getting tighter with each thrust as every nerve inside of you begins to tense.

“fuck—close baby.” he barely whispers before you feel his hips bottom out inside of you, his cum filling you up completely as it seeps into your walls with ease.

he ducks his head down, catching his breath for a moment before realizing the intensity of the situation.  he brings his hand down to his cock and pulls it out carefully, trying his best not to fixate on how perfect your cunt looked when it’s pulsing red and spitting out his cum.

he quickly addresses the state of your body, shaking under his touch as he wraps an arm around your back and pulls you close to him.

“you did so well, baby.  are you okay?” the gentleness of his voice pulls you back to reality and you find yourself quickly falling into his arms, his touch consuming you indefinitely. 

you nod against his chest, your frame feeling slightly more fragile than normal as he swiftly picks you up and carries you to the bathroom, cleaning you as best as he can.

“my sweet girl, you’re mine, you’re safe.” he coos, peppering affectionate kisses and touches on your skin with every piece he cleans.

it was like you were meeting him all over again, a different side of him that you had yet to experience.  even if it was scary at first, you knew that you couldn’t live without him, even if you wanted to.  you were his whether you liked it or not.