#The only thing I look forward to is maybe spending time with him

[eraserbread]

so we have ex-husband nanami... WHAT ABOUT EX HUSBAND GOJO? 😋

you and gojo, split amicably... or, so he thought.

on the other hand, you were a mess. drinking every night, calling out of work, constant migraines, hangovers, and fatigue. it was as if this divorce was eating you alive. worst part is, gojo was doing great.

it was one of those nights again -- head hanging between your shoulders as the ground spins with drunkenness. you were too depressed to go to a bar, so you picked up quick, shitty mixed drinks from the convenience store and swallowed them whole. now, your phone was staring at you with a vengeance, begging for attention.

your lock screen is a picture of you two in kyoto when things were still good. it was taken by a friendly stranger. your arms are slung over his neck, and you smile in his face. he smiled back. you miss him so much.

blame it on your lockscreen, or blame it on the alcohol, but you reach for gojo's contact unashamed. you'd beat yourself up about it tomorrow, but if you didn't tell him exactly what you were feeling, that might kill you right now.

so, you call him, but he doesn't answer, not even mentioning that it's well past 3 a.m., but that doesn't really matter. gojo rarely sleeps; you know he's awake.

but you're still met with his empty voicemail box, swallowing when you realize you must speak to make yourself known. after all, it's been long enough—gojo could've deleted your number by now.

"uhm... hi." you slur, leaning forward into an empty palm. "gojo, it's me. i was just wondering how you were. it's all been a lot lately. but, um, call me back, okay? I lo—" you catch yourself. force of habit. "bye."

then you spend the rest of your night lying numb on your loveseat, arms wrapped around your lonely heart. minutes could've passed -- maybe it's an hour. all you know is the only thing that pulled you from your thoughts was the ding of a new message.

blearily, you reach for your phone.

from: gojo satoru you sound pretty bad. come over?

you should've known. you're gullible enough to take a taxi over here in the middle of the night hungry for reconciliation. instead, it leads to gojo pulling you into his home, glossy lips sucking yours into his mouth.

it's a kiss you haven't experienced in months -- needy, heady, loveless. his hands are all over you, the room is dark, his eyes are so bright. he doesn't even say a word.

but he leads you to his bedroom like he never left. it's what he knows you need -- to loose your mind with one orgasm after the next. he knows how to pull it out of you like a science now, and knows you loved being manhandled.

and it makes it easier to toss you into his unmade bed now that you aren't his doting wife. you're just a drunk hookup, panty-less and opening your legs long before he tells you to.

you feel like a whore, gojo doesn't talk, hardly looking at you when he stuffs his long cock into you. squelching against the rivers you exert for him, he doesn't even say your name, he just grips you harder.

and you fall into old ways, rutting like jackrabbits, bed screeching along the floor. pinning you to the mattress, arms raised high above your head, gojo drills you down in missionary, watching the way you're trembling and refusing to open your eyes and look.

you know gojo's vision is like x-rays, he'll read the shame in your gaze if you let him. it takes every ounce of self-control not to give in.

grunting into your ear like he's running a painful marathon, gojo pulls that first orgasm out of you in shivering cries and pleas of his name. he's fucking you so good, kissing your cervix raw with every thrust.

then, he's cumming in quick thrusts, grunts speeding up before evening out. it's all he's saying, tiny whispers of 'fuckin-' and 'yeah?' slipping from his lips if you're lucky.

and, it's so odd. when you were his, he used to purr your name, calling you every type of beautiful and magical in his presence. he used to take his time working you over, fingers light in fear of hurting you.

now, he's bruising you to the bone, fucking you like it was a sport and not even offering you his sensuality. your gojo is an entirely different person.

now, you're ashamed. it hurts to finally admit, but he didn't feel like your husband anymore.

[slippinmickeys]

Familiar (1/?)

I have always had this idea of writing a fantasy-like AU where unbeknownst to her, Scully is a witch and Mulder has been cursed as her familiar, spending his days, ‘Ladyhawke’-like, as an animal, and his nights as a man.

You'll recognize the first chapter as something I wrote as a one-shot and posted in my AU Prompt Collection where it collected dust. But I haven't been able to get this story out of my head and I'm going to post it here in it's own space while I mull where to go with it. I know I promised no new long-form new fics and I meant it; that said, this may or may not turn into something. And I won't have a lot of time to work on it. I'm still having fun with Funfetti and other prompts, but when the muse calls you, you have to follow that bitch, so: here it is.

Dana wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders and looked up at the green underbelly of the canopy. The oak leaves were still, but something stirred just above her head—a fluttering movement too deliberate to be the wind.

She reminded herself that feathered things flew in daylight, that she was safe. But deep down, she knew the truth: other things, darker things, flew at night. A swallow of unease tightened in her throat, and she quickened her pace. The sunlight, after all, was dying.

There was an old crofter’s cottage near the edge of the wood, just beyond the remnants of a Roman road. If she could reach it, she could rest. The roof would surely leak, and the place would be damp as a toad’s foot, but it was better than sleeping beneath open sky. Not with that creature still following her. Not with the shouts of witch still ringing in her ears.

She glanced back. The path was empty. But she felt it—the presence in the undergrowth, biding its time. Stalking her with patience.

It had followed her for three days now, slipping through the edges of her vision. Too fast to be human. It had been with her ever since she was run out of the village—ever since Alexander had whispered conjurer to the men bundling sheaves and to the women combing wool. It followed her like a shadow. Like the rumor that had driven her away.

She spit into the duff. Alexander.

He had been her friend once. He had proposed marriage—more than once—but she’d refused him. She hadn’t explained why. That she wanted more from life than to be some villein’s broodmare, bound to a landlord’s field. But he’d figured it out quickly enough. And the affection in his eyes had soured into hate.

A branch snapped behind her.

Her hand flew to the dagger at her belt, cursing her wandering thoughts. The blade—long and old as the Norsemen who once landed on their shores—thrummed faintly at her touch. She had named it Bite. Like a cat’s teeth, it never needed sharpening.

The creature was growing bold now. No longer satisfied with lingering in shadows. Dana stopped, spun on her heel, cloak flaring around her legs like smoke. The old game trail was quiet, but she caught a flash of amber in the dying light.

“Out, then!” she shouted. “Show yourself and let us have it out! I have a shadow already—I’ve no need for a new one!”

Only a low owl-call answered her.

She sniffed the air. Nothing. With a wary glance over her shoulder, she continued on, knowing she had little choice but to press forward.

She had no idea where she was going—only that it had to be far. Far from the village where she’d come of age. Left as a babe on a peasant doorstep, wrapped in high-quality wool with Bite tucked in the bottom of the creel. The basket had been woven with river grasses that didn’t grow anywhere in the whole of the county.

The name conjurer would cling to her now, like stink to a pig’s hide.

She had always stood out—red-haired in a village of mud-colored pelts. Maybe in one of the larger cities, she could disappear. Though how she’d feed, clothe, or shelter herself was another matter. She had only the few coins she’d sewn into the lining of her cloak last autumn.

Ahead, the trees broke. A field of barley stretched out, golden in the last rays of sunlight. Dusk was coming on fast, the sky streaked with grey and rose.

If she could reach the crofter’s cottage unseen, she might sleep—rest her aching feet, leave behind the feeling of being shunned. Of being hunted.

She crossed into the barley. A low stone wall marked the property line between one landowner and the next. The stalks were still green, their plaited bead-heads brushing against her arms with long whiskers—like a lover’s caress.

Or what she imagined a lover’s caress might feel like, if she had ever let one touch her.

Alexander hadn’t been the only man in the village to stare too long. Her adopted mother had warned her early: men’s eyes meant danger. Especially when the milites came through, collecting taxes in coin or wool. Those were the ones to avoid.

“Any man touches you without invitation,” Old Mildred would bellow, “you wait until he sleeps and slice off his cock!”

Dana almost smiled at the memory. Mildred had found her as a babe and raised her without help—no husband, just goats and chickens and a wicked aim with a ladle. She had died not five months ago, and since then, Dana’s world had unraveled.

Over a hill and through a rye field she walked, ducking under a stile. The sky pinked. The first stars blinked into being.

There—at the bottom of the dale—stood the cottage. Framed on two sides by thick old elms.

She picked up her pace, letting the slope carry her downward. The feeling of being watched thickened. The urge to draw Bite was nearly overpowering.

Almost there.

She reached the door—and then stumbled over a root hidden beneath the tall grass. She landed hard, jarring her shoulder and bruising her hip.

Padded footsteps. A branch cracked.

Dana’s breath caught as she raised her eyes.

A large fox—with a pelt the same red as her own hair—darted behind one of the elms just as the sun dropped below the horizon, blinding her.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

When her vision cleared, the fox was gone—and a man stood in its place.

Scrambling upright, she drew Bite in one smooth motion, ignoring the pain in her shoulder. The blade gleamed, deadly and steady.

The man didn’t move. He was young—maybe a year or two older than her. With the sunset still glowing behind him, his hair looked golden, like the fox’s. But as the light faded, she saw it was brown. His chin was strong, his nose long and slightly crooked—enough to lend his face character. He was tall. Nearly as tall as the sheriff’s gelding back home.

“Hullo,” he said. His voice was light.

Dana said nothing. She flicked her wrist, making the blade glint. Let him see she knew how to use it.

“You’re the one the villagers call Dana,” he said, his tone low and pleasant.

But Dana knew pleasant tongues could hide sharp teeth.

“I’m the one they call witch,” she hissed, hoping to scare him off.

He didn’t retreat. He grinned.

She waited for him to step forward, to strike. Instead, he leaned against the elm with the air of someone who had all the time in the world.

“You’ve been following me,” she said at last. She kept Bite raised.

He shrugged. She bristled.

“You don’t deny it?”

Another shrug. “Following you is more an act of self-preservation than pursuit.”

Her fear was starting to turn. Not to trust—but to irritation.

The fox she had feared was a man. Or perhaps something in between. She had been confused, and confusion made her angry.

You are too intelligent, Mildred used to laugh. Stupid people are happier. Smart people are always vexed.

“You are Dana, then?” he asked.

“Do you plan to turn me in to the witch-slayers?”

His expression darkened. “I plan nothing of the kind.”

She studied him. His easy posture. The long fingers. The dark hair on his forearms. She didn’t lower her blade yet, but the edge of her panic dulled.

“Then I am Dana,” she said. A beat passed. She sheathed Bite.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he replied, clearly relieved.

“You now know my name,” she said. “Tell me yours.”

Now that the light had faded, she could see him more clearly. His eyes were kind. His clothing—a flaxen tunic dyed the color of winter leaves—was simple, well-made.

“I only know what they called me in the village,” he said, voice laced with something like longing.

“And what’s that?”

“Fox,” he said, sheepishly.

Gooseflesh bloomed along her arms.

“You have no memory?” she asked.

“I have knowledge,” he said carefully. “But no past that I can name.”

“You sound like me,” she murmured.

His gaze sharpened. “You have no past?”

“I have a story with no beginning,” she said. “And lately, I’m called only witch.”

“The villagers don’t know what a witch is,” he said. “You’re not what they think.”

“I’m not,” she agreed, lifting her chin.

“But a witch you are,” he said, stepping closer. “And I? I am your familiar.”

[pars-ley]

Title: I'm sorry, don't hate me

Pairing: Wooyoung (Ateez) x female reader

Summary: It's your last night in town and you are never coming back. You decide to make it count and spend it with the person you will miss the most, the only thing is…he doesn't know you're leaving.

Genre(s): Best friends to lovers / Idiots to lovers / Smut / Angst / Fluff 

Rating: Mature 18+ (NSFW) MDI

Warnings: oral (male and female receiving) / edging / begging / grinding / Dom reader / Dom wooyoung / swallowed cum shot / fingering / nipping / nipple play / clit play / multiple orgasms / unprotected sex (wrap before you tap) / cum shot / hand job / dirty talk /

Word count: 5.3k

Banner: Me

Moodboard: @anyamaris amazing as always

Beta: @heechwe Lexi, you are an angel, always. 

Author notes: My first Ateez fic! Thank you to @anyamaris for supporting me and cheering me on to write Wooyoung and thank you to @shadowkoo for the helpful advice and support! This is for the @k-vanity event ‘Eau de fleur’

Your footsteps echo as they climb the stairs to his apartment, the only sound you can hear filling the entire block, bouncing off the cold, tiled walls.

The nerves you expected to be running rampant inside you were nonexistent, instead a strange calmness flows through you at the thought of finally confronting your feelings for your best friend.

Perhaps it's because you've finally got tired of hiding, or maybe it's simply because tonight is your last chance.

Tomorrow you leave, to start a new job in a new city. A new life on the other side of the country. There's one drawback, however…you haven't told him yet. How could you? How can you say goodbye to your closest friend and the boy you've loved for years? You'd been putting it off and now the time to leave was almost upon you, and before you did, you had to take your chance with him, hoping that your feelings are reciprocated.

And as you stand at his door, hope blossoms inside you that maybe just for tonight, he can finally be yours.

Your fist raps on the door, harsher than you intended and you wait, craning forward to listen in as the silence stretches on. You'd seen his light on from outside, so you know he's home. You knock again.

This time you hear loud footsteps rushing your way. But when the door pulls open, you are in no way prepared for the sight that greets you.

“Oh, hi,” he smiles shyly, cheeks turning pink instantly, “did we have plans? Did I forget?”

Your eyes rake down the length of his wet half-naked body and you can't help but stare at the water as it drips off his hair. Your eyes stay fixed to the droplets as they make their way down his chest and roll over his well-defined abs, until they reach the towel, held tightly around his waist, clinging to his cock beautifully. Your gaze hovers over the outline as your teeth dig painfully into your bottom lip, desperate to run your tongue along the length of him.

He says your name and it snaps your attention back up to his face in an instant.

“Yea?” You reply, scrambling to remember your previous train of thought.

“Did-did we have plans tonight?” He asks again, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Oh-no, we didn't. I just wanted to drop by, so I thought I'd take a chance that you were home.”

His mouth pops open slightly, surprise evident by the way his eyebrows shoot up.

“Is that ok? Or are you busy?” You wonder, as you look behind him into his apartment, praying that he doesn’t have company.

“No, no, I'm not busy. Sorry, come in.” He opens the door for you to pass, and as he closes it behind you, your core alights with a need so powerful it startles you.

“Did you have anything in mind for tonight?” he asks behind you.

Your teeth find anchorage in your bottom lip again as your mind races through the possibilities, images of the two of you in various positions, that have plagued your mind the entire walk here.

You spin to face him, “Actually, yes.”

He watches you expectantly, and you can't help but admire his impressive frame while he still holds the towel tight around him. With a fire deep in your belly, the urge to feel his skin beneath yours grows too much to bear. You walk towards him, leaving no more than an inch between you and watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows.

He searches your eyes, flitting between them, with his full of unspoken questions.

Something in your peripherals catches your eye, looking down you see the obvious tent in his towel from his growing erection, your mouth pops open. When you meet his gaze again his cheeks are aflame and he's immediately stuttering an apology.

“I-I’m sorry, I-”

Reaching up, you stroke a fingertip lightly along his bottom lip, soft like a rose petal and it makes you shiver with anticipation. He grabs your wrist, gentle but firm, and holds your hand in place before you can withdraw. His pupils are blown wide with a heat staring back at you so ferocious it almost leaves you breathless.

“Please, don't do anything if you don't mean it.” He whispers, desperation seeping out of every word.

“I want you, Wooyoung. I have for a long time.”

You've barely finished the sentence before his lips capture yours in a passionate dance, exploring your mouth with precise movements that leave your knees weak. You hear the towel drop to the floor as both his hands cup your face, holding you so tenderly you want to stay in his embrace forever.

He breaks away first, breathing hard and eyes staring straight into yours. You let him in, allowing him to see all the emotions you've kept hidden and make yourself as vulnerable as you can.

“Are you sure?” He asks, forehead pressed against yours, “I don't want you to wake up tomorrow and regret it.”

Sadness pings in your chest. Tomorrow you would be leaving town without him, but as selfish as it is, you can't bring yourself to ruin this moment by telling him that yet.

“I could never regret being with you.” You respond, kissing him tenderly once again before slowly making a trail down his neck. The scent of his shower gel swirls around you, the woody note of amber and something else, something sweet that makes your mouth water. His damp skin sticks to your lips, and you can't help but run your tongue along to get a taste.

He takes a step back in surprise, bumping into the door, naked butt pressed against the wood and he whimpers. The sound has your core quivering with desire, needing to taste more of him, needing to hear more noises like that.

You drop to your knees, now face to face with his hard and very impressive erection. Your mouth watering at the sight, and you can't help but plunge yourself onto him, taking him as far as you can until your throat constricts around him.

He gasps and releases a loud, surprised moan as you curl your fingers around his length and begin to move them, matching the rhythm of your mouth. His hands comb into your hair, holding your head steady. When you look up at him, the sight makes your cunt clench. His face contorts with pleasure and his mouth hangs open as he watches your every move.

You place one hand on his thigh to steady yourself, and feel it tremble beneath your touch. The thought alone of how weak he is under you makes you impatient to feel him inside you, but you want to enjoy this, savour the moment and make it last.

You come off with a pop, before licking a stripe up the underside of his cock and watch it bounce as he hisses.

Grabbing him once more, you slowly bring him to your lips, staring up at him through your lashes, and circle his tip with your tongue. His hand slams back on the door, trying to grip onto the wooden panes, “oh, fuck.” He says through gritted teeth.

You spit on him, making him curse again under his breath, and use your hand to spread the lubrication down to the hilt before plunging yourself right back onto him.

When he hits the back of your throat you push him further, opening yourself up to him, the deep, guttural moan that escapes him has you clenching around nothing. When he's as far in as you can get him, you swallow, making yourself gag but worth it from the way his entire body jolts uncontrollably.

“Holy shit,” he cries out, fingers fisting in your hair again before gently pulling you off him and tilting your head back as he looks down at you.

“What's wrong?” You pout, attempting to lick the tip of him playfully and making him growl slightly. “Am I not making you feel good?”

“A little too good,” he smirks, “I've waited for this a long time, and I would like to be inside you longer than thirty seconds.”

This makes you laugh, as he takes your hands and helps you up off the ground, pulling you straight into his embrace.

“Besides,” he says, as leaves a trail of light kisses from the corner of your mouth, down to your cheek and along your jaw, “I think you're wearing too many clothes.”

He pushes your jacket off your shoulders until it hits the floor, joining his towel, and hooks a finger under your dress straps. His lips softly skate along your collarbone as he pulls them off your shoulders and tugs your dress down until that too pools around your feet.

He leans back to admire you, biting his lip at the sight of your matching red, lace underwear set you'd chosen for him, thinking of those afternoons spent in the field surrounded by red spider lilies.

“You're so fucking perfect.” He whispers, as he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you to him, slamming your lips onto his with a kiss that's full of ferocious hunger and years of pent up yearning.

Your feet start moving backwards with no idea to their destination but as long as he's touching you, you don't care where you end up.

His hands roam all over your body, his touch gentle yet desperate as you both move across his apartment. Your hands fist in his hair, pulling him even closer, needing to be completely wrapped around him.

Your foot catches on something and you stumble, Wooyoung grabs and spins you as you both drop to the ground, his body shields your fall and you both giggle.

“Are you ok?” you ask, composing yourself.

He nods, cupping the side of your face and stroking his thumb across your cheek, “better than ok.”

Unable to help yourself, you lean down to kiss him, feeling his fingertips skating lightly down your spine sending goosebumps cascading across your skin. He reaches your bra and undoes it in one swift movement, before yanking it off and throwing it across the room. Your nipples harden the moment the air hits them and you straighten up as he sits himself up to be face to face with your breasts. He sucks one of the firm buds into his mouth, the warmth of his lips and the way his tongue swirls expertly around them has your head collapsing back and releasing a moan so sinful it surprises you.

He moves over to the other breast, giving that one the same attention, making your toes curl when his teeth graze your delicate nub.

You grind your crotch against him, your clothed, aching cunt rubs perfectly against his cock and it makes him moan against your breasts, the vibration sending another thrill through you.

“Something tells me you're a very bad girl.” He whispers, grabbing your backside and aiding the movement of your hips.

The friction against your clit has the knot in your stomach pulling tight but it's not enough, you need him inside you.

“You have no idea.” You reply, pulling your underwear to the side and using your other hand to line him up to your entryway. He stills under you, fingers so tight on your rear they're bruising as you rub the tip of him against your slick.

“You want to be inside me?” You ask, hovering on your knees.

“You know I do.”

“Have you been good enough, Woo?” You ask, your tone dripping with sex. “Do you deserve it?”

He nods eagerly and you watch his chest move as his breathing fastens, his eyes transfixed on your dripping cunt, “yes…please.”

You bite your lip as you pretend to be mulling it over, “I'm not convinced you want me enough.”

He whimpers, hands squeezing the flesh of your hips and trying to ease you down onto him. “Please, I'll do anything, just please…fuck me.”

You reward him with a kiss, “good boy.” and sink down on him, enjoying the way he cries your name as you envelope him.

You give yourself a moment to adjust to his size, your pussy throbbing around him as he stretches you in the most delicious way. Both of you pant heavily as your lips meet in another passionate dance. When you start to move, circling your hips as you grind against him, his rock hard cock strokes against that sweet spot inside you making you cry out for more.

He matches your rhythm, thrusting up inside you while his lips explore your breasts. The pressure builds inside you, drawing you closer to the high you're chasing with desperate movements.

“You feel so good.” He whispers, eyes closed tight and teeth digging deep into his bottom lip. You pull it out with your thumb and suck it gently, making his eyes fly open.

“That's better,” you nod as you lick his plump pout.

His eyes don't move from your face as you rock your hips back and forward. “Yes, just like that, Woo.” You gasp, as the knot inside you pulls even tighter.

“Yea? You close, baby?” He asks breathlessly, veins in his neck bulging as he tries to hold back. Your movements grow sloppy as you near your climax but he continues to guide you through it.

“Yes, fuck…I'm gonna come.” You call out as the cord inside you finally snaps and you unravel around him. Your cunt contracts around him, pleasure making you see stars, as you cling to his back, keeping him as close as you can.

As the waves of ecstasy subside, your movements slow.

“I can't hold it much longer.” He gasps.

You pull off quickly and dive on him, sucking him into your mouth just as he too reaches his end, calling out your name as he releases rope upon rope of his orgasm inside you. Swallowing eagerly as he thrusts up into you, the noises coming from him are like nothing you could have imagined and when he's finished you collapse beside him. His arm winds around your waist as he tucks you into his side.

“That…”he says between pants, “was incredible.”

“I second that.” You add attempting to catch your breath.

“You…have no idea…how long…I've waited for that.” He says, looking both serious and hopeful.

“I think…I do. About as long…as I have.”

His mouth pulls into a huge grin, his perfect smile blinding you and rendering you speechless just like always. Until his fingers trail lightly along the skin of your stomach, leaving a burning path in their wake, a temporarily sated hunger rising from the depths again.

You turn on your side to face him, sliding a finger down his nose, “I hope you're not done yet.”

Arching a brow at the challenge in your tone, he responds, “Absolutely not,” He climbs above you, eyes darkening, “this time, it's your turn to beg me.”

Your stomach flips with anticipation as he grabs your thong and pulls it off, discarding it to the side. He pushes your legs apart, and positions himself on the floor between them. His lips graze your right knee, making a slow and deliberate pathway up your thigh, while his eyes stay fixed on yours and you dare not look away. His devilish sideways smirk makes him look like the predator with you the willing prey.

The silence of the room envelopes you, his teasing kisses the only sound and it smothers you, putting all your other senses on overdrive. The rapid pounding of your heart feels like it's vibrating through your entire being, as you wait for him to reach your core.

He licks the skin at the top of your thigh, making a trail right to your clit, flicking it with his tongue and making your body jolt.

He draws back, smirking, before licking a stripe from your entrance back up to your throbbing bud. Your hips thrust up on their own, desperate for more and he tuts.

“Ah, ah, behave and you'll get a reward but if you can't be good, you'll get punished. Do you understand?”

You nod eagerly, hands balled into fists at your side. Your body feels electric under him with excitement at seeing this complete other side to him you've never been privy to. And boy have you been missing out.

“I need words, baby.” He demands.

“Yes, I understand.” You reply, taking a breath to calm your impatience but the image of his face between your legs is almost too much.

“Good girl.” he purrs, spreading your lips open, so all of you is on display for him. He leans down slowly, eyes never wavering from yours and envelopes your clit with his lips. Sucking gently, he pulls the air right out of your lungs as you cry out. Pleasure shoots through you, lighting your nerves on fire and making your skin feel hot as you writhe under him.

You feel him circle your entrance with his fingertips, gathering your slick and spreading it before easing a finger inside you. Curling it upwards he touches that sensitive spot inside and beckons to it, over and over again. He releases your clit and instead, circles it with his tongue, driving you to the edge. Your fingers go into his hair, gripping it and pushing him harder against you. His teeth catch your swollen bud making you yelp but the thrill you feel in response surprises you.

“I told you that you would be punished if you can't be good, didn't I?” He says darkly, making your stomach quiver.

You nod quickly, “yes, I'm sorry.” You respond breathlessly, absolutely desperate to feel his mouth again.

“This is your last warning.”

“I'll be good, I promise.” You plead.

Seeming satisfied, his tongue returns to your clit and he slides a second finger into you, stretching you open and making your back arch. Your fingers grapple with the plush living room carpet in an attempt not to grab him again. But when he flutters his tongue against you can't help but thrust up against him. Ready for the fallout of your actions only to glance down at him when there are none. He continues his onslaught, caressing you with his mouth and tongue in a kiss so deep it chokes you. The cord in your stomach pulls tight as you feel your second orgasm approaching, toes curling and fingernails clinging to the floor but just as you're about to unravel he withdraws, leaving you gasping. Annoyed, you shoot your eyes to him only to be met with a cocky smirk.

“You weren't a good girl, baby,” he says, “only good girls get to come.”

You can't help but laugh. The excitement of him taking control like this has you wanting to know what lengths he would go to if you continued breaking the rules, but your impatience to climax has you eager to please him.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you look down at him innocently, “I'm sorry, Wooyo, I'll be good.”

The look of amusement in his eyes tells you he knows that's a lie but he gives in and closes his lips around your sex once again.

He picks up the pace of his simultaneous movements of tongue and fingers and faster than expected, and you feel your orgasm approaching again. Just as your toes start curling, he withdraws, coaxing a frustrated growl from you.

He chuckles darkly, flicking his tongue in your entryway.

“You want me to beg?” You whine, which only amuses him more.

“Yes, I do, actually,” he licks a slow deliberate stripe up your centre, making your back arch again and your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you attempt to hold in your moan. “Tell me how bad you want it, baby.”

Your desperation for him overrides your pride and you play on the innocence, eyebrows knitted in anguish and batting your lashes, “Please Wooyoung, please can you make me come, I need you so bad.”

His answering smile tells you it's worked but you don't miss the heat in his eyes blowing his pupils wide and giving away his impatience too.

His mouth finds you once again, no more teasing, just focused, calculated movements he knows will get you there. The figure of eight movements he does with his tongue as he thrusts his finger up into you, has you pummelling towards your goal. Toes curling, fingers in his hair unable to control yourself as you feel that pressure low in your belly building more than ever before. He looks up at you, a recognisable need in his stare, “Come for me.” He commands and you're surprised as your body obeys and unravels for him. Your needy cunt clenching around his digits as he continues to beckon the spot inside of you and it makes you want to scream.

“Good girl, that's it, baby.” He encourages, as he helps you ride out your orgasm as each wave of pleasure dies down and the pressure inside you lifts, leaving you feeling nothing but relief.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he crawls up your body to kiss you.

Tasting yourself on him, has that fire simmering inside you again and you wrap your legs around his waist as he hovers above you. You feel his erection in your entryway, and you use your feet to push against him and guide him in. He slides slowly into you, your pussy still throbbing from your climax as you adjust to his size.

When he bottoms out he pauses, leaning down to kiss you again before rocking his hips into you at a steady pace.

Your arousal coats him and the filthy sound of it fills the room.

“You feel so good, fuck.” He exclaims, looking down at you, “you're so beautiful, I'm so lucky.”

He strokes your cheek, the action bringing tears to your eyes but you rapidly blink them back before he notices.

Clinging to his back, wishing you could stay this way forever, your nails dig into his skin every time his cock hits that spot inside you.

He pauses and pulls out, leaving you whimpering for me, and chuckles as he stands, “sit up for me.” He says sweetly and pulls you up. “Bend over this.” He points to the arm of the sofa and you obey, leaning yourself across it.

You feel him at your entrance standing behind you as he lines himself up. He slides into you again and makes you moan, feeling him deeper inside you at this angle. His fingers come round the front of you, finding your clit instantly and massaging your arousal around your very sensitive bud.

His movements pick up speed as he desperately chases his own end.

“Do you think you can come again for me?” He asks pounding into you.

“Yes! Yes!” You respond, feeling your third orgasm approaching rapidly. His fingers on your clit moving so fast they're practically vibrating, as you grip onto one of the pillows and shove your face into it to contain your scream.

Your legs stiffen as the balloon of ecstasy expands inside you, growing with each moment, and just as the fullness gets too much, it pops. You come undone around him, your greedy cunt gripping him tightly with each spasm. His movements slow and his thrusts turn sloppy, until he suddenly pulls out of you and releases himself all over your back.

Collapsing against the sofa, your legs wobbly and unable to keep you upright, he rushes off telling you not to move, and when he returns he cleans you up with a warm washcloth.

At some point he has slipped back into his boxers and he pulls you up to stand, straight into his embrace.

“Stay the night?” He asks, almost seeming shy, a complete contrast to the man between your legs not thirty minutes ago.

Looking up at him and seeing the hope sparkling in his eyes, how could you refuse? And so you nod, letting him lead you into his bedroom where he covers you both with that blanket and pulls you to his side, arms wrapped around you and keeping you safe in his warm cocoon.

Your eyes close, even though you attempt to will them open, but to no avail. His fingers stroking your hair and his gentle kisses against your face soothe you and comfort you in a way you could never have expected. And all you think about is him and you slip into a dreamless sleep.

*

Where am I?

Your first thought as your eyes open and glance around the familiar room. Images from last night come hot and heavy in your mind, making your cheeks flush. Having crossed that boundary of your friendship, you feel strangely embarrassed, but when you glance over at him, still asleep next to you, all those worries melt away.

You sit up slowly and admire the way he smiles slightly in his sleep, reaching out you touch the indent on his cheek.

The bright morning light of the sunrise streams through the thin, cream curtains and when you check the time, you're surprised to see it's only five thirty. You'd awoken before you needed to but if you were planning on sneaking out it's better to go early, you had a very busy day and a long drive ahead of you.

Easing yourself out of the bed as quietly as you can, you head into the living room to collect your clothes, putting your underwear back on and pulling your dress on over the t-shirt of his you'd worn to sleep in. If you were honest, you wanted to keep it, to have something of his to remind you of this night.

Grabbing your jacket, you fish the sealed envelope out of your pocket and head back into the bedroom. Placing it on his bedside table, looking at his name you'd written so elegantly, it would not soften the blow of the words inside however. Remembering some of the lines you wrote your chest constricts so tight it hurts to breathe, as you think about that last line; I'm sorry, don't hate me.

You risk one last glance at him, so perfect as he lay there. Your throat swells and tears brim in your eyes, threatening to overflow.

The thought of staying crosses your mind, which you knew it would, but you take that as your cue to leave and quietly exit his apartment.

Salty trails run down your cheeks as you make your way down the stairs, heartbreak threatening to consume you.

Why did this choice have to be so hard?

You finally have the opportunity you've wanted for so long, you can start your dream job and have a fresh start in a new place, the only thing that would keep you here lies asleep in the bed you just left.

Leaving the apartment building to face the walk home, you welcome it; time alone to deal with your decisions and the impending fallout you can feel in your gut is coming.

Swiping hard at your tear stained cheeks, feeling frustrated and angry at yourself, your name echoing across the silent morning and stops you in your tracks. Every part of your body is frozen, as you wait to hear it again or if it's simply your imagination playing tricks on you.

Sure enough, it sounds again. Recognising Wooyoung's voice, your stomach plummets as you slowly turn towards the sound.

Swallowing at the sight of him shirtless and barefoot in just some grey sweatpants storming towards you, your feet feel glued to the spot. Apparently your fallout is happening sooner rather than later.

“What the fuck is this?” He asks, lifting your letter in his hands as he stops in front of you. “Are you kidding me, right now?”

His furrowed brow and furious eyes make you feel ashamed, as he stares at you, waiting for an answer. But when you open your mouth to speak, any words you have die in your throat. What can you even say?

“So what, last night meant…nothing to you?” He says, voice breaking at the end and that cuts you deep, knowing you're behind any kind of pain he feels.

“Last night meant everything to me, Wooyo.”

“How, if you're still leaving?” He swipes a hand through his hair, looking everywhere but at you. “You couldn't even tell me to my face, I get this…” he shoves it towards you and glares, his eyes sparkle with emotion he's barely holding in. “I thought we were friends. Best friends.” He pauses, staring at you, vulnerability written all across his face. “I-I love you.”

Your breath hitches in your chest as the world around you seems to stop moving.

You had always hoped he returned your feelings and in some moments felt sure he did but you never knew. You'd waited for this moment for so long, now it was here…

“Do I really mean that little to you?” the hurt that pulls his brows together makes you feel nauseous.

How could he ever think that?

You step towards him, reaching out to grab his arm, needing to feel close to him again and hating the distance between you, both physically and emotionally. “It's because you mean the most to me.” You admit. He doesn't retreat when you step towards him again, bodies almost touching as you look up at him. “I knew if we had this conversation, face to face, I wouldn't want to go anymore.” You reach up and cup his cheek, “don't you get it? You're the only person I would stay here for…”

His eyes soften as he searches yours, lips parted calling you to him but you resist.

“...but this is my dream job. I need to do this, can you understand that?”

He nods, sniffing and trying to compose his emotions. “I wish you'd have told me sooner.”

“I know and I'm so sorry sorry. I'm a coward.” you admit sheepishly.

“Not because of that, but I got offered a job in the same city you're moving to.”

Your heart hammers wildly in your chest, the prospect of being with him not one you had considered up till now. “What?”

“I turned it down, though.”

That crushes your hopes instantly, your heart deflating as he speaks.

“But I could contact them to see if they're still looking for someone.”

This rollercoaster of emotions is almost too much to bear, as your heart soars once more. “Really? You would move there?”

He slides a hand around your waist and pulls you against him, “To be with you, I would move anywhere.”

“Wooyo, I can't ask you to do that.”

“You're not, I'm offering.” he reaches up and tenderly strokes your cheek with his thumb, “I've only just got you, I can't lose you.”

Leaning on your tiptoes you press a soft kiss against his lips, which he eagerly reciprocates.

A heat starts low down inside you, simmering faintly and reminding you of the events last night. He pulls away but keeps you pressed firmly against him, “I'm going to go shower and change and then let me come with you to your new place and help you set up?”

Your chest tightens with a swell of emotion you are not prepared for but you welcome it. “You do realise it's a three hour drive?”

“I don't care, I just want to be with you.”

Burying yourself against his bare chest you agree. He lifts you gently and gives you a kiss full of love and promise.

“You know, I need to shower too and it would really save time to do it at yours,” You start, “besides, saving the planet and all…we should do our best to conserve water.”

His eyes darken and he smirks as he turns, carrying you back to his apartment, giggling as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Then we must do our best to help save the planet, baby.” he says, peppering kisses down your neck with a firm grip on your behind.

Your plans might have changed but the possibilities with him by your side are now endless.

[theabbystabby]

You know how people get seasonal depression? I'm getting, like, reverse seasonal depression. I'm depressed because I live in Minnesota and there's no snow. There hasn't BEEN snow. Just rain, fog, and dead leaves.

Christmas is my favorite time of the year. I love everything about it. And the snow ties it all together with a neat bow. Yeah, sure. It's a pain in the butt when we get A TON of it, and when ice comes into play. But we live up north. It just comes with the territory. It's not only beautiful, but it's something we need environmentally. It's super unsettling that we've only been dusted with snow twice and it didn't stay for more than two days.

It's made it really hard to enjoy the things I love most about December. Lights and decorations don't dazzle me as much, the brown views are so hard on the eyes, hyper awareness of the state of our environment weighs heavy on me, and it's just... Soul crushing. This year has been awful for me for a lot of reasons, and this feels like salt in the wound.

It's going to be a sad, dreary Christmas. And I don't know what to do.

[magiefish]

THEY DID THE METACRISIS AGAIN.

AND THIS TIME HE'S NOT EVEN SAFELY CONTAINED IN HIS OWN UNIVERSE!

AND THEY MADE THE FIRST BLACK DOCTOR PLAY SECOND FIDDLE TO A WHITE ONE AND

OH MY GOD TAKE THAT BOYS TARDIS AWAY FROM HIM GODDAMIT I WANT TO WATCH HIM

DIE

[specsthesecond]

Being a waitress/bottle girl at a club that caters to monsters.

While serving a table of orcs their drinks you hear whistling from behind you and turn towards the table of werewolves calling you over,

"C'mere Doll, why don't you spend some time with us? It'd be better than looking at those ugly green faces."

The rest of the table barks out laughter and all you do is look back at the table of orcs to gauge their reactions, just incase you have to call the bouncer to stop another brawl.

"Aw yeah? Cus your slobbering snout's much more attractive, ain't it?"

One orc yells and the others hurl their chosen insults across the table as well. The werewolves grumble and snarl insults back and you just stand in the middle of this, trying to think of an escape.

"Maybe she ain't at your table for a reason!"

One of the orcs claims boldly and all the other orcs voice their agreement while the wolves clearly disagree.

"Why don't we let the lady decide." A wolf with greying fur suggests with a smirk and both tables seem to agree on this being just a wonderful idea.

"Well love? Who's better then? Us or the mutts?"

"Aye! The real question is who can treat her better, isn't that right, Doll?"

The attention of the two tables are now on you, waiting for your answer with baited breaths and half hard cocks probably.

"....I prefer minotaurs."

This deadpan response takes a few seconds to sink in before a chorus of disagreements and further arguing commences, but you're already making your way back towards the bar, you're sure they don't mind watching your tiny skirt bounce as you walk away.

That answer wasn't random, it's actually been the only thing you could think of all day. Your Minotaur coworkers cock reaching deep into your stomach while he pounds you into next week. That might be why so many customers have been extra forward with you today, maybe they can smell the need on you.

You finally make it back to the bar, getting ready to end your shift and finally get some relief.

"You causing trouble?"

You whip around to meet just the monster you were so desperate to see. He stands at the edge of the bar in his bouncer uniform, his sleeves hug his biceps very nicely and you nearly purr imagining what that arm would feel like around your throat, while he pounds you from behind. He gazes down at you with a knowing look.

"Me? Oh, I would never."

You look up at him and play with the collar of your shirt, successfully drawing his eyes to the generous amount of cleavage your uniform provides.

He huffs in amusement.

"They don't seem to think so."

He tilts his head and massive horns towards the two tables you just left where the occupants are all peering over one another to see the interaction between you and the bovine beast in front of you.

You scoff, take his arm and turn him around so that he's only focusing on you.

"I'm off. You're off in 15...maybe you could come by my place again....or something?"

You nervously bite your lip and he doesn't know why you're getting nervous.

You weren't nervous when you sent him that video of your stuffed cunt clenching around the Minotaur themed dildo you've had since before you were seeing eachother. You definitely weren't nervous when you sent him another video 6 hours ago of you stuffing said dildo into your perfect pussy in the employee bathrooms before slipping your tiny panties on over it, keeping the silicone deep in your cunt.

He pulls out his keys and leans down closer to you,

"Be ready when I get to the car."

You nearly squeal in excitement as you grab the keys and reach up to kiss his cheek. As you skip out the door to his car he looks back at the two tables just to revel a little in the disappointed grumbles and huffs emitting from the two groups as they go back to their drinks.

𓄀

[asxgard]

I wanted something where Abbott gets involved with a younger resident — maybe everyone in the ER knows about it, except the interns, since it’s their first day. Maybe the resident doesn’t like Trinity’s style, and Trinity goes to complain to Jack, but Jack defends his resident.

In Your Defense | one shot

Dr. Jack Abbot x f!resident!reader

Requested

Summary: After getting on your nerves all day, you and Santos finally go toe-to-toe over a patient. Jack comes to your defense.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: I’ve been floating around ideas of my own of Jack with a resident👀so this was fun!

Sorry it took a bit! I got distracted with a few other things, and I wanted to make sure Companionship got out yesterday. Plus, this became a lot longer than I originally intended. I hope you like it @mayabbot !

Word Count: 2.7k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content.

Warnings: age gap, semi-established relationship, foul language, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, mild Santos hate due difference in style, Pittfest

not beta read

The thing about Dr. Jack Abbot was, you did not need a label to know what you meant to him. There was no officiality of a title, even though you were both serious about each other — but frankly, the title was just a word. You knew where you stood, spending nights in his apartment and cooking breakfast together. He never hesitated to remind you that you belonged to him. Not in the overly possessive way, but in the silent always there type of way.

Jack had a past, and while you never pushed, he opened slowly. He had held you out of reach for some time before you realized what was truly brewing between you, and after he began to share, you thought the slow, quiet way you existed around each other was enough. He had loved and lost, he had fought and sacrificed, so you always assured him there was no rush. Not with you. You supposed there would be something to be said when you finished your residency, since that was a big priority in your life, but that was still a year away.

Like most things, your relationship with Jack did not stay secret for long in the halls of the Pitt. You really should have known better — Princess and Perlah were bloodhounds when it came to sniffing out things like that, and the bet did little to keep it private. You were unsure who had started it, but you were surprised that it was Robby who had walked away with the money. It felt like cheating, since he had insider knowledge after catching the two of you at a bar, but you never said anything.

Waking up in his bed alone was not uncommon — since after your dayshifts you sometimes would just wander to his apartment as opposed to your own. You would curl into his sheets and his smell, even when he would not be home all night. He never minded, and frankly even encouraged it. Working opposite shifts than him cut back on time you had together, but you knew it was only a matter of time before you were back on nights due to your flip-flopping schedule.

He looked worn down when you arrived at the Pitt for your shift, bright-eyed from a full night's rest in his bed. He followed you into the staff lounge so you could put your lunch away and he poured a bit of coffee to top off your thermos.

“Is it a ‘good morning’ type of morning, or a quiet ‘let me contemplate’ type of morning?”

He pursed his lips, “Neither. I lost a vet last night, spent two hours coding him.”

You sucked in a breath, knowing it had been a rough one for him. Those nights were far and few between, but never handled them very well. He was getting better, but oftentimes, he found himself on the roof.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” You said, knowing there was not much to say that would actually make it feel any better. “I made dinner last night, I left some leftovers in your fridge.”

He nodded, “At least we’ll have tonight and tomorrow together.”

You smiled, “I’m looking forward to it. Meet at yours?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

You chuckled, “Go get some rest, old man.”

An eyebrow rose in a challenge, “You won’t be saying that later.”

You smirked, “Counting on it.”

He gave you a rushed kiss on the lips, ensuring it was quick and private, before he was out the door. You sipped on your coffee and let out a long sigh, moving towards the charge desk and greeting Dana with a grin.

You let out a low whistle when you looked up at the board, “Damn, they got hammered last night.”

Frank Langdon stepped beside you to lean against the desk, “Why do I have a feeling you’re going to say the Q word? Don’t you dare, or I swear to god.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “It was one time over a year ago. Who do I look like? Shen? I’m no longer an amatuer.”

“I’m so glad I don’t work with him much. He’s like a walking jinx at this point.”

“He’s not so bad.” You laughed, “I see we got some newbies.”

Langdon glanced over his shoulder, “Two med students, an intern and an R2.”

“Oh, fun.”

—

You learned all the new faces over the course of the next hour. You found you liked the med students well enough, and the R2, Melissa King, but the intern was beginning to rub you the wrong way. Calloused and indifferent did not mesh well in the chaos of the Pitt, or the team player attitude Robby always tried to instill in everyone.

Santos was the type of person you had vehemently disliked during your med student rotations, and after hearing a few cruel nicknames she had picked for Whitaker and Javadi, you brought it to Langdon’s attention. According to Jack, Langdon had walked into the Pitt with the same type of overconfident attitude, and Robby had taken him under his wing and straightened him out. Maybe you thought he would pass on the wisdom. Not to mention, it took the drama off your plate. You had enough worries keeping your relationship with Jack away from Gloria’s ears, and the last thing you wanted to do was get in the middle of something.

“Trust me, I hear you. She already ordered something without clearing it with me first.”

Your nose scrunched in annoyance, “We don’t need someone like that down here.”

“Maybe you could let her shadow you…” he said, a smile growing as your annoyance did. “Show her the ropes. You know, that whole no-nonsense but still empathetic thing you’ve got going on might be right up her alley. You’d be a wonderful teacher.”

You deadpanned, “You owe me. Like super, major—”

“You’re the best!”

You wished you had gone to Collins instead.

Try as you did, the brashness of Santos did not quell under your careful hand and you grew more frustrated with her poor bedside manner and knack for doing things before clearing them. Just when you stepped away to use the restroom, she ordered BPAP for one of your patients and nearly killed him. Yelling was not in your wheelhouse, nor was letting something like this get the better of you, but as the shift ticked on, your fuse grew shorter. Screaming would be the worst teaching tool, but she seemed to railroad over any and all of your advice.

You passed her off to Mohan to take an hour seeing your own patients without Santos’ shadow. At the end of the hour, Mohan only gave you a knowing glance before getting back to it. By the time you went to complain to Langdon, he had disappeared. Just a bit after that, Robby sent Collins home.

Taking a deep breath, you pep-talked yourself into holding it in until the end of your shift. Then you could pass the news on to Robby and go home to forget about it.

—

When the mass casualty event was called, you fiddled with your hands, rubbing anxious circles on one of your palms. The shift had beat you up and left you out to dry, and you knew you were not likely to get out on time. Anxiety thrummed through your system, or perhaps it was the anticipation

Jack’s face was a welcomed one and you wanted to thank whoever you could that he had showed up when he did, a mess of supplies from his truck. With both Robby and Jack at the head of this, you knew the team would get through it. One patient at a time.

Robby placed you in the pink zone, with instructions to float over to yellow if they needed help. Jack found you in the supply closet trying to grab what you could to prepare for the influx in your zone, and he seemed to read you like your shift had been written on your face.

The braindead boy who no one could help. The drowned little girl no one could have saved. Dana being punched by an angry patient, which set your teeth on edge. The anguished screams of grieving family members. Your frustration with the cocky intern. Langdon abandoning you. Collins going home early. The anticipation of all the blood and loss that was sure to be waiting for you as soon as the first cars arrived with the Pittfest victims.

He squeezed your hand, “Find me if you need anything. I got you.”

There it was, that silent, all-knowing ‘always here’ anchor you had needed given in just a few simple words and a giant gesture. You smiled at him and squeezed his back, exhausted and relieved all at once.

You kicked it into gear, getting to work in your zone. Trying to ignore the tragedy around you and just focus on the medicine was easier said than done, especially getting more and more covered in blood as the shift dragged on. It truly was a blur, except for the fact that each patient was clear as day in your head.

Intubating, assessing, applying pressure to wounds, checking on the status of the operating rooms for your more critical patients, forwarding a few to red. Rinse. Repeat. A never ending cycle of carnage.

Mel whizzed past you and you looked back down at your patient, checking his pulse points. He was as stable as he was going to get, and you waved McKay over to him so you could run by yellow zone to see if they needed anything.

Whitaker’s wide eyes greeted you, “She’s doing a REBOA.”

You stopped dead, “What? Who?”

His eyes looked over to Santos, who was leaning over a patient. All the blood rushed from your head, anger and fear tangling together.

Mel was beside you then, tapping her fingers together in an anxious fashion, “I told her—I tried—“

You swallowed before rushing forward. She had already inserted the balloon, and there was not much you could do. You had only done one before, during a mass pile up over a year before, but it was under Jack’s careful supervision.

“Are you insane?” You hissed low, trying not to cause a scene.

Santos only glanced at you, “Patient was bleeding out, need to—“

“No, no, no, no.” Something snapped and all the frustration you had been feeling all day came barreling out of you. “What you need to do, Dr. Santos, is clear shit like this with your senior resident. With an attending. Literally anyone else. Mel already told you no and what do you do? This is how people die. Doctors feeding their own fucking egos and not letting themselves be checked.”

She simply stared at you, “It’s already—“

“No, this was rash.” You glanced down at the patient, seeing that the balloon was likely already in place, but from Donnie’s grim features, the patient was not doing much better. “If it worked? Amazing, great. You saved a patient. But if you keep doing this shit, someone is going to die. You’re not as infallible as you seem to think you are.”

You felt him before you saw him, a once calming presence now beside you and it made all your hairs stand on end. Like you had been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

At the hospital, he was your attending, you were the resident and you definitely should not have lost your cool like that in the middle of the shitstorm that was already occurring. You physically braced yourself, steeling your composure and trying not to wince. Jack did not scold in public, but you had made a scene.

Jack’s attention had been pulled away from his patient at a particular voice carrying through the air, growing louder as it continued. Your voice. Unmistakable and in the chaos, completely unnerving. It was not like you to shout, or yell, especially in the mess the Pitt had found itself in. He was walking towards your voice without even thinking about it, gait rushed but not running.

“She performed a REBOA.” Mel told Jack as he approached, eyeing each of you warily. “I told her not to.” She gestured to you. “She told her not to.”

You felt Jack’s eyes on your face, and you glanced over to him. He took in your features and looked back to Santos.

“A REBOA? Are you shitting me?”

“Dr. Abbot, I couldn’t get any of the attendings and the patient was bleeding out. No other options.” Santos told him, looking at you again. “I don’t think her yelling about it, or at me right now is exactly—“

“She is a resident and you are an intern. You never should have done that on your own, ever.”

You blinked, half surprised, half thankful. You never wanted your relationship with him to bleed into the professional act you two played whenever you were in the hospital. You never wanted him to play favorites or defend you when you didn’t deserve it. But a part of you relished in him supporting you. Especially after dealing with her going over your head your entire shift.

Two nightshift nurses — Alma and Riley — and Donnie exchanged knowing glances, hiding their smirks well, while Santos just stood there. Jack looked back to you and raised an eyebrow, asking if you were okay without any words.

You gave him the tiniest of nods, likely not to be seen as anything more than a twitch, but Jack caught it easily. You were okay, for the most part anyway. You could talk to him about all of it later. You hoped this could all be behind you soon, as mild embarrassment for yelling in the ED crept up your cheeks. You would pass along the information to Robby and let him handle it. He would be likely to scold you for losing your cool and yelling like he had earlier with Langdon, who was now back floating through zones with little explanation as to why he had left.

Santos looked between you two like she was trying to read you.

Jack had his focus back on the patient, asking Donnie for her vitals.

“Carotid’s weak. Radial’s barely there.” Donnie said.

“Another three cc’s in the balloon.” Jack advised and Santos followed the instruction.

Whitaker looked up, “Radial’s much stronger now.”

“Lock the balloon. Check the wound.”

“Wound’s dry, barely a trickle.”

“That’s because there’s no blood going to her legs.” Mel whispered from beside you.

“Get IR and Vascular on the case.”

The patient began coming to, opening her eyes and looking around her tiredly. There was a relief in the sight, but the fact that this would only make Santos more bold in the future made you worry.

Jack leaned in close to Santos, “That was reckless and could have killed the patient. You need to follow the chain of command here.”

Santos gave a tense nod, her tiny smile disappearing.

You stepped away when Jack did, finding a few moments when you pulled off your gown to replace it with a fresh one. He stepped behind you to tie it while you reached for new gloves.

“It’s been a shift.” You explained simply, not even needing him to open his mouth. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

“We can talk about it later.”

You turned to face him, “No, if you’re going to scold me, I’d rather you do it now. Get it out of the way.”

He studied your face. “Can’t change anything now. She did save the patient, but she could've just as easily made it worse. And you lost it for a minute. You know as well as anyone that yelling achieves nothing.”

You cringed, remembering your med school days.

“But you weren’t wrong.” He added, grabbing your arm and forcing you to look at him. “She took an unnecessary risk and hopefully next time, will try to find an attending, or a resident. I’ll mention it to Robby, maybe he can help her get back on track. The Pitt doesn’t need any more egos, I think we’re at capacity.”

A small smirk broke through on your lips, “Thank you.”

“You feel good enough to get back to it?” He raised a careful eyebrow.

You took a breath and nodded. You parted without ceremony, heading back to your respective zones and got lost in the work.

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Did my own feelings about Santos bleed into this? …maybe. She grew on me, but oh my god she really was getting on my last nerve for most of this season. I hope season 2 comes with some growth from her.

[gothgoblinbabe]

Love Game

[Logan Howlett x fem!reader]

Warnings: MDNI/18+ use of she/her, female reader, swearing, being referred to as a girl, mention of being a stress eater, mild alcohol consumption and mention of alcoholism kinda, jealous!Logan, mild violence, you’re shorter than Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it up), little bit of spitting, sub!logan x kinda dom!reader, voyeurism? Technically?, use of pet names, I believe that’s it but pls lmk if I missed any! ps. you wear a dress in this but if that don't work for you, imagine its a sick ass tux/ fancy attire you're comfy in

Also non cannon compliant because I know Logan is heavy as shit and his body weight would crush you but just for a minute you’re gonna pretend like it wouldn’t

Summary: essentially [this ask] with plot ! // Scott needs to mind his god damn business, but he might’ve done you a favor by snatching your diary and waving it in Logan's face.

Word Count: 8K

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“That fucking kid.”

You groaned, lifting your mattress and checking underneath and round your bed. You knew Scott was going to snatch your diary the moment you’d realized he overheard you tell Ororo where you kept it.  He was always busting your balls the same way he did Logans, even insisting it was a ‘two for one’ deal when he got to bother you at the same time. 

Well, he was really gonna regret messing with you this time.

“Summers! I’m going to wring your goddamn neck! Where is it?”

Your voice boomed through the open halls of the mansion as you barreled down the stairs, feet moving faster than your thoughts. Everything echoed in this place; if he was here, you know he heard you.

“Scott!”

You continued to call his name, stomping around until you locked eyes with him as you entered the kitchen. In his hands - to your abject horror - was your diary, spread open while Logan peeked over his shoulder. 

Truthfully, Scott was a little scared shitless of the consequences of what he’d done. He’d dealt with Logan back and forth, sure, but you? Terrifying. You had just about the same strength as Logan and about five times his rage. That’s why his eyes grew wide when he saw you, snapping the little book shut. 

You could feel your face burning. A diary was private within itself, but there were some things you’d written that were never supposed to be read by another soul; Scott and Logan’s included.

“Fucker,” you grumbled, reaching forward to grab the book from Scott’s hands until Logan snatched it, holding it above your head. 

“Ah, not so fast,” he teased.

You’d gotten into plenty of squabbles with Scott, but he was absolutely going to pay for this. He knew the way you felt about Logan and you swore he got some sick satisfaction out of trying to humiliate you. He only found out because he’d overheard you confiding in Jean late one night in the living room with a pint of ice cream in your hands, yapping while you shoveled Ben and Jerrys into your mouth.

Your eyes flickered between his face and Logan’s. If looks could kill, Scott would have dropped dead the second you walked into the kitchen. 

“Now what is this,” Logan asked with a lilt in his voice as his eyes scanned a page, “a whole paragraph for little ol’ me?”

Shit. 

“I’ll give it back, I promise, but I gotta read this.”

If you tried, you could maybe snatch the thing from his grip before he read too much. You considered jumping on him, piggybacking until he dropped it or handed it over. What lengths would you be willing to go through to keep it a secret anyway? Was it really even a big deal?

You had a crush. Everybody does at some point. A stupid, harmless crush and if this was how he was going to find out, so be it. 

You were still absolutely planning on tearing Scott from limb to limb, though.

“Huh,” Logan clicked his tongue, beginning to read from the pages, “No one knows how to piss me off like Logan.”

You sighed, dropping your head into your hands.

“True,” he commented, “and he spends a ridiculous amount of time in the bathroom to do his hair.”

“Also true,” Scott chimed in, becoming the subject of your seething gaze. 

“He’d save so much time if he just let me do it for him - like it would be hard to comb it into two cat ears,” he read, looking up to speak to you, “first of all, I told you they’re not cat ears.”

You simply nodded and rolled your eyes.

“Second of all, you couldn’t master ‘em anyway - I’d have to fix it myself.”

You just scoffed, leaning yourself back against the kitchen counter in an attempt to act nonchalant while you tapped one foot uncontrollably. Everything he’d read so far seemed to be the mundane stuff, nothing incriminating just yet. 

“God, how I wanna…play with his hair,” he read, eyebrow quirked in confusion.

Ah, there it is.

“That’s, uh - it’s really old, I didn’t mean, like - it’s from years ago,” you tried to blabber out an excuse.

“It’s dated - it’s from a couple months ago.”

You pursed your lips, nearly biting through the flesh at the same time from the pressure. You had to get that book out of his hands.

“He’s so stubborn,” Logan continued to read with a smug grin, holding the book high when you jumped to grab it, “I wish someone would just put him in his place.”

“Ooh,” Scott chuckled, looking to you, “are you gonna be the one to do it?”

“Fuck you, Summers - I’m so gonna get you back for this,” you snarled.

“I don’t think it would take too much for him to keep his mouth shut” Logan started to read again.

You instantly recognized the part he was reading and gasped, frantically reaching again for the book. 

“No, no, no, Logan, please - you don’t wanna read th-“

“I’d love to be the one to do it. I wanna take him and -”

He stopped reading and his eyes scanned the rest of the page, his amused smile faltering. You knew exactly what it was he’d read and you wanted to bury yourself alive. You remembered scrawling it down, snickering to yourself as you dragged the gel pen across the paper.

I wanna take him and tie him to my bedpost, probably shove my panties in his mouth and fuck him senseless.That would really shut him up.

Out of all the pages in that goddamn book, that’s the one he had to open up to?

You watched intently as his eyes flashed from yours to the page and then back again.

“What does it say?” Scott questioned, trying to lean over to get a look.

Instead of letting him read it, he snapped it shut and held it out towards you, his face expressionless. Was he mad? Grossed out?

“Don’t worry about it. We shouldn’t be readin’ her private stuff anyway.”

“Uh…,” you hesitated, fingers softly grazing his when you took it back, “thanks.”

You turned on your heel immediately and hastily made your way back to your room. You hoped to hide out there the rest of the day, praying maybe Logan would forget what he’d read or just let it be. You knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t.

You knew him so well because you were like mirrors of each other; smart mouthed and hot headed. You realized that the first couple months with the X-men, always butting heads with him until one mission where you had to grab the back of his jacket in an attempt to keep him where he was. You tugged with so much force that you nearly knocked him on his ass. Even Hank had never been bold enough to do that, not when Logan was as riled up as could be. From that point on, it was kind of an unspoken assumption that you would always be the one who calmed him down or held him back. So, you did just that; grabbing his wrist with both hands to force him to keep his claws to himself or pushing back against him when he tried to lunge at Scott for something stupid - though, after what he just pulled, you may just let Logan rip him apart next time. Though it was never acknowledged between the two of you, you were his anchor. You held him down when he began to drift away. Fortunately for you, he did the same - using minimal effort to keep you in place when you tried to go for someone’s face or going as far as to hike you over his shoulder and carry you away from the confrontation, all while you kicked and screamed to be let down. 

You avoided him the best you could for two days after the incident in the kitchen, quick comments in passing but never staying long enough for a full conversation out of fear that he’d bring up what he read. What were you supposed to say, anyway? ‘Sorry I thought about fucking you?’

You’d have to think of something because you were face to face in training a few days later. Scott stood to the side of you both, a stopwatch in his hand. 

“Alright, when I say go, whoever pins the other down for more than five seconds wins. Remember, you're each trying to beat your time from the last session.”

Scott’s voice almost sounded underwater. Your eyes were locked with Logan’s and though you wanted to rip your gaze away, you couldn’t.

“Ready? And…go!”

He backed out of the way and you tried to lunge at Logan, quickly being flipped onto your back.

“Okay, ow,” you whispered to yourself, immediately standing back up.

He tried to grab you when you stood but you caught his hand, twisting his arm behind his back to force him to the ground. You straddled his back and kept your weight on him but he was too quick, turning over and pushing you off him.

“Don’t get too excited, now,” he panted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You were caught off by the low cadence of his voice, inadvertently letting your guard down and giving him an opportunity to pin your arms above your head and keep your legs down with the weight of his knee. Scott began to count down and you racked your brain for a way to get yourself out from underneath him. 

You were able to pull one of your legs free, sending him a little off balance and using your leg on the side of his torso to roll him over on his back again. You straddled his waist, using your hands and your forearms to hold his down. That, however, left you nose to nose while panting for air. 

“What, you thought I’d let you win?” You asked, tongue poking at the corner of your open mouth. It was usual for you to tease each other with little snide comments. Nothing any different from the usual, right?

“Nah, I just really like havin’ you on top.”

Nope, definitely different. 

You didn’t even hear Scott call time on your match at first. 

“Hey! Lovebirds! I said you can get off each other. Jesus,” he groaned. You finally remembered where you were and quickly scrambled off of Logan. 

“Aw, really? It was just gettin’ good,” he chuckled. You could feel his eyes on you as you gathered your belongings with your back turned. You tried to step out into the hallway, praying he wouldn’t catch you before you met the elevator doors - of course, you weren’t that lucky.

“Hey, hey - princess, wait up,” you heard him call after you and you stopped, turning on your heel with an irritated expression.

“About the other day, the thing you wrote - “

You sighed, rubbing your face in distress and cutting him off before he could finish.

“Listen, Logan,” you quickly looked around the corridor to make sure you were alone, “I know what you read, I don’t wanna talk about it. It - look, it was some stupid phase where I had a crush and it’s over, okay?”

He tilted his head. You hoped he would simply nod and move on, but you watched his lips curl into a smile instead.

“Aw, what happened - you changed your mind?”

You knew him well enough to understand the look on his face. He was never gonna let this go - in fact, he was probably going to nearly torture you over it. 

“Shut up,” you huffed and continued to walk away, keeping your stare straight ahead.

“Aw, pretty girl -“

You dropped your belongings to the floor with an audible thud and gathered the front of Logan’s t-shirt in your fists, tugging him down to your height so you were face to face. 

“First of all, I told you not to call me that - ‘princess’, ’pretty girl’ - like I’m one of your little girlfriends. Okay, kitty cat?” you scolded through gritted teeth. He hated being called that and you knew it.

His eyebrows were raised and his lips parted in surprise.

“And second of all,” you continued with a deep breath, “you read it, it’s done - leave it be, would you? It doesn’t mean anything.”

You still had his shirt in your tight grip.

“Alright, alright - I’m just teasing,” he admitted, trying to pry your fingers from his t-shirt, “and I’m sorry, I never should’ve been reading it in the first place.” 

You sighed and finally let him go.

“Fine, I forgive you. And you can’t ever tell anyone what you read. Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“So, we’re cool again? Nothings weird?”

“Not unless you make it weird.”

“You were the one flirting with me.”

“Uh - was not. I was simply creating a distraction to throw you off guard and it worked.”

“I’ll get you back.”

“Sure, you will.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You and Logan were in forced proximity hours later, standing with Scott, Jean and Ororo in Charles’ office.

“Do we really have to go?” Logan groaned, hanging his head back in frustration.

You were staring at the thick paper invite atop Charles’ desk. All your names were scrawled in cursive, surrounded by small gold detailing with the event written on top. It was some kind of Gala, something for charity that you couldn’t quite make out from where you were standing.

“It would be a wonderful opportunity to represent the school, yourselves and the mutant population as a whole,” Charles answered.

“You really think wolvie and his little hothead wrangler are gonna be well behaved enough to not make a scene?” Scott gestured towards you both.

Logan stepped towards him and you instinctively grabbed the sleeve of his jacket to hold him back. He looked back at you, clearly annoyed.

“We’ll be fine,” you insisted while glaring daggers in Scott’s direction.

You didn’t notice that you were still holding the sleeve of Logan’s jacket when Charles dismissed you. You let go and cleared your throat as you followed him out of the room.

“There's no way in hell I'm wearing a suit,” he grumbled, looking down at his flannel and jeans.

“You don’t wanna play dress up?” You teased.

“And look like a stuck up prick? No.”

“I'm kind of excited to wear something nice for once,” you admitted, “I’ve got a couple nice dresses I’ve never even worn. Besides, maybe there’s gonna be a couple of hot, rich guys there.”

You were looking straight ahead as you walked side by side down the hall, smiling to yourself. If you had turned your head, you would have seen the way Logan rolled his eyes. 

“What, you’re gonna go home with some rich schmuck just ‘cause he’s got money?”

He sounded almost annoyed. You furrowed your eyebrows and shrugged. 

“I don’t know, if he’s good looking, maybe.”

That was only a little truthful. You were not the type of person who was comfortable enough to go back to a stranger's place or hook up with someone you’d never see again. But maybe you could, if it would keep your mind off Logan and convince him to forget about what he’d read a few days ago. And if the guy did have money? It certainly wouldn’t be a problem for you.

“Oh,” Ororo piped up from behind you, stretching out the vowel, “I see - you’re going shopping. Gotta try before you buy, huh?”

She playfully poked your side and you chuckled, swatting her hand away.

“Call it what you want,” you responded, “but I’m gonna have fun, at the very least.”

You would end up having fun - just in a much different way than you expected.

You decided on getting ready for the night in Ororo’s room when the time came a few weeks later. She was touching up her makeup at her vanity while you changed behind the bathroom door. 

“Does it fit?” She asked through the wood with her eyes still on her reflection.

You were attempting to zip the back of your dress with your arm stretched uncomfortably over your shoulder.

“In a way? Kind of.”

Jean entered the room just then, having already gotten ready in her and Scott’s room.

“She’s trying on a dress that’s been in her closet since last year that still had tags,” Ororo explained to her as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Can one of you zip me up, though?” you sighed in defeat and opened the door, “I can’t get it.”

“Woah, mama!” Ororo comically wolf whistled and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

The dress was your favorite out of your collection of unworn clothing; it showed the perfect amount of skin and hugged your figure phenomenally. To top it off, the color complemented your skin in the best way possible.

“I don’t look silly? I feel a little funny getting all dolled up,” you confessed, turning around so Jean could pull your zipper up the rest of the way.

“Definitely not silly,” Jean reassured you but mumbled under her breath after, “Logan’s gonna lose it.”

You turned back around to quirk an eyebrow at her.

“Who cares what he thinks? Did I say I care what he thinks? ‘Cause I don’t. Like, at all.”

“Honey,” Ororo began, “we already know you like him, remember?”

You groaned and bent down to look into the mirror on her vanity.

“I don’t - not anymore, at least.”

“Yeah, right,” Jean giggled, “keep telling yourself that.”

Ororo looked at the time on her watch and hastily stood to slip on her shoes, “We’re gonna be late if we don’t leave soon. Logan and Scott are supposed to meet us downstairs.”

You stepped into your shoes and grabbed the little bag you’d carry for the night, following her and Jean out the door. When you finally got to the staircase, you could see Scott and Logan talking to each other at the bottom, the latter of the two standing with his back facing the stairs. 

“All right, ready!” Jean enthusiastically announced. If she hadn’t said anything, the simultaneous clicking of your shoes would’ve announced your presence for you.

Logan turned around to face you. At that moment, he wondered why he ever complained about going in the first place. His eyes were glued to you as you came down the stairs and you could feel yourself start to get warmer. 

He looked so good in a tux, Jesus Christ. You liked when he wore those tight fitting tanks and jeans, sure, but something about the formal attire really did it for you. His cologne wafting into your space when you stood next to him didn’t do much to help dispel any feelings you had, either. How badly you wanted to just forget the stupid event, tug him into your bedroom upstairs and show him that you were so not kidding about what you’d scribbled in your diary. Alas, that was certainly not going to happen.

‘Just an old crush,’ you internally tried to remind yourself, ‘just an old crush - that’s it. I’m not into him anymore.’

Except that you knew damn well it was a lie. 

“We’re gonna be late if we stand here any longer, c’mon,” Scott began walking with Jean while you, Logan and Ororo followed.

“You look nice,” Logan finally spoke as you made it to the door, “think you’ll bag any of those rich guys?”

You almost asked what he was talking about, too lost in thinking about how you actually wanted to bag him and not some stranger.

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully, “but if I do, you’ll be the last to find out.”

“Oh, really? Why’s that?”

“Because I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Got that right.”

You eventually found yourself in a large, decorated open room, sat in the corner with Logan while he nursed a glass of whiskey and you anxiously scarfed down appetizers. The rest of the team had walked off to mingle - like normal people do.

“Kid, you’re gonna choke if you keep eatin’ that fast,” he warned you.

“ ‘m a stress eater,” you explained with a mouthful of fancy cheese, “besides, you’re a stress drinker. Thank god there’s so many tiny foods.”

He scoffed and took a sip of his drink. 

“What are you even stressed about, anyway? Half your job tonight is to just stand there and look pretty and you’ve already got that down.”

“Thank you, I think?” your eyes nervously scanned the room, “I just hate being in a crowded place, especially one this big that’s full of complete strangers.”

“Why do you think I’m holdin’ a glass right now?” 

Your eyes flickered between his and the half full glass in his hand. You wordlessly took it from his fingers before he even had time to react and downed the contents in one gulp.

“Well, that’s one way to calm your nerves,” he commented, “but if you keep drinkin’ like that, you’re gonna be face first on the ground before the nights even started.”

You were still holding a grimace from the burn of the alcohol but shook your head and cleared your throat, “I just needed the kick in the ass - I’m good.”

“So, you’re gonna go socialize? Good luck,” he raised his eyebrows, “something tells me these people aren’t really who we want to be hanging out with.”

“Why, because they have an immense amount of cash to burn and we don’t? You can’t hate people just because they have money, Logan.”

“Then how am I doin’ it right now?”

You rolled your eyes.

“I think there’s gotta be a few genuinely good people out there who just happen to be rich.”

“Uh-huh, and I think two plus two is five - it doesn’t make me right.”

“You know what? I’m going to prove you wrong,” you said smugly, standing up from the table. 

“I think you’ll prove me right.”

“You wanna bet?”

“It’s a deal.”

“What are we betting, exactly?”

“How ‘bout this - if either of us can find someone here we actually want to go home with, you win. If we don’t, I win.”

“Fine,” you narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms, “what does the winner get?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “we can figure it out later.”

With that, you both dispersed. You were still feeling uncomfortable but that wasn’t going to go away unless you did something about it. Do you just go up and talk to someone? What do you say?

“Excuse me,” a voice said from behind you and you turned around, only to be face to face with a cute guy in a tux.

“Oh, so they come up to you,” you thought immediately.

“Uh, I don’t mean to be forward with you, but you look very beautiful,” he said politely, a charming smile on his face, “I saw you when you walked in and wanted to say something, I just wasn’t sure if you came with someone.”

You took a second to respond, still processing the fact that he even came up to you. 

“Oh, thanks,” you finally replied, “you’re not too bad yourself.”

You tried to use humor to dispel the awkwardness - the type of awkwardness you feel when you get asked to go to a school dance in the seventh grade - but this guy was cute. If you just got to know him a bit, the mild discomfort would probably pass.

“I didn’t come here with anyone, by the way,” you added, “Well, I mean, I did but not in that way - I’m with friends.”

“That’s good to know,” he said, grinning, “in that case, would you wanna dance with me?”

You hadn’t even asked each other your names, and you didn’t really care. 

You nodded and let him take your hand, “I have to warn you, though - I’m no dancer.”

“Well, do I look like one? ‘Cause I’m certainly not, either. But when there’s a beautiful woman in the room that you really wanna talk to, you’ve got to think of a reason to go up and talk to her.”

“I don’t know - I think you just might be a bit of a smooth talker.”

He was and it was definitely working. He clicked his tongue and waved his hand dismissively.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t make me blush.”

He was funny, too. All you had to do was find out a little more about him - for the sake of the bet, yes, but also to determine the probability of breaking his bed frame later if it all went well.

So, you let him rest his arms around your waist and you put your hands on his shoulders. It was kind of nice to have someone so close. You started to feel mildly uncomfortable, though, as if someone was staring at you. You ignored it anyway, deciding it was just the anxiety of being in a place with a lot of people.

Really, it was Logan standing across the room with his stare glued to you two. He looked like he wanted to bore a hole into the poor guy's skull. When you finally caught sight of him, he turned and seemingly disappeared.

You spent a bit of time with your new date, intending to subtilely interrogate him to find out if he fit the criteria for your bet with Logan. Even if he didn’t? You might let him take you home anyway.

You sat with him at an abandoned table, leaning your head on your hand as you half - listened to him talk about stocks. You glanced around the room and spotted Logan again almost immediately. 

He was leaning against the wall with a girl hanging from his arm. She was talking away and he looked completely disinterested. The whole point of coming was to distract yourself from anything to do with him and there you were, ignoring your date to silently seethe at a girl who was only in his vicinity.

You tried to zone back in on the conversation and really pay attention when he started to talk about his job. It was some tech company you’d heard of, a big name in the industry.

“Oh, so, what do you do there?” 

“Well, I own it.”

You squinted and sat up straight.

“You own the company.”

It was more of a statement than a question.

He nodded and you raised your eyebrows. This was going much better than you anticipated. You couldn’t help but glance over at Logan to see that girl still standing with him.  She was twirling a strand of her long hair around her finger. She was undeniably pretty, so you wondered why he wasn’t even looking at her while she hung all over him.

“Hey, would you wanna dance with me again? I know it’s a little slow paced, but I love this song.”

You returned your attention to the man in front of you and smiled as politely as possible.

“You know what? Sure, why not.”

You let him lead you into the middle of the room and rest his hands on your hips. He pulled you much closer than you’d been standing before, so much so that you were nearly stepping on his shoes. His hands slid down further and you laughed a little to yourself. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? So you wondered why it didn’t feel like something you wanted at all.

You caught Ororo’s gaze from across the room and she smiled, flashing you a thumbs up. When you caught Logan’s gaze, he was anything but smiling. There was a reason you felt like all this was something you didn’t want - you knew you wished it was him you were standing with. Still, you weren’t sure of why he wouldn’t tear his eyes from you or why he had such a scowl on his face. 

You stopped staring back when your date planted a kiss on your forehead.

“What was that for?”

“Well, I kinda wanted to kiss you but I figured maybe goin’ right for the lips might have been too much.”

“We don’t even know each other's names.”

“Do we have to?”

You thought hard for a moment, wondering if Logan was still watching. It wasn’t fair to kiss someone just to try to make another person jealous, you knew that. He didn’t even have a reason to be jealous.

“You can kiss me.”

He was an alright kisser - nothing exciting. His lips were soft, though, and you liked the smell of his cologne. Before you could deepen the kiss any further, he was tugged backwards and off of you.

Logan had the back of the poor guy's jacket in his fists, nearly yanking him down to the floor with how much force he used.

“Alright, bub,” he grunted, “I think that's enough, she’s leavin’.”

You glared daggers at him with your lips parted in surprise.

“I can leave when I want to,” you said through gritted teeth, “what the hell is your problem?”

“Is he your boyfriend?” your date asked, nervously looking between you both.

“He’s n-” you began to answer and Logan cut you off as he grabbed your arm.

“Yeah. Get lost.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows in anger but could feel your face becoming warm. You weren’t totally sure if you were turning pink from how enraged you were with Logan or from the words that just came out of his mouth.

“Outside. Now,” you demanded, tugging your arm from his grip.

You turned to walk away and he followed as you grumbled to him, holding your dress up a bit so you wouldn’t trip as you stomped out.

‘What the fuck was that?”

He didn’t answer, simply following at your heels with his eyes on the marble floor of the corridor. You swung open the door and stepped into the cool summer evening air, waiting until the door shut behind you to speak again.

“What, you didn’t want me to win the bet?” you guessed with raised eyebrows.

“You’re really gonna let some guy you don’t know shove his tongue in your mouth?”

You stood in stunned silence for a moment.

“Are you kidding? How is that any of your business?”

He scoffed and shook his head.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna let some asshole be all over you just ‘cause he's got money.”

“What?” you furrowed your eyebrows, “why do you care?”

“Why don’t you? Seriously, you’d just go home with some guy and fuck him?”

“I don’t - I don’t know,” you stuttered, “maybe, but that was part of that stupid bet! Not that it’s any of your concern!”

You were nearly shouting at each other.

He clicked his tongue and spoke in a sour tone, “none of my concern, sure. I didn’t think you’d actually try and go home with someone -”

“Okay, you know what?” you threw your hands up in frustration, “I don’t know what the hell your problem is or why you’re acting like some jealous boyfriend, but fucking cut it out!”

You were both finally quiet for a moment. The sound of cicadas and crickets songs filled the silence. Logan’s face was pleading, his features highlighted by the soft golden yellow light seeping through the building’s windows.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” he mumbled under his breath, his arms crossed over his chest.

You raised your eyebrows, “get what?”

You sounded exasperated, sick of playing what felt like the worst game of twenty questions ever.

Logan brought a hand to his face, scratching at his facial hair - something you recognized as a nervous habit.

“That stupid fuckin’ notebook, the little one you write in,” he groaned, “I just wish I never read it.”

“So, you’re mad about that?” You asked, clearly still confused as to what he was trying to say, “listen, I’m sorry, it wasn’t -“

“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying,” he interrupted, “it’s - fuck, I don’t know. I don’t know, It's like I read that damn thing and lost my mind.”

You waited for him to elaborate, a puzzled expression still plastered on your face.

“It’s all I can think about, all the time - it's like I close my eyes and I can still see it written down in your chicken scratch. I don’t even know what to do, It’s so stupid,” he huffed.

You still didn’t understand what he was trying to tell you or whether he was talking to you or himself.

“And then - I don’t know, alright - you look so…” he groaned with his face in his hands, “I like you - is that enough? Ya’ get it? I liked you for awhile and then Scott had to go peekin’ through shit that wasn’t his and reading that shit you wrote just made it even worse for me. I’m supposed to read that you wanna ‘fuck me senseless’ and just let it go? You thought that wasn’t gonna do something to me?”

You were slack jawed, feeling like your legs were going to give out from under you.

He seemed angry, his nostrils flaring while he held a frown.

“So…you -“ 

His hands cupped your face and he leaned down close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your skin.

“So, I want you to fuck me like you said you wanted to.”

Your eyes grew so wide that you feared they might pop out of your head. 

“Would you, if I asked?” He continued in a low voice.

Your stomach erupted in butterflies and you nodded without hesitation. Conversations like this with Logan had only ever happened in your dreams.

His lips finally connecting with yours made your head spin. If he wasn’t tenderly holding your face, you might’ve just let yourself fall to the ground.

“I’ve been thinking about you for months, you know,” he admitted when he pulled away, “watchin’ when you walk away, thinking about how you say my name, wishing I could just tell ya’ - I didn’t have the nerve. Seein’ you with another guy, though - I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought I could and I just can't.”

You almost expected to hear the beeping of your alarm clock that would startle you awake in your bedroom. Still, it never came. You could feel his hot breath on your face, the breeze on your skin, the warmth of his hands; it was all too real.

“You mean it? All of it?”

You didn’t know why your voice sounded so desperate, almost pleading with him not to toy with you.

“ ‘course I do. Of course, I mean - god, look at you.”

His mouth was on yours again and you smiled against his lips, your cheeks tinted pink.

“Hey, wait,” you pulled away momentarily, “why did you agree to that bet in the first place, then?”

He gnawed on his bottom lip anxiously.

“I kinda figured you wouldn’t be able to find someone good enough, I don’t know - maybe I could convince you to come back with me instead.”

“That was your plan?” you let out a small laugh, smiling so wide that your face began to ache.

“Well, It might’ve worked if you hadn’t met what’s-his-face in there.”

“I don’t know his name,” you shrugged, “didn’t care to ask.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“I let him kiss me because I wanted to make you jealous,” you admitted, “I still like you.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

His expression was as smug as could be.

“That you still like me? Yeah.”

“How? Am I that obvious?”

“It’s not your fault,” he shrugged and lowered his voice to a whisper as he put his lips to your ear, “I could smell how wet you’ve been all night.”

You swallowed hard and shivered when his hand slid up your back.

“And it worked, by the way - I’m jealous.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded and leaned his forehead against yours.

“Well,” you affectionately scratched at the hair at the back of his head, “are you gonna do something about it, then?” 

He kissed you with much more fever than before and you caught his lower lip between your teeth, making him groan into your mouth. His hands were in your hair to push you even further into him to the point he was practically hunched over your body. When you finally took a second to catch your breath, you had a realization.

“I won the bet.”

He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Please tell me you don’t mean you’re actually still gonna go home with that guy.”

“No,” you rolled your eyes and let out an amused scoff, “I meant you, Logan.”

“Me,” he repeated with a beaming smile, “you’re coming home with me.”

You nodded and giggled, absentmindedly fixing the hair hanging in front of his forehead. 

He was staring into your eyes in a way that had you feeling as though there was nothing else around you - no fancy party inside, no responsibility to socialize - just you and Logan in the cool light of the moon. He was studying your face like he’d never see it again if he turned away.

“What if I couldn’t wait till we got home?” He asked quietly. His warm breath just barely grazed your lips.

Your eyes widened and you thought for a moment, looking between him and the door beside you.

“C’mere,” you instructed simply, taking him by his hand and leading him inside to walk down the main hallway. You scanned the area and once you were sure no one would see either of you, you began trying knobs of different doors to see if one would open. When one finally gave, you slipped inside with Logan in toe and flicked on the lights. It was a small dusty office, one that probably hadn’t been used in a few months at the very least.

Neither of you wasted any time in taking advantage of your newfound isolation. Logan was kissing you like he was starving to taste you, working his way down your neck with an open mouth to leave darkening spots slick with his saliva.

“Logan,” you sighed, eyes fluttering closed momentarily from the way he was nipping and sucking at your skin.

“I love when you say my name,” he admitted, mumbling into your neck. His hands were everywhere - tangled in your hair, resting on your waist, your hips, your ass - he was desperate to keep his hands on you now that he had you. 

You disconnected your lips for a moment so you could hop back to sit up on the top of the desk behind you. You hiked the skirt of your dress above your knees to avoid ripping it and motioned for him to stand between your knees as you held the middle of the skirt down with one hand.

“I’ve got an idea for my reward for winning the bet,” you smiled mischievously, leaning up to hold his chin and force him to look you in the eye, “what do you say, pretty boy? You wanna be part of it?”

He nodded eagerly and the pace of his breathing increased significantly.

“Good,” you leaned back on one hand, using the other to tug at Logan’s suit jacket, “off.”

He obeyed without hesitation and shrugged the garment off his shoulders. He began to untuck his shirt and you stopped him with a gentle touch.

“Did I say to take that off too, sweetheart? I don’t think I did,” you spoke softly in a firm tone.

“No - no, ma’am.”

It drove you crazy to have him under your thumb in that way, his usual domineering nature and dominance melting away by the second. 

“So do as you're told, baby,” you instructed, “if you’re good for me, maybe I’ll reward you back.”

You could see him swallow hard, eyelids nearly fluttering closed when he thought of all the possibilities of what that might entail. 

“F- mhm, fuck,” he stuttered when you brought a hand to the front of his pants and barely grazed the spot below the button with your fingertips. He began to twitch more and more with every touch.

“Are you gonna say yes?” your voice was near taunting, “or do I have to try a little more convincing?”

You popped the button on the front of his pants with ease and slid your hand underneath to feel him over the soft fabric of his underwear.

“Yeah, yes, I - ah, yeah,” he moaned in response, rocking his hips towards your hand and resting his forehead on your shoulder.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smiled and gently kissed his temple.There was something so lovably vulnerable about the way he was acting with you. You knew he’d never let another soul find out that he loved what you did to him - dreaming of you whispering affectionate nicknames and praise as he sloppily pounded into you or spending hours on his sore knees just so he could feel you cum on his face - but the intensity of his devotion bordered otherworldly. 

“Do me a favor, baby,” you started, lifting your hips for a second to drag your panties down your legs, “take out your pretty cock for me.”

He obeyed, tugging his pants down his thighs just enough for his already hard dick to spring up out of the confines of his briefs. You inadvertently licked your lips at the sight, thinking of how heavenly he’d feel in you. He was huge, but for a guy who’s six foot two, it wasn’t a surprise.

He stood expectantly between your legs with his hands on your thighs. You leaned back on both hands, cocking your head to the side as you spoke.

“Touch yourself first and maybe I’ll let you touch me.”

The ‘maybe’ was a bluff. He knew as well as you did that you’d let him touch you regardless.

“Gimme your hand,” you ordered before he could even wrap his fingers around himself. You leaned your mouth over the palm of his hand and spat.

He groaned from the gesture alone, knees nearly buckling when he finally brought his hand down to coat his cock in your saliva.

“Feels good?” You cooed, eyes flickering from his face to his leaking cock in his fist.

“Mm - mhm, yeah, ‘s good,” he panted, “really fucking good.”

You failed an attempt to hide your wide smile, hypnotized by the repeated motion of his hand. He looked so pretty like this - his jaw hung open, chest heaving while his face became more flushed with every passing second. You could feel the rush of heat in your lower stomach just from watching him.

You couldn’t help yourself from leaning forward a little and unbuttoning his shirt from the top down, all while he watched you intently, his breathing becoming heavier the closer your hand came to his.

“Think of you all the time when I do this at home,” he panted, “you’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

The compliment made your heart swell; it was a sweet remark that so greatly contrasted the obscene speed of his hand as he stroked himself. 

“You’re such a pretty boy,” you whispered and planted a kiss on his pink cheek, “you look amazing.”

You caught the way the motion of his hand slowed and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching forward and wrapping your fingers around his cock. He growled, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Don’t work yourself up so soon, kitty cat, or you’re gonna be finished before I even get to fuck you,” you murmured into his ear and he gasped as you started to pump him.

“Don’t - ah - don’t call me that,” he whimpered.

“Aw, you don’t like it, my pretty kitty?”

He growled again, even more animalistically , but his hips jerking into your hand told you he really didn’t hate that nickname as much as he told you he did.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” you continued to tease, “I know you like it - you love bein’ my big, pretty kitty.”

He groaned, lifting his head from your shoulder and crashing his lips into yours. 

“Sh-shut up,” he managed to grunt.

You immediately withdrew your hand and sat back again.

He whimpered from the loss of contact and looked at you with pleading eyes, silently asking why you stopped.

“I said you had to be good for me, didn’t I?” you asked.

He nodded, eyes traveling from your thighs, up your body and then back down again. 

“Good boys don’t talk back,” you said simply, raising your eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, I’ll - I’m good, I’ll behave, just please -“

His speech was cut short when you hiked your dress up even further to expose your bare, wet pussy.

“Fucking Christ,” he moaned.

You tugged the top of your dress down to expose your chest and he had to grip the desk you were sitting on so his legs wouldn’t give out from under him. 

“If you can be real quiet,” you pushed some fallen hair out of his face, “I’ll let you cum in me. You want that?”

“Please, ‘v been thinking of that for fucking weeks,” he begged, “please, please, baby.”

He tentatively cupped one of your breasts and you rested your hand atop his, encouraging him to squeeze and knead however he pleased. You spurred him on to the point that he couldn’t resist leaning down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking while his fingers toyed with the other one.

You couldn’t help whining from the sensation of his mouth on you while you combed your fingers through his hair.

He finally detached himself after ravishing your chest in wet kisses and left a string of saliva connecting his tongue to your nipple. You giggled a little to yourself and crashed your lips into his again in a heated mess of tongues and teeth. You scooted your hips up on the table and used your grip on his cock to graze his tip up against you, making him shudder.

“You’re so - fuck, you’re such a fuckin’ tease,” he gasped and held your hips in an iron grip.

“What’d I say about back talk?” you moved the head of his cock further away from you.

He groaned in frustration, moving his hands to hold your face, “Honey, I’m already beggin’ -  please, I need you.”

The desperation in his voice made you even wetter.

“I guess you’ve been pretty good for me - do you think you deserve it?” 

He nodded eagerly and placed his hand over yours that was around him. You let him nudge your hand away to align himself with your entrance. His eyes bore into yours as he finally began to push himself into you, rocking his hips slowly to help you adjust to his size. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he wrapped his around your waist. When he fully sheathed himself inside of you, he let out a loud moan that echoed through the small space.

“I told you to be quiet, sweetheart,” you whispered into his ear.

“Uh-huh, ‘s a lil’ hard when I’m fuckin’ a girl I’ve been dreamin’  about for months,” he mumbled, working up a steady pace while you wrapped your legs around him and locked your ankles at the small of his back to help push him further into you.

“You feel so good, Logan,” you moaned, kissing down his jaw and throat.

He groaned at full volume again.

“Are you gonna stay quiet? or do I have to shut you up? Hm?” you grinned and he made an even louder noise. You reached behind you to find your panties and folded them into a ball, holding his jaw with your other hand.

“Open.”

He obeyed immediately, rolling his eyes into the back of his head when you stuffed them into his open mouth.

“Good kitty.”

He let out a muffled growl and the speed of his hips increased.

“Yeah,” you panted, “I know you like that.”

The angle at which he was fucking you made it so that he was hitting the sensitive spot inside of you over and over again, making you gasp each time. Sweat was forming on his neck and down both your chests, practically sticking your skin together in the hot, stuffy room.

“You’re - you’re so pretty,” you told him truthfully, admiring the rosey tint of his face and the drool that was starting to run down from the corner of his mouth. His eyelids fluttered closed and he started to thrust into you hard enough to shake the desk you were sitting on. 

“Easy, kitty cat - you’re gonna break somethin’,” you muttered into the hot skin of his neck with a smug smile on your face.

His pace didn’t falter in the slightest, his hands gripping your ass to push you towards him every time he slammed his hips forward. The fabric of your panties muffled the guttural moan he choked on when you lightly sunk your teeth into his shoulder. He slid his hand between your bodies to bring his thumb to your clit, working tight circles around the bundle of nerves in rhythm with the thrust of his hips.

“Fuck, fuck, I-“ you were speechless, at a loss for words from the brutal combination of the pressure he applied with his fingers and the way he repeatedly hit that spot inside of you. His eyes were squeezed shut and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, still whining and growling like an animal into the fabric of your underwear. You felt the heat in your lower stomach start to build and you buried your face in his shoulder, your mascara smudged under your eyes.

“Logan, Logan, I’m - ah - ‘m gonna come,” you warned, tugging on the back of his hair.

He groaned and yanked the fabric out of his mouth, immediately bringing his lips to yours so he could tenderly make out with you while the squelching sound of your dripping cunt filled the room. 

“C’mon,” he growled into your mouth, “c’mon, baby, please.”

Both your chins were slick with each other's saliva from the frantic way you’d smashed your lips together. Your whining and pleading became louder with every roll of his hips until the sensation sent you over the edge, euphoria blossoming from your lower stomach and spreading all throughout your body.

“Oh my god, Logan,” you nearly yelled, your hands slipping under his open shirt to scratch down his back, “s-so good. I love you.”

The three words slipped out without hesitation and your eyes widened, mild humiliation replacing the fading feeling of your orgasm.

His hips rutted against yours when you spoke and he leaned his face down so he was nose to nose with you.

“Love you so much.”

He kissed you softly with both his hands on your cheeks, so filled with affection that you could’ve cried. He slid his hands down back to your hips and kept his forehead against yours as he continued to drill into you.

“I don’t - I don’t ever wanna see ya’ with anybody else,” he panted, “I needed ya’ so bad. You - ah - ya’ drive me crazy.”

Even after having already came, his pussy-drunk rambling still spawned butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

“You’ll never see me with someone else, baby - promise. ‘s always been you. Only ever really wanted you,” you admitted with a soft voice.

His thrusts became sloppy and you could tell that spurring him on with your words would make him finish just as quickly as you did.

“I’m yours, always have been,” you whispered in his ear, “you’re the only one I’ve ever thought about fucking me like this.”

He choked out a sob into your shoulder and came with an animalistic growl, looking down to watch the mess being made all over your inner thighs.

“Love you so fucking much,” he repeated with a sigh, slowly stopping the thrust of his hips and resting his head against yours again.

“I love you, too,” you replied and planted a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Sorry I made such a mess of ya’,” he apologized, spreading your thighs as he pulled out, “I’ll clean ya’ up when we’re home, I swear.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you chuckled, readjusting your dress and slipping your underwear back on while Logan tucked himself back into his pants and buttoned his shirt.

You caught a glimpse of the watch on his wrist as he moved and grabbed his hand so you could see the time.

“Shit! We were supposed to meet everyone back out front ten minutes ago,” you realized aloud, slipping yourself off the desk and pulling your dress down.

He mirrored your haste and let you fix his hair, doing the same for you and wiping away the mascara under your eyes.

“Okay, okay, c’mon,” you insisted, opening the door and slipping out hand in hand. You scurried down the abandoned corridor and all the way to the front exit. When Logan pushed open the door, you were met with Jean, Scott, and Ororo standing with worried expressions.

“What happened to you guys?” Scott asked before Jean nudged him in the arm, pointing towards your intertwined hands.

You looked towards where she was pointing and back up again, “Oh, uh…”

You tried to think of an excuse and looked to Logan beside you for help. 

“Nothin’,” he said in a nonchalant manner, “just got lost around the place - lot’s of rooms in there.”

Ororo raised her eyebrows suspiciously. 

“Sure, and, uh - Is that why you’re holding hands?”

You laughed a little, tugging his hand behind your back.

“Well,” you started, “remember I said I’d try to bag a guy tonight? Um-”

“I’ve been bagged,” Logan interrupted with a huge, smug grin.

“I wasn’t gonna put it like that,” you insisted, “but - yeah.”

“Finally,” Jean huffed and rolled her eyes, “I thought we’d have to have an intervention.”

“Huh?” Logan narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, c’mon,” Ororo laughed, “we all knew you liked each other, even before you did.” 

“And you never said anything?” Logan asked.

“Neither of you ever believed us!”

“True,” you agreed with a shrug and giggle. 

“I believe you now,” he stated, still holding your hand as you all made your way into the night, “She might like me. Just a little bit.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

A/N: Thank you so much if you read till the end :) !! I did get stuck with some writers block in the middle of this and I'm not completely fulfilled w it but if I kept working on it it may take another week and my brain can't do it

Still working on requests rn so if you sent one in, I haven't forgotten about you!!! I'm trying to do two at a time so I can keep up (I won't burn myself out dw I usually do nothing all day till I work in the afternoon) <3

[usedpidemo]

Savior (aespa Karina)

“Someone help me. Please!”

“Scream as loud as you can, no one’s coming to save you, princess.”

“That’s right. So just be a good girl and give us your money.”

“Help!”

It’s at this point where, against your better judgment, you stop dead in your tracks. The damsel in distress’s right behind you, backed into a corner by two bullies. Her possessions are strewn all over the floor, purposefully kicked out of her reach. There hasn’t been much physical harm done to the girl, but she looks to be the delicate type—someone who’s bound to crumble and break after a few hits.

Looking over your shoulder, the two students spot you and turn their attention against you immediately, recognizing you as a threat. “Hey,” says the first student, stepping forward to intimidate you with his burly physique. “This has nothing to do with you. Run along if you don’t want to join this loser over here.”

“Yeah. Don’t go around acting tough just cause you got two other guys with you. Just keep it pushing,” says the second thug, lankier in figure, in agreement with his partner.

Standing your ground, you steel your resolve, having no intention to run. In fact, it’s the complete opposite: you’re down for a fight. Your two companions also follow suit.

“So you wanna be a hero? You’re gonna regret it,” the first bully says, cracking his fists, ready to swing. “Oh, you’re so gonna regret it!”

That is to say, he’s the one who’s about to regret his life choices.

Like a raging bull, the thug lunges toward you, only for you to swiftly kick his legs from underneath, sending him flying across the hallway before he violently lands head first on the ground, most certainly giving him a concussion. He’s done.

The second bully tries to throw a follow-up punch, but you stop its momentum with one hand. Twisting it sideways, the bones crack loud, immediately followed by a screech of pain from his lungs. He drops to the floor in agony, holding his bent knuckle with his healthy arm.

“Oh—oh God—oh fuck—fuck—” Tears flowing from his eyes, he grovels in extreme discomfort, unable to stand before you. “What are you—”

“Now run,” you order, and he promptly complies, hopping off the ground, then fleeing in the opposite direction.

All that’s left is the girl. She had been watching the entire time. She’s overjoyed.

“Y-you saved me,” she says, tone relieved and her spirits held high. “How can I thank you—”

“Don’t push it,” you tell her, already walking away with your companions, waving her off. You don’t help her as she gathers her belongings. “Don’t get yourself in danger next time.”

Part of you already has second thoughts saving this girl. Jimin, the name written on her ID, is undeniably pretty, but you have nothing to gain from this encounter—or from her. She’s only studying in this university on a scholarship, and it shows in her appearance: she’s not the cleanest, nor is as well dressed as everyone else on campus. At best, you’ll probably get called into the office regarding this incident, as well as getting another target placed on your back by those bullies.

None of which are worth a drop of your concern. You can study anywhere else; you have the resources and the connections courtesy of your rich family, and the two companions by your side are your trusted bodyguards that have been with you since childhood. You can honestly live out your whole life without even lifting a finger. Generational wealth is the ultimate lifehack.

And yet, you’re in college at the behest of your parents, who spend more time abroad than at home. This is you going through the motions, looking after yourself.

After the next class, right as everyone’s packing their things and exiting, you spot her again. Jimin’s natural beauty is a lovely sight for the eyes. It’s only now do you realize you’ve shared at least one class with her. Maybe more; you’re too oblivious to the world around you to really notice. You only care about the bell that rings at the top of the hour so you can finally go home.

“Hey,” Jimin suddenly calls out to you, having noticed you glancing at her every now and then. You attempt to feign ignorance, but she approaches you and seizes your hand, catching you red-handed. “Can I speak to you, please?”

She sounds too nice to turn away. You’d be in the wrong to ignore her.

Still, you won’t fully look at her, the glint in her eyes blinding. You can only pray this is a brief exchange. “Sure. But make it quick.”

“I just want to say thank you—for earlier,” she says, her voice warm and sincere. She’s shaking your hand in appreciation; you allow her. “I’m not as rich as everyone else here, as you can see.” She looks down at her modest wear, apologetic about her appearance for some reason, “So—I don’t really have much. I’m only here on a scholarship—”

“Right.” You interrupt her, trying your hardest not to sound annoyed or bothered, though some of that impatience permeates through your filter. “Anything else you wanna say?”

Jimin becomes flustered, seemingly aroused by your low voice. A brief glance reveals her cheeks flushed red, her body trembling anxiously. She can’t have her way with words, either. “S-sorry. I just wanna say if you need help with schoolwork or anything, my services are available! My grades are good, I promise! That’s all. Again, thanks and see you around!”

Before you can even say a word or call her name, she already has one foot out the door, along with her belongings.

—————

One look at the student database proves her point: Yu Jimin, nickname Karina, might be what she advertised: an academic genius.

Her grades are mostly in the mid nineties across the board, if not low nineties. She’s only a year away from graduating—alongside you. The offer lingers on your mind, positively tempting.

“Sir, this just seems like a waste of money,” your one bodyguard turned hacker tells you, swiveling his desk chair around to face you. “There are more reputable tutors with better qualifications we can fly in from across the country if you really need a personal tutor. Also, your grades are good as they are. You don’t seem to be struggling with any specific major or subject right now. There’s no reason for this.”

“Yeah, and whose money are we spending?” you reply, annoyed at his admittedly sensible comment. 

“What will your family say about this?”

“Did I ask to be enrolled in this university? This course? Besides, they’ve never shown up for any of my graduations! I doubt this will be any different in a year or so. Go find her number so I can contact her.”

Sighing in defeat, he eventually acquiesces. They have to. “Of course, sir.”

—————

The next day on campus, Karina’s seated at the dining hall with her friends. Her eyes can only focus on one thing, or in this case, one man: the person that saved her yesterday. 

“You’re serious? Him?” Ningning looks concerned about her friend. She’s glaring at him with plenty of skepticism. They all know who he is. Not Karina, though. “That guy’s no good at all.”

“What are you saying?” she looks at her, puzzled at her comment. “He really did save me from those bullies. Don’t you believe me?”

“Yeah, but like—he’s not a good person!” Giselle frowns at the man, hiding the bottom half of her face behind her hands. “He’s a chaebol kid. He’s seriously no good! I’ve heard he gets into fights often; that's why he has bodyguards to intimidate anyone who tries to oppose him.”

“Rumor says he’s in cahoots with some crime syndicate—or at least his dad is,” Minjeong interjects, more trepid than anything. “That’s how he got his money. Who knows what kind of evil they might be doing!”

“But he was nice to me yesterday! If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have tried to save me, you know?” Karina stubbornly pays no heed, insisting her case to them, despite their growing frustration and fright. “You guys are overthinking this way too much.”

“It’s just so he can gaslight you into believing he’s a good guy. Please, Karina, he’s not what you think he is.” Ningning implores for her to listen, but to no avail.

“We’re not saying he’s truly bad, but there are signs,” Minjeong adds, agreeing with Ningning. “We just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Look—if he’s actually a bad guy, I’m running, all right? I’m ditching him right then and there, no questions asked.” Karina reassures them, hoping to calm them down right as the man approaches their table. “He’s coming right now.”

While the others silently avoid any form of contact or communication with you, hiding their not so subtle disdain, she happily waves. “Hi. Did you think about it?”

“Yeah,” you tell her, nodding. “I’m interested.”

“Really?” Karina’s eyes gleam at the opportunity. “What do you need help with?”

“Lots. I’ll tell you after class.” Knowing her friends are evidently uncomfortable with your presence, you simply walk past her and through the cafeteria door. “See you around.”

“Bye!” she waves at you again, delighted that you’ve taken up on her offer.

When it’s clear that you’re no longer in sight, Karina’s friends turn to her in utter disbelief.

“Please tell me you’re not going to—”

“I will.”

“Oh, God dammit.”

“Karina, please.”

—————

Later that day, Karina’s waiting by the campus parking lot, holding on to the promise of you showing up. It’s been almost an hour since classes ended and there’s no sign of you anywhere nearby. It looks like you’ll leave her out to dry, until—

“Miss Karina.” A man calls out to her from inside a luxurious car. As the windows roll down, she recognizes the driver as one of your companions. One of the rear doors automatically swings open. “Please step inside.”

Without a second thought, she enters the vehicle before it drives away.  

During the ride, the bodyguard asks her a question. “Does Miss Yu have a drink preference?”

She’s slowly taking it all in, flustered at how you’re treating her so generously. It’s overwhelming at times. “N-no. I’m not really a drinker. W-where’s—”

“He has already gone ahead. He’s preparing the house ahead of your arrival. When we get there, you will change clothes before meeting him. At his request, I have been assigned as your personal assistant and driver.”

“Y-you? Assistant?” She can hardly believe it. “Wow…”

Karina is rendered speechless for the rest of the ride. She’s taken aback at her sudden change in predicament. It’s a Cinderella story through and through. The only missing element is some antagonistic force threatening to end this fantasy abruptly, but that’s the least of her worries. What’s more concerning is how she’ll compose herself before you.

Especially when she sees the scale of your house upon arriving. She’s never seen wealth this exceedingly open and grand.

There’s no time to admire the opulence, however. She’s brought inside hastily by your bodyguard. Inside, a team of stylists are waiting, rushing her upstairs and into one of the bedrooms for a complete overhaul. They’re careful to measure her hair, her size, her everything. Everything is done on the spot, with next to nothing in terms of personal input from Karina herself.

—————

You hear it. The gentle, careful steps of heels clicking. Karina’s ready. So are you.

Turning around to welcome her, you’ve got this whole speech practiced and memorized, with a card hidden in your pocket for good measure. Instead, you end up tongue tied; her presence proves overwhelming to the senses. You can only stare in awe. All black dress and matching heels aside, she looks like an angel descended from heaven. Without blemish, without any sort of imperfection. She’s unreal. 

Any less of a person you are and you would have fallen to your knees on the spot, groveling on the ground when Karina walks forward, ignoring how nervous she is as you. She modestly smiles, carefully twiddling her fingers. She doesn’t recognize how pretty she is.

It becomes all the more embarrassing when Karina makes the first move. “I knew you were rich, but not this rich.” Her eyes are glancing around the expansive room, admiring all the little details, thankfully dismissing how speechless you are.

“Mhm,” is all you’re able to blurt out, unsure of what to say. In her sight, you’re her hero, her knight in shining armor that can seemingly do no wrong. Meanwhile, you’re overcompensating your lack of social skills by hiding behind a shallow enigma and as much vanity as possible. “Not exactly my money, to be fair. My parents raised me like this.”

You’re trying not to look anywhere in her direction—whether that be her pretty eyes, her warm smile, or her shapely figure in that body-hugging dress. It’s the only way you can function normally without completely falling apart.

“So—you’re gonna introduce me to them?” she asks, her tone saccharine and innocent. 

“I wish,” you reply, sighing wistfully thinking about their absence throughout most of your formative years. She’s unaware; you’ll let the insensitive question slide. Only for her. So you immediately change the topic. “Let’s go outside. Our dinner is waiting for us.”

You reach out your hand to her, and she takes it without hesitation. In your mind, you’re already jumping around, performing cartwheels in celebration, with fireworks blasting everywhere. For the most part, you’ve been punching up, failing to impress girls unimpressed with your wealth and are far beyond your reach. Everyone else in that campus would kill to be in Karina’s position right now, but something about her caught your eye that no one has. 

The purity in this girl’s heart is something else. 

Outside, a table full of hearty food is set before you two, a candle lit at its center. Sitting her down on one end before joining her at the other, it’s only background dressing for conversation. She refuses to eat, struggling to make sense of all this. The appeal behind all this luxury is wearing off at an alarming rate.

“What’s up? Not hungry?” you gently ask, already making predictions of her answer. Your designated assistant for her is on standby for anything she wants.

“Not really,” she says, her eyes staring back, wide, accompanied with her innocuous smile. A direct attack on your heart. “I’m—here for tutoring first. I don’t know what this is all for.”

“Yeah. You are here to help me,” you tell her, your mind racing with a hundred different thoughts, already in a state of panic. “I’m just—” you swallow a sudden lump in your throat, “welcoming you since it’s your first time visiting.”

“Like, I think this is really cool! I appreciate what you’re doing, but I can’t afford any of this.” Karina’s trying not to put any more pressure on you, but it’s really doing the exact opposite: you’re already seeing signs of a terrible end. “I just thought you were nice because you saved me from those bullies, you know? That’s it.”

“Yeah. I know,” you reply, looking down as the awkward air between you grows larger and larger. See, she has a point: it was never about asking for help, nor was it ever about improving your grades. It was always about her. Something changed overnight. You simply don’t know how to directly convey those feelings. 

“So—let’s just keep things between us simple,” Karina proposes. She rises from her seat, walking over with a hand on your shoulder. “I’m here to help you with whatever project, research, whatever—you only have to pay for my services. Is that good enough?”

“Wait. Karina let me ask one thing,” you say, finally mustering the courage to look her directly in the eye. 

“What is it?”

“Your friends,” you rapidly blink, “What did they say about me?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you that.” Her answer is delivered bluntly, straight to the point.

“They think I’m a bad guy, right?”

“N-no,” Karina stammers. That’s where you catch her. “They never said anything like that—”

Suddenly dragging her by the arm down to your level, you whisper in her ear, “Don’t have to lie, princess. I’m not gonna tell anyone. It’s only between us. Promise.”

Karina’s unsure of what to do. She’s quietly keening, lightly sweating, looking around for an out. The points her friends made are starting to make sense, but there’s nothing substantial—not yet.

After taking a moment, she folds. “They think your dad’s working with a syndicate. That’s it! There’s nothing else—”

You lightly shove her away, immediately concealing your face in the opposite direction. You didn’t expect her to catch on quickly. Karina’s utterly shocked by what you just did to her, cupping her cheek.

Empathy overrides every other thought.

“Sorry. I just—” You immediately approach her with a handkerchief, immediately assessing the damages, what little they might be. Karina takes a step back, trembling with fear.

“So, it’s true after all.” Her eyes widen. Gone is that sweet innocence; taking its place is a heightened sense of panic. “You’re really a bad guy—”

“Wait, Karina.” You raise a delicate hand, your voice as calm and little as possible. “Please give me a moment to explain.”

“Go on,” she says, cautiously wary, readying herself to run at any given moment. “But say it quickly,”

Stretching your body out to pursue her, examining her every move, every muscle. It didn’t have to end up like this. Surely, there are safer, more inconsequential ways to explain yourself. What a first date you’ve gotten into.

“It’s—not exactly what you think,” you tell her. Out of all the things to begin your justification, you’ve picked the worst possible choice.

“Really?” Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t buy it. “What’s with the reaction, then?”

Hesitating, you’re scrambling to find a believable reason, only to find just one option: the truth. “I—well—your friends are right, but—my dad doesn’t have anything to do with criminals!”

“So it’s you who’s dealing with them?” she replies, her brows furrowing, glaring at you.

“It’s nothing really serious, though. And I’m not involved with anything either! Believe me, I’m not going to get you hurt!”

Throughout this tense exchange, you’ve both made your way back to the house, one big step at a time.

“Trust me when I say: the only reason why I helped you was because I didn’t want to see you hurt,” you continue, your voice cracking. “Goddamn it—this is why I shouldn’t have stepped in, fuck—”

“You did that because—” she pauses, “you cared about me? For real?”

“I guess so,” you say, nodding vehemently, both your hands still raised high starting to ache. “I don’t do that for anyone! My bodyguards tell me to ignore what’s happening, but I just can’t stand someone as pretty as you getting hurt like that.”

“Y-you think I’m pretty?” Karina blinks, coming out twinkling and doe-eyed at the sudden revelation.

Secret’s out. There’s nothing to hide anymore.

Pausing, you admit, nodding much less energetically, silently cursing yourself spilling your innermost thoughts so casually, “Well, yes. I think you’re beautiful. All the more now.”

Karina stops moving. Her wariness is turning back to more open and willing caution. “So—this was really all for me.”

You continue to nod, this time in agreement. She still has so many questions. About you, your family, your income, your secret dealings. Clearly, her friends are onto something, whether by luck or by some past experience; not a hundred percent, but at least five to ten. It would be rash and irrational to completely trust every word you’ve said. No amount of kindness can possibly make up for the worry you’ve given her—

“Come here,” she says, lunging forward to wrap you in a sudden, tight embrace. Before you can comprehend anything else, her lips are pressed deeply against yours, sealing your fate with a passionate kiss. 

That’s where it should have stopped. A better person would have pushed her away, taken things slowly, spoken her through the terms of engagement. Even Karina said it herself; this is a transactional relationship. But seeing as you’re taking lease of her back, as well as her waist, tasting her saccharine lips—it appears as if she’s reneged on her word. 

You feel her tongue slip between your mouth, humming these incomprehensible delightful sounds your ears want to hear. It isn’t accidental; the taste takes you by surprise. Can’t show a little weakness, even if you’re close to buckling under the rapid growing pressure. The way she pours herself into the kiss, how she pushes you closer inch by inch—you can tell she’s wanted this. To be treated like a princess, to be treated right. It doesn’t matter if it’s coming from the wrong influence, the only thing she sees is your willingness to take her with open arms.

The only thing pulling you away from her is the ceaseless ringing from a phone.

Karina pulls a phone from her skirt pocket, her eyes tilting down, fingers moving with urgency, furiously typing on the screen. Her cheeks burn a rosy red, ashamed of having to put herself first in this situation. She’s smiling innocently at you, a sight you’ve grown to love even more. You understand if she tells you she’s leaving; you’ve already got her ride home on standby.

“Sorry,” she mutters, pressing buttons, hearing the ringer beep as the message is sent. “I’m still living with my parents, so—” Looking around, she’s shaking her arms loose. “I don’t think I can spend the night here, or come home looking like this—”

“Don’t worry about it,” you cut her off, confident, if not a little smug. “Neither of those things are gonna happen. I’ll get your ride ready and your clothes taken care of. But it’s still a little bit early,” you say, glancing at your watch, grinning at the time. It’s barely past seven in the evening. 

“I told them I’d be home by around ten tonight,” she remarks, putting her phone away, her gaze returning to you.

“That’s all the time we need.”

—————

Like the gentleman she thinks you are, you escort Karina up the stairs, hand in tow, leading her to your bedroom. Once the door is slammed shut and tightly locked, you immediately drop the act, and you’re back to kissing her passionately again.

You can’t be any less patient. Only a few minutes have passed, and you’re already dreading the end. The feeling of letting her go, of having to go back to your normal life the moment she walks through that door. You can’t imagine interacting like normal students again. Most importantly, you can’t imagine being the bad guy in everyone else’s eyes.

Karina brings out both the best and worst impulses from you. Abruptly breaking the kiss, you shove her onto the mattress, issuing a simple command. “Take that dress off.”

It’s been the only thing racing through your mind ever since. This divine, angelic figure straight out of heaven—effortlessly shining, effortlessly wearing the simple piece like she’s meant to be a canvas to be painted and used.

Gracefully rising from the bed, Karina looks you dead in the eye. Taking one strap in her hand, she pulls it down her shoulder, then the other. Reaching around her back, gravity does the rest. The garment smoothly rides down her body, revealing inch after inch of her skin, until she’s reduced to only her panties. 

Kicking the expensive fabric aside, along with her heels, Karina’s near naked presence demands worship.

“Fuck,” is the only thing you’re able to say, and it’s apt—fuck is the only thing you want to do to her. Hard. Fast. Without care for comfort or concern. 

Your eyes have no fixed area to rest on. When it comes to Karina, every little part of her is a treat for the senses, whether it be her slim waist, her tummy, her slender legs. But nothing captures and retains the attention quicker than her well-endowed breasts. So huge, so pliable, you can only wonder in amazement at how she’s been able to keep them secret for the longest time.

“Something wrong?” Karina asks, snapping you from your mindless daze, her tiny voice a contrast to the sheer sexiness she’s radiating just by standing there in the nude. God, she’s so blissfully unaware that you’re oh so obviously focused on her tits only; it’s endearing and sweet.

“Nothing. You’re perfect, actually.” Try as you might, you can only linger on her chest, watching them stare back, inviting you to come closer. Her nipples are taut and rigid, ripe for the taking.

The comment makes her face blush brighter. “Thank you.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, your pants already halfway down, shedding them along with your boxers. You’re imagining how they would feel sandwiched between your cock; you can’t help it. You’re stroking yourself to hardness, made substantially easier thanks to the image before you. “Has anyone told you you have perfect tits, Karina?”

“I’ve heard it here and there,” she says, delivered so casually, like it’s something she hears everyday—as she rightfully should. “I guess people sometimes notice through my baggy clothing.”

Pumping your shaft till you’re fully erect, you rid yourself of the rest of your clothes. Button up shirt and coat thrown away carelessly and readily forgotten. Karina takes the hint and slips off her panties, putting you both on equal footing. Creeping toward her, you press your finger on her chin, nuzzling your forehead against hers, setting the mood with a quick peck of her lips. There’s so much you want to do, visualizing all the possibilities with a body like hers.

“I want to touch you,” you tell her, tone low, sultry. Your hand traces down her collarbones, pointing out where they want to be: on her chest. 

“Go. Anything you want, but promise me one thing,” she replies, mimicking your inflection. Any request sounds so much hotter in her voice.

There’s zero hesitation. “Anything.”

“Promise you’ll pour all that cum deep inside me. I’ve been in relationships before. Just—give me a good fucking.”

“I will,” you say, kissing her passionately on the lips, your hands firmly pressed on her tits, watching Karina’s eyes close and open in slow motion. Going down, you leave kisses on her neck, collarbones, before reaching your intended destination: her chest. Burying yourself between her breasts, clamping down on her rigid nipple, forcing a sharp cry out of Karina’s saccharine lips. “I love these fucking tits, Karina. I love them so—so—much.”

“Please.” She coos up to the ceiling, grabbing you by the hair, pressing you further into them, intending to suffocate you—which is a demise you’ll happily go out on. Gasping, panting, struggling to keep herself steady, you both collapse onto the bed, allowing you to fully drink in her breasts. Darting your tongue, sucking on her stiff tits, sloppily leaving wet marks on her otherwise porcelain skin. “So—fucking—needy—”

Karina’s right. You’ve got her pinned down on the sheets like she’s prey, devouring her like a hungry animal. Giving her tits equal attention, going back and forth til you’re satisfied—which will never happen. Not with breasts as delicious as hers. Muffled by her bosom, you can only grunt and groan in appreciation, forgoing your ability to speak to keep satiating your unquenchable need. You love how her skin folds, how they crush in your hands. Squeezing them like your personalized stress balls, making her squeamish and erratic underneath you.

Meanwhile, she can only stick her head out, keening and mewling helplessly as you drown yourself in the heat of her breasts, without care for her personal comfort or yours. 

It’s always been part of you—greed. It’s what you were raised on. How you selfishly desire something and will stop at nothing until it’s in your grasp, no matter how little it has in value or how many resources are wasted. Not Karina. She’s one in a million—a diamond in the rough. A treasure worth cherishing over everything else, and you’d give up everything for her without a second thought.

Kissing down her rather tiny figure, her tummy, until you reach the depths of her aching core, already in heat. Looking up at her, so wrecked, so utterly incapacitated, you sink further—and she cries out in pain and in pleasure.

Propping her thighs up in the air, spreading her legs that extra inch wider, Karina cries, cries, and cries. Your tongue sucks away at her sticky nectar, her quivering core, putting immense pressure on her most sensitive spots. Soaking up just how wet she becomes with each passing second, you’ll happily drown in her skin. You love how she clenches, how she throbs and moans a pitch higher with every pass, every lap of your tip against her pussy brings her ever closer to her end.

Had it been anyone else, you would have finished right there. Make them unwind and cum all over your face as you indulge yourself with their juices, then leave them out to dry right after. Instead, you muster up the willpower to restrain yourself, reemerging from the depths of her cunt, before kissing up the path you’ve marked along. You can never grow tired of admiring and worshipping Karina’s breasts. 

Brushing loose strands of hair aside to get a look at her pretty face, glowing brilliantly even under duress. Whispering against her ear, you tell her, “Gonna fuck you right now.”

“Do it,” she says, breathless, gasping—and heaving—for air. “Please give it all to me.”

“Always.”

Slowly dragging your cock between her folds, your usually stiff expression gradually disintegrates upon vicious entry, unable to endure how tight she feels. The pulse and flex of her walls pulls you apart in every direction, her cunt threatening to snap you with one wrong move. Every little bit of resolve counts. Your fingers intertwine with hers, holding her down in place, even though she’s nowhere close to fighting back. In fact, it’s the exact opposite; she wants to be taken and used.

The cry of your name escapes from Karina’s lips, delivered like a call for help. A plea. It bounces around the room, echoing repeatedly in your head, the imagery instantly seared into your brain. 

“You fill me so fucking well,” she says, breath hot and heavy, her jaw agape as you hover atop her head. Her eyes snap wide open, on the verge of tears, “Does my pussy feel good? Does it feel so tight around you?”

You’re struggling to keep yourself together, showing signs of falling apart. You’re breathing heavily, only nodding back in agreement. The inability to move your body, desiring to stay inside her warmth out of fear it’ll prematurely ruin the moment speaks volumes. It’s a clearer response than any word can ever answer. 

Karina lightly rolls her hips forward, the friction far too great to remain still. You can only draw back in painstakingly slow motion, as if pulling a piece out of a collapsible tower. Even so, the feeling leaves you dizzy and lightheaded, the suffocating sensation quickly overwhelming the rest of your functional senses.

This little push is more than enough to set you snowballing further down. Thrusting back inside her heat, her fresh wetness allows you an easier passage in and out of her quivering pussy. Between calculated, deep breaths, you watch Karina take every inch of your cock without any resistance, letting these profanities and praises slip from her lips instinctively, punctuated by the growing echo of your skin slapping skin.

It becomes effortless rather quickly. The slide in and out of her heat. The pace more than enough to let all the ecstasy sink in. How she immediately relinquishes any semblance of control to you. Karina’s glued to the bed by your hands, her body rocking with every stroke, her tits jiggling in a hypnotic rhythm that captures your eyes. So perfect. So right. 

Unknowingly, she’s driving you mad. A little bounce isn’t gonna satiate you at this point. One poorly timed blink and you’ll be punishing yourself for it. There’s no going back. You needed more of her. 

As the bed violently creaks below, so does Karina’s tiny figure. As quickly as you’ve found the perfect rhythm to pound her, you just as quickly abandon it. Something about her brings out the best and worst in you, and you clearly see why. It’s the bounce—that damned ripple of her breasts, swinging up and down forcing your hips harder against her, threatening to break her. Her words turn to loud cries—of pleasure, of pain, and everything else in between. 

“More—oh, baby, please—” she keens, her eyes still completely shut, her lips twisting and contorting, struggling to find her words. Freely offering herself to you no strings attached, she takes it—and takes it all. “Harder—I’m so fucking close—please—”

It’s a request you’re more than eager to oblige.

Taking purchase of her back with one hand, lifting her slightly, and grabbing her breast with the other, you’re hammering away at her hot cunt, gasping. Squeezing her flesh, hearing her whine, turning her usually pale flesh red while her arms find solace on your shoulder—anything to keep your rapidly dwindling resolve from dissolving entirely. The end is imminent; you can only delay it by mere moments, minutes at best. 

Karina is so dangerously close, as she said—and as much as you hate to admit, so are you. 

It’s a race that you don’t want to win. As much as you want to keep it together for longer, your body says otherwise. You can’t stop fucking her, no matter how hard you wish to try—and even if you did, why would you even contemplate the idea; your thoughts mostly comprise of how incredibly good she feels around your cock, how they pulsate and grip you with every thrust. Moving inside her is second nature at this point. You eventually lay her back down, only so she takes every inch of you when it eventually happens.

“Don’t stop—don’t ever stop—” she pleads, as if your own mind wasn’t enough to invalidate the idea. Her nails cling to your scalp and neck, barely hanging on for dear life. She’s trembling, uncontrollably jerking beneath. Even she herself doesn’t want it to end. “So good—oh God—”

A handful of thrusts later, Karina cums, with your cock buried in the crevice of her cunt. 

Once again, her voice shoots up to the sky upon impact, screaming your name, her head tilted far back as the sheets allow her to. Jaw widely slack, her neck and collarbone exposed, she can’t stop trembling through her climax. Writhing in your grasp, she lets out a prolonged moan till her vocal cords flame out, her chest heaving for much needed oxygen. 

It doesn’t stop you from pounding into her pussy, even as it overflows with her slickness. If anything, it only accelerates your own demise. The wetness overload coating your cock proves to be overbearing for what little spunk you have left. 

“Me too, Karina—” you blurt out, hammering into her, gasping, bracing for impact as well. “I’m gonna—oh fuck—”

Your own peak overtakes you, rendering you speechless. Everything comes to a standstill. All you can do is bury yourself inside the absolute depths of her pussy, make her take every load, every drop. 

Filling the air with a harmonious moan as it hits you, your cock throbbing achingly, full of all that repressed need, and then—release. 

Spurt after spurt of hot, sticky cum you pour into her womb, not wasting a single drop. Karina cries and moans with every shot, while you can only groan a deep groan from your lungs. She takes it up, milking you of all your worth till you can’t anymore. Even as she drains you empty, you can’t stop pounding into her cunt, slowing your movements back to a grinded out pace till your orgasm dies, and so does your strength.

“That’s it—that’s all I needed—so, so good—”

Karina sighs, her fingers digging deep into your neck, dragging them across your shoulders, then sliding down your arms right after. She can barely open her eyes, only to find you slowly crashing into her, leaning your head to the side so you can rest beside her. Even your hips stop moving. You only have enough energy to wrap an arm around her tiny frame before you finally collapse under your own weight.

“You still have to take me home,” she whispers, mindful of your ear directly next to her, delivered in that oh so saccharine tone. 

“I know,” you mutter through the sheets, eliciting a gentle chuckle from her. Karina’s the one coming out of this in a better state. 

“Can you do something for me? Please?” 

She didn’t need to say the word, but it certainly helps her case tenfold.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I need you to drive me home.” Karina dips her head at an angle to face you. “Not your bodyguards. You.”

Tilting upward to get a good look at her, you lift a curious eyebrow. “I don’t mind—but why?”

“I just—” she faces away, pausing, breathing heavily. She’s about to say something she’ll regret. “Think it would be safer, yeah? Besides, I wouldn’t wanna be caught by my parents just being dropped off by people in suits.”

“Oh right.” 

“I mean this is nice and all but—” Karina stops again, lightly brushing your arm away. A reminder that wealth does not equate to relationship. “I think we’d be better off if we kept things strictly professional. You didn’t have to do all this. You were kind to me and that’s more than enough.”

You roll onto your back, staring up directly at the ceiling. You can only hope Karina is doing the same. She shouldn’t see how deflated you look—after you fucked her, no less.

“Karina, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

You don’t know exactly what to say. You’re only thinking about the what ifs and the what could, expecting the worst. So you look away, unable to face her a second longer.

Moments later, you feel the sudden tug of her embrace, a leg wrapped around yours. The softest kisses on your shoulder. You can feel her soft smile pressed against your neck. She’s cuddled up on you, intent on never letting go.

“Just keep being kind.”

—————

In the days ahead, it was about saving face. 

Karina’s wish has seemingly been lost in translation and disregarded, as you’ve been putting distance from her. Any little sign that she’s around is your signal to leave. It helps when you have two extra pairs of eyes keeping watch and alerting you at once.

All this to reinforce the same statement you’ve heard from her friends: that you’re no good whatsoever. 

Cautiously eavesdropping on their conversation through your unassuming bodyguards, you hear Karina’s distress over your earpiece, lamenting to her sisters about your absence in her life.

“I seriously don’t understand you. Are you deaf? Are you stupid?” says Ningning, vindicated about her stance. “He ghosted you. They always do that! Not just him! Believe me, I’ve been through worse.”

“Please trust us. Rina, we’re worried about you,” adds Giselle, her tone showing more empathy and concern. “There’s no use in worrying about a man after you did—that.”

“No no. I want to believe,” Karina replies, insistent on you, ignoring all the red flags being waved around. “He really appreciates the affection I gave him. I have to. He seems like a good person in heart—”

“Ugh—here we go again with that good guy shit,” interjects Ningning, frustrated at her friend’s stubbornness. You hear a powerful thud, presumably from a table getting slammed in anger. “He isn’t a good guy! God, Karina, this is why you get bullied—”

“Hey, Ning. Let’s not go that far,” Giselle interrupts, her tone low. “Everyone’s looking at us.”

Dead silence follows, seemingly lasting an eternity. And then—

“Good job, Ning. She left and you made us look bad in front of everyone else,” Giselle adds, breaking the vast stillness, huffing before the audio goes quiet again.

“All the girls have left the cafeteria,” says your first bodyguard, the one you’ve assigned to Karina the first time.

“That’ll be all. Great work,” you tell them over the earpiece before disconnecting. 

You’re not hiding anywhere inside campus. In fact, you’ve been resting in the comfort of your own home the entire time. On your phone’s screen is Karina’s number, having been registered in your contacts since last week. Not once have you bothered messaging her, let alone call—yet you constantly return to it. With each passing day, the temptation to press that button grows stronger and stronger. 

You place your phone down on the desk, as if that’s gonna change anything. Seconds later, it’s in your hand, still on those 10 digits. Calling to you, as if her very voice is somehow playing through those tiny speakers. It’s all in your head, yet it feels vivid through your senses.

It all but confirms your own feelings: you can’t move on, and neither can she.

You’re looking around, even though not a soul’s in sight, convincing yourself to turn back before you fall further down. Seeing as there’s not a form of opposition, whatsoever, you pull the trigger, consequences be damned.

In the few seconds between calling the number and her imminent responding, you’re hoping she doesn’t answer. That she sees her friends’ points, to prove that you’re in the right by leaving her to dry.

All it takes is a few key words.

“Hey. I missed you.”

��————

There’s a lot to take in, but first—you swallow your own pride. This is your own doing, after all.

Looking out the window from your couch, it’s already night. Last time you checked, the sun had only begun setting; that was four hours ago, apparently. Meanwhile, Karina lies flat on the bed, every part of her mindlessly used, mindlessly fucked. Her skin gleaming, blemished in a sea of fiery red and sticky white. Her clothes scattered all over the house, their purpose rendered obsolete the moment she walked back in. You were standing there—waiting, expecting. Along with her body, came a simple request, in her words:

“Take me like you fucking missed me.”

Delivered straight to the point, Karina is something else. She’s twisted and cruel in her own way. To make such a demand in the sweetest voice possible—you can only chalk it up to witchcraft. And to think she was the one who wanted to keep things professional.

Any intentions to study and help with projects and research was a complete lie—it was more of a roundabout way for you to get inside her, over and over again. If anything, her body was the primary object of interest. 

All the ways you can fuck her, how she wants it—anything to get you to cum in her pussy. And that’s exactly what you did.

Spearing your hips against her frame, you find that Karina is so flexible, malleable to your every whim. How she complies without complaint or moment of hesitation, propping herself in whatever position your mind thought of in the moment, and there’s a few you were dying to try. On her fours, with her legs spread wide, on her knees, making an example out of her. So utterly shameless.

And God, she takes it all quite effortlessly, like it’s second nature to her. Milking you dry with her cunt, with her mouth, making you cum with some friction from her tits—everything is a little too easy. Taking just one look at her perfectly sculpted figure, it makes a lot of sense. Yet, Karina has to explain to everyone else why she can’t walk properly in the morning.

A week’s worth of repressed desires and wanton needs, completely gone in a few short hours. It may as well have been a year, maybe two, since you last met. 

You can only watch from a distance, from your couch, as everything falls apart. Even a single second that you’re at arm’s length and she’d be burying your grave deeper. As if it’s gonna change tonight’s outcome.

Like a reanimated corpse coming back to life, Karina rises from the bed, assessing the damage. It’s quite a lot. She’s an absolute wreck.

“I think I may have gone too far in some places,” you remark, observing her take your cum into her mouth with her finger. 

“I don’t believe that,” she says, taking another scoop and savoring the taste, flashing her pasty white tongue. You instinctively avert your gaze, much to her amusement.

“Christ—Karina, what happened to setting boundaries?” you ask, genuinely concerned. Even if it’s for one night, that’s all it takes for everything to snowball out of control. “I don’t think we can do this on the regular, even if I wanted to.”

“True,” she tells you, matter-of-factly, before stepping on the ground and pacing towards you, limping, barely recovering, “But I got nothing else except you.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? You’ve genuinely changed my life,” she says, propping her hands to her knees to lean forward. “No one bullies me anymore. Because they think I’m your girl. I’m your possession.”

The way Karina calls herself yours gives you goosebumps. Your eyes widen in disbelief.

“This is what you’ve done to me,” she continues, tracing a finger down her drenched core, splayed and ruined—your handiwork—before rubbing her slick against your arm, eventually pushing it between your lips. You allow her. Her voice turns a pitch lower with each sentence. “I can’t express how much I need you right now.”

Sinking further back into your seat, you slowly tilt your face towards her, greatly alarmed. “You’re scaring me a little, Rina. We really should—”

She places that same finger between your lips, now to shut you up. Pressing herself forward, straddling on your lap, she makes sure her cum-soaked tits are directly in view of your face, threatening to smother you between them. Her smile is the cherry on top, inviting you to relax the senses and let yourself go in that familiar lust once again. “We can talk about this—on the other side.”

And before you know it, Karina’s riding you hard, with your face buried deep between her chest, worshiping her. You had no chance.

The next time you gain awareness, you’re back in bed, cuddled beside her. With her back against yours, she’s soundly asleep, despite the repeated calls from her phone and your supposed agreement to have her home by ten. 

It’s already half past midnight.

“Goddammit, Rina,” you mutter, eliciting a light shudder as your hot breath tickles her skin. “I can’t.”

“Just for tonight,” Karina tells you, as if you aren’t gonna be doing this again tomorrow—and the next night, and the one after. “My parents aren’t home,” she adds, clearly lying through her teeth.

“We seriously need to talk about this,” you tell her, rolling out of bed, scrambling for a fresh pair of clothes from the nearby closet. Meanwhile, Karina remains lying on your bed. She has no intention to leave. You have to reiterate again, “What happened to setting boundaries?”

Even the simple act of propping herself up draws your attention, more so in the nude, especially when she’s glistening in your sheen. The question amuses her; look at her teasing expression, ready to fire back. “You’re the one who called me here. So—”

“Jesus, Karina,” you sigh, working around the clock to get everything in order. Car’s ready, her clothes are in the wash. God willing, she’s actually telling the truth. “Why are you like this—”

She laughs—heartily.

—————

The next day on campus, you make it official. Sort of.

Karina’s friends are seated across the hall, their wary, foreboding gazes singling you out of the whole room. Intentions aside, you have no fight with any of them; it’s nothing personal. After all, it’s her choice. You’ll let them judge. You’re on your own for this one; you’ve told your bodyguards to leave you alone so as to make yourself look approachable in their eyes—even if there’s a negative chance they’ll ever buy it.

Then she enters the room, giving each one a kiss and a hug, as if they’re about to part ways for a long, long time. They’re overreacting; it’s not as though you’ll whisk her away and isolate her in some lonesome high castle.

You get a good look at her when she finally walks over. She’s wearing the new clothes you gave her last night. She makes your heart race with delight.

When she takes her seat directly opposite yours, you can’t help but silently remark, “They really don’t like me.”

She lightly chuckles. “Trust me. I’ve tried.”

“Yeah, I’m not asking them to like me,” you tell her, smiling from ear to ear, reaching out your hand, which she accepts. “I’m just—hoping they’ll see me one day as you do.”

“Sure they will. I believe deep down, you’re really a sweet guy.” 

You lower your head, unable to face her, but your face tells it all.

“Just to be clear, you’re not gonna make me actually sign a contract?” Karina asks, puzzled about the need to meet up on campus specifically to set your boundaries. The truth is, anywhere else that wasn’t school would be a distraction.

“Of course not,” you say, baffled at the idea yourself. “Dad usually did the paperwork, and that seems really weird.”

“So is having sex shortly after saving the damsel in distress,” she says, smirking through each word, mentally patting herself on the back for that remark.

Shaking your head in disgust, she laughs at your annoyed expression. That never gets old.

“Right—so what are we then?” Karina leans forward, grabbing your stretched out hand, her eyes widening. She’s looking to kiss you—at least that’s what her face is doing.

Ruminating through your next words carefully, occasionally giving the corner behind her a glance, her friends running through your mind, you reply, “Let’s just say I’m your benefactor for now. I don’t really want anyone to get surprised, and let’s just say, I’m not ready to handle everything just yet. But I want to stay close with you.”

“So we’re friends?”

“Yeah, if that’s how you want to see it.”

“Then there’s no need for this. Aren’t we already close?”

“Well I’m giving you money and clothes, in addition to letting you come over to my place once a week, so—”

Karina tugs your hand forward, interrupting you. “I don’t really need any of this. I just want you to treat me like anyone else. Like a friend. Just do that.”

You end up choking on your own words. Even when she’s admonishing you, Karina remains gentle in tone. And she knows how to bring the conversation around gracefully.

“So, what do you say we go out and have a snack later? After class?” 

With a lovely face and smile like hers, you’d be foolish to refuse her offer.

As the bell rings, you’re nodding in agreement when everyone stands up in unison, heading off to their next class. Karina leaves to regroup with her friends, but not without giving you a kiss goodbye as she walks through the door. You can only stare back—smiling.

Then you get a notification on your phone. A text from an anonymous number, seemingly demanding something urgently in all caps. Something about delayed shipments, but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

Paying no heed to the message, you’re cancelling your plans for today to make room for your first date with Karina.

—————

(A/N: Thank you for the commission! Was supposed to drop around Christmas, but then the holidays got busy, and then literally the day after Christmas, my dumbass just had to get food poisoned and hospitalized. Oof. Just poor timing all around, damn.

Fun little prompt, I was feeling a little edgy writing this, not gonna lie. Definitely left some clues for when I wanna revisit it. Karina is unfathomably hot, and I'm starting to like aespa a lot lately. They've probably had the best year of any girl group, and it's well deserved. Thank you for reading!)

[xhyjin]

thinking about nanami kento! (when am i not) with a s/o that is socially awkward/shy

he knew from the start that you were distant. during work parties, you never showed up, only clocking in to work and leaving once your duties were done, never lingering to chat or mingle. the rare times you did attend, you stayed in the corners, quietly observing with wide, nervous eyes and a faint blush coloring your cheeks. he couldn’t help but be intrigued, and one day, curiosity got the better of him. he approached you. your words stuttered, your face burned red, but there was something about the way you responded that made him instantly drawn to you. from that moment, you became his reason to look forward to work every day.

he began to notice the little things about you. how you stayed tucked away in your cubicle, only speaking to coworkers when necessary. how you spent your lunch breaks alone, either watching a show on your phone or quietly eating, lost in your own thoughts. and how, at the end of the day, he’d sometimes catch you smiling to yourself in the elevator, as though you’d found happiness in the smallest of things. it fascinated him how content you seemed in your own world, and after weeks of silently admiring you, he finally decided to approach you properly.

but he was careful—patient. he knew you were shy and reserved, so he didn’t want to overwhelm you. he started small, spending lunch breaks with you. at first, the silence between you both was awkward, though not unwelcome. you blushed furiously at the attention but didn’t push him away. instead, you quietly shared bits of your lunch with him, a subtle gesture that said, i’m glad you’re here. he knew you struggled with words, so he didn’t press. instead, he let his presence speak for itself, slowly building a bridge of comfort between the two of you.

when kento finally worked up the courage to ask you out, making it clear that this wasn’t just work-related but a date; you could hardly believe it. your eyes widened, and then you nodded eagerly, your happiness shining through. his heart swelled at your reaction. he had planned a simple outing, maybe a cafe, but seeing your excitement, he wanted to make it special. he made reservations at a nice restaurant, ensuring you’d have a secluded spot to enjoy your time without pressure.

the date started just as he expected. you were quiet, your voice barely above a whisper when you responded to him, sticking mostly to “yes” or “no” answers. but kento was nothing if not patient. he asked small, simple questions, easing you into a conversation, and when he mentioned something you loved, your entire demeanor changed. your eyes lit up, your voice grew stronger, and you started talking more, rambling on about your interests. you didn’t even realize how much you’d been speaking until the waitress interrupted to take your order. your face turned crimson as you sulked in embarrassment, worried you’d talked too much. but when you glanced at kento, his gaze was soft, a gentle smile on his lips, he looked utterly captivated.

ordering was its own challenge. you felt embarrassed, too shy to tell the waitress what you wanted. kento noticed your hesitation and, with a subtle nudge of his foot under the table, gave you something to focus on. you nudged him back, and it was enough to calm your nerves, allowing you to place your order. he was thoughtful like that, always finding quiet ways to make you feel at ease.

by the end of the date, you’d grown comfortable enough to start asking him questions. the two of you talked for so long that you didn’t notice the restaurant had emptied. when you finally left, the night felt far from over. kento drove you to the beach, where the two of you walked hand in hand along the shore. the sound of the waves filled the comfortable silence between you, and when you stopped to look at the moonlight reflecting on the water, he turned to you and asked, “may i kiss you?”

your heart raced, but you nodded, and when he kissed you, it was as if you were something fragile, precious. he didn’t want to rush you or make you uncomfortable, but under the glow of the moon, he couldn’t resist the beauty of the moment—or of you.

after that, the two of you continued to grow closer, going on more dates and eventually making it official. over time, you began to come out of your shell, though you still retained your social awkwardness. kento loved every part of you, from the way you stumbled over your words to the way you blushed under his gaze. to him, you were perfect exactly as you were, and he made sure you always knew it.

[yanderenightmare]

part one

TW: nsfw, dubcon, blackmail

fem reader

As promised, you receive the pictures in the mail while the payment is forwarded almost emmidiatly. You don’t know which makes you gawk more, the photos of you or the numbers.

You also get an email—an invitation. The photographer is asking you to dinner. Or, asking is putting it nicely—which he most certainly didn’t. It’s phrased like a notice from your boss—matter-of-factly, he’s picking you up at eight, wear something nice.

You think about declining, but then you think about your friend again and how you don’t want to cause her any trouble. A free dinner isn’t really all that bad, is it?

It’s worse, actually.

“You should have told me you didn’t have anything to wear. I would have lent you something,” is the first thing he says when you get in his car. He hadn’t opened the door for you or anything, just sat in the driver’s seat waiting.

And though your cheeks burn with embarrassment, you think you’re foolish for it. You hadn't really dressed to impress him, after all—something you might as well tell him, “Maybe I just didn’t feel like dressing up. You didn’t exactly leave a good impression last time we met, so I don’t believe I owe you anything.”

He scoffs with a grin—face turned towards the road as he starts driving. “You have a lot more bite without your friend.”

“She has too much respect for you.” You cross your arms and look out the window. 

“That’s for sure.” You hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t offer any more of a response. You’re glad to spend the rest of the drive in silence.

You feel underdressed at the restaurant. You hadn’t thought he’d take you somewhere so nice. Most of the other couples there are dressed as if for a gala, while you’re dressed as if you’re going to an office party.

He hasn’t tried too hard himself. But still, he fits in—fat watch on his wrist, kempt hair, neat shoes, dress trousers, and a silk shirt with one too many buttons undone—a nauseating skinny chain beneath the collar as well as the hint of a chest tattoo. You bet it’s one of those dumb tribal inks, probably with some mundane Japanese characters he doesn’t know the meaning of.

“Is this where you undermine all the models desperate for your recognition?” you sigh as you sit down.

“We haven't even gotten our menus, and you’re already causing a scene?” 

He’s the one who was rude the moment you got in the car. In fact, he was rude the minute you met him. “Might as well speed this along.”

He chuckles—his smile genuinely amused instead of angered the way you’d imagined—the way you’d remembered from last time when he sent girls crying. “You know, for a face like that, you have one hell of a tongue.”

He orders wine by the name with ease and swiftness before returning to what he was saying.

“I like that. Most models are dull, but not you.”

“I don’t agree. And I’m a model,” you snip, showing no interest in his flirting.

 “No? Didn’t you see the pictures?” Your attitude doesn’t seem to deter him—rather, it only seems to egg him further on. “I have them all mounted on my walls at home—you should come see.”

This makes you falter. Looking at him from across the table with rounded eyes. “On your walls?”

“Framed.” He smiles, finally having broken through—he only intends to take it further. Not that what he was saying wasn’t true. “I just couldn’t help myself. I consider it my best work.” 

The look on your face is something between disgusted and uncertain—speechless in a sense.

It makes him laugh again. “Does anything flatter you?”

The wine comes. He’s poured a glass for testing.

“Not when spoken by men like you.”

His grin grows as he swirls the liquid around, smelling it like a phony.

“That’s a shame,” he says before taking a sip. He nods to the waiter, and you’re poured a similar glass. Meanwhile, he looks at you. “I’d like to flatter you—I’d like to spoil you even. You seem like you deserve it.”

You sip your glass. “No need.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You currently work at a diner, right?”

You gaze at him from atop your glass, brows furrowing. “How do you—”

“I didn’t.” It’s a lie, of course, he’d searched you up and gone over every little detail he could find. “It’s clear from the looks of you—”

“Fuck you,” you snap, putting your glass down a bit too harshly, enough to make a little wine slip and spill.

He doesn’t mind it. “Oh, I want you to,” he says instead. “After I pay for dinner and drive you back. We can fuck right under my favorite portrait of you.”

You’re stunted by his crude words, but only for a second. “How about we skip dinner, and you go fuck yourself.” 

His smile doesn’t drop, even as you get up to leave. “Settle down, sweetheart.”

“Make me, jackass.” 

You’re on your way to go, but his next words have you halting. 

“Either you humor me, or I make sure your friend never models in the country again.”

You turn around to look at him. You don’t really know why you’re so surprised. The card he just pulled is the very reason you agreed to the dinner in the first place. But an incentive is very different from outright blackmail, and suppose you just hadn’t really believed he’d take it that far.

“It’s my impression you don’t want that,” he continues.

You sit back down. He tops your glass off.

“I could make her big, you know?” he offers while pouring for himself as well. “Really speed her career along—set her up for life. I’ll do the same for you, too, of course.” 

He swirls his wine, lifting it as if to make a toast.

“And all you gotta do is come back home with me.”

You don’t have the words.

“You won’t be disappointed,” he promises. “I’m good at it.” As if that’s your concern. “You’ll never want to fuck anyone else again.”

You hate how right he is. 

You’ve never cum sooner or harder before in your life, not with anyone else or on your own. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced—so good, you’re screaming—moaning out in echoes throughout his giant penthouse, bouncing off the marble floors into all unlocked rooms, creating a cacophony of your undeniable pleasure.

He’s on his knees beneath you as you lean with your back against the window overlooking the city, barely able to stand as he buries his face between your soft thighs, canting his chin up while lapping hard at your slit and clit. His hard stare set on your face and the way you throw your head back while cumming in his mouth—your hand tussled in his hair, yanking on it hard enough to make him growl.

Your legs and feet give you little support. It's his hands that keep you up as you slide further and further down the floor-to-ceiling window until you’re almost about ready to drop your weight completely.

But he’s made you come undone three times by then, and just can’t wait any longer. 

He’s spun you around before you know it, making you face the pretty lights of the city skyline—his mouth hot on the shell of your ear, “I told you so, didn’t I?”

Your breath fogs the glass with your panting—knees wobbly, only standing thanks to the thick arms he’s got supporting you, each with a tit in their hand, giving them rough squeezes as he starts pounding away at your womb—hard enough to make the city lights blend in with the stars. 

“You won’t wanna fuck anyone else again.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Aizawa, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Oikawa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin ♡ AOT – Levi ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[kittysylus]

⋆˚࿔ I’ll spend forever convincing you 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

-the LaDS men planning a special date after not seeing you for a long time

୨ৎ── . Sylus

The hum of the engine is the only sound filling the quiet night air as Sylus straddles his motorcycle. You’re still rubbing sleep from your eyes, standing on the pavement in mismatched shoes, your pajama shorts and his oversized hoodie, blinking at him in confusion.

"Get on," he says, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

You cross your arms, raising a skeptical brow. "Are you kidnapping me?"

Sylus chuckles, reaching out to tug you closer by your wrist. His grip is warm, calloused, familiar. "Haven't had much time together lately, so I figured we'd fix that. Midnight road trip. Just you, me, and the open road."

Your heart does an embarrassing little flip. He always had a way of making things sound effortlessly exciting. Still, you narrow your eyes at him. "And where exactly are we going?"

He pulls a folded map from his jacket pocket and hands it to you. "Wherever you want."

You glance between him and the map, before dramatically closing your eyes and jabbing your finger onto a random spot. Peeking at the location, you snort. "We're gonna end up in the middle of nowhere, you know."

"Even better," he says, already revving the engine. "Now get on before I throw you over my shoulder."

Rolling your eyes but smiling, you slip onto the bike behind him, arms automatically wrapping around his torso. The scent of his leather jacket and that faint mix of sandalwood and something unmistakably him fills your senses as he accelerates down the empty road. The world around you blurs, the streetlights turning into streaks of gold, the wind whipping through your hair.

At first, you rest your cheek against his back, just feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body beneath your hands. Then, as the city fades behind you, you lift your head, taking in the vast, open road stretching endlessly before you.

"Feeling alive yet?" Sylus shouts over the wind.

You grin, squeezing him tighter. "You wish. Try harder."

He laughs, deep and rich, before suddenly accelerating. You yelp, but it's drowned in laughter as the bike surges forward, the thrill of speed sending a rush of adrenaline through your veins.

As you ride through the night, he occasionally glances back at you, ruby eyes flickering with something softer, more content. And in those moments, you know—he’s not just enjoying the ride, he’s enjoying you, your presence, your laughter, the way you lean into him like you belong there.

After miles of roads and stolen kisses at red lights, you finally arrive at your random, nowhere destination—a quiet stretch of land with an open sky scattered with stars. Sylus kills the engine, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, breathing in the stillness of the night.

You slide off the bike, stretching your legs. "Well, this is... remote."

Sylus only smirks and pulls you into his chest. "Wasn't about the destination anyway," he murmurs, pressing a kiss against your temple.

You scoff but let yourself sink into his warmth. "So what now?"

He tilts your chin up with a teasing smirk. "Now? We enjoy the night. And maybe—just maybe—you admit this was a great idea."

You huff, but the fondness in your gaze betrays you. "Fine. But next time, I'm driving."

His laugh echoes under the starlit sky, deep and full of love. 

୨ৎ── . Zayne

The front door clicks open softly, and you barely stir under the warm blankets. You know it’s Zayne before you even open your eyes—the faint scent of antiseptic and the quiet, measured footsteps are enough to tell you he’s finally home.

He’s late again. Too many shifts, too little time together.

You hear him sigh as he kicks off his shoes, but before he can crawl into bed beside you, you turn over, blinking sleepily at him. “You look exhausted.”

Zayne freezes, caught in the act of peeling off his jacket. His sharp green eyes soften when they meet yours, and for a moment, he just stares. Then, he exhales a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “You always catch me.”

You smirk, stretching lazily. “Maybe because you’re terrible at sneaking in.”

He grins, but instead of climbing into bed, he tugs at your hand, coaxing you up. “Come on.”

You groan dramatically. “Zayne, it’s past midnight. Where are we going?”

“To the kitchen.” He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “We’re having breakfast.”

You blink at him. “Now?”

“Now.” He tugs you up more insistently. “We haven’t had time together lately. Let’s change that.”

Your lips part in surprise, but the way he’s looking at you—so hopeful, so needing you—makes it impossible to refuse. With a resigned sigh, you let him pull you out of bed, following him to the kitchen.

The kitchen is bathed in a warm, golden glow from the dim overhead lights. Zayne rolls up his sleeves and grabs ingredients while you sit on the counter, watching him with an amused smile.

“So, Doctor, what’s on the menu?” you tease.

He shoots you a playful glare as he sets down a carton of eggs. “You’re the one who wanted waffles the other day.”

“I didn’t say I wanted them at midnight.”

“Too late. You’re getting waffles.” He tosses you a whisk, and you barely catch it in time. “And pancakes.”

You laugh, shaking your head, but start mixing the batter anyway. Zayne may be tired, but right now, he looks more at peace than he has in days. His usual aloofness melts away as he works beside you, measuring, stirring, stealing kisses and little glances your way.

When the first pancake is ready, you grab a plate and start decorating it just for him. You drizzle syrup in the shape of a heart and add fresh berries around the edges. With a proud smirk, you slide the plate toward him. “For you. A masterpiece.”

Zayne leans on the counter, inspecting it with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “Hmm… artistic. A bit crooked, though.”

“Oh, shut up. Yours better be good.”

He smirks before taking his time plating your waffle. When he finally slides it over to you, you nearly choke on laughter. He’s drizzled chocolate sauce in what’s supposed to be a smiley face, but it looks more like a deformed ghost.

“What—what is that?” you wheeze.

“It’s you,” he deadpans. “Beautiful.”

When everything is ready, you two sit down at the kitchen table. As you take your first bite, you hum in approval. “Okay, maybe midnight breakfast was a good idea.”

“Told you.”

You glance at him, finding him already looking at you. The tired lines around his eyes don’t look so heavy anymore. Instead, there’s something else—something warm, content.

You nudge his foot under the table. “You should sleep after this.”

Zayne sighs but doesn’t argue. Instead, he reaches over, his fingers brushing against yours. “I will.” Then, quieter, “Thank you for staying up with me.”

You squeeze his hand. “Always.”

And in the quiet of your little kitchen, under the glow of soft lights and the scent of fresh waffles, you both finally breathe.

୨ৎ── . Rafayel

The salty ocean breeze kisses your skin as you step onto the warm sand, the golden glow of the late afternoon sun painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. The rhythmic crash of waves against the shore is soothing, but your mind is fixated on something else—the note in your hands.

"If you want to find me, follow the clues. I promise the treasure at the end is worth it."

You roll your eyes, though a small smile tugs at your lips. Rafayel—always the dramatic romantic. It had been a while since you two had spent proper time together, both of you caught up in your own worlds. But instead of simply asking for a date, your ridiculous, artistic boyfriend had decided to set up a full treasure hunt.

Shaking your head in amusement, you glance down at the sand near your feet, where a small arrow is drawn, pointing toward the rocky cove in the distance.

“Alright, Captain Rafayel,” you murmur to yourself, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

You follow the arrow, the soft grains of sand shifting beneath your feet, until you reach a cluster of large rocks. Nestled between them, half-buried in the sand, is a small glass bottle with another note inside.

Unrolling it, you read:

"Remember where we watched the stars that night? I left something for you there."

Your heart stutters at the memory—the two of you lying on a blanket under the night sky, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns on your arm as he murmured about stars.

With a renewed sense of excitement, you make your way to that very spot, just beyond the dunes. And waiting there, tucked beneath a seashell, is a delicate silver bracelet with a tiny charm—a crescent moon. A quiet gasp leaves your lips as you pick it up, your fingers brushing over the cool metal.

Another note sits beneath it:

"A small piece of the night sky for my star. Keep going."

You swallow against the warmth blooming in your chest, slipping the bracelet onto your wrist before continuing.

The next clue leads you to a weathered wooden pier, where you find a small box of your favorite chocolates wrapped in twine. Then, to the tide pools, where another note is hidden inside a sketchbook, filled with unfinished doodles of you—your laughter, your scowls, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear.

By the time you reach the final clue, your heart is racing.

The last note simply says:

"Turn around."

You spin on your heel, and there he is. Rafayel, standing a few feet away, watching you with that familiar smirk—but there's something softer beneath it, something tender. The setting sun catches in his eyes, making them glow like embers, and his hair is tousled slightly by the wind.

“Well?” he drawls, spreading his arms lazily. “Did I impress you?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you march straight toward him and throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. He stiffens in surprise for only a second before he melts into you, his arms wrapping securely around your waist.

“You absolute idiot,” you murmur against his shoulder. “You didn’t have to do all of this.”

His chest rumbles with a quiet laugh as he presses a lingering kiss to your temple. “I wanted to.” He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. “We haven’t had enough time together lately. Thought I’d remind you how much I love you.”

Your breath catches at the quiet sincerity in his voice. For all his teasing and confidence, Rafayel loves deeply—intensely.

You lift your wrist, showing off the bracelet with a small smirk. “You’re just trying to bribe me with gifts.”

He huffs a laugh but tugs you even closer. “Maybe.” Then, lowering his voice, “Did it work?”

You pretend to think, tapping your chin. “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe I need a little more convincing.”

His lips twitch before he leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips, the taste of the ocean and him stealing the breath from your lungs.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his voice a whisper against your skin.

“I’ll spend forever convincing you.”

୨ৎ── . Caleb

The scent of summer grass and candle wax lingers in the air as you lie back on the soft blanket, gazing up at the endless stretch of stars above you. The night is quiet, except for the distant hum of crickets and the soft rustling of the wind through the trees. And beside you—so close that his warmth seeps into your skin—is Caleb.

Lately, your time together had been slipping through your fingers, stolen away by busy schedules and fleeting moments. But tonight, Caleb had shown up at your door, eyes burning with quiet determination, holding a basket in one hand and a thick blanket in the other.

"No excuses," he had said before you could even ask what was going on. "I’m taking you somewhere."

You had rolled your eyes, but your heart had betrayed you, skipping a beat at the sheer intensity in his gaze. And now, here you were—miles away from the city, surrounded by nothing but open fields and a sky so vast it made you feel weightless.

"You’re quiet," Caleb murmurs beside you, his deep voice laced with something softer than usual. He props himself up on one elbow, watching you instead of the stars.

You let out a small hum. "Just enjoying the view."

He smirks. "I hope you mean the sky and not me."

You turn your head to meet his gaze, the glow of the lantern casting flickering shadows across his sharp features. His purple eyes, always so intense, hold an unreadable expression.

"Who says I wasn’t talking about you?" you tease.

His smirk falters for a fraction of a second before he exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Careful, sweetheart. You keep saying things like that, and I might just have to keep you here forever."

"Is that supposed to be a threat or a promise?"

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his fingers tracing slow circles against your wrist. His possessiveness—the way he always needs to be touching you, keeping you close—would have annoyed you if it didn’t feel so achingly sincere.

"You work too hard," he murmurs against your skin. "I wanted to steal you away for a little while."

You sigh, letting your fingers tangle in his hair, feeling the way his body relaxes slightly under your touch. "You make it sound like I’m the only one who’s been busy."

He hums, conceding the point. "Maybe. But I miss you."

Your heart clenches at the raw honesty in his voice. You shift onto your side, reaching up to brush your fingers against his jaw. "I’m right here, Caleb."

His gaze darkens slightly, and before you can say anything else, his lips are on yours—slow and deep, like he’s trying to make up for every second you’ve been apart. When he finally pulls away, his breath is warm against your cheek.

"You taste like strawberries," he mutters, and you laugh softly, nudging the fruit bowl between you two. "Would’ve been weird if I didn’t."

Caleb rolls his eyes but tugs you closer, your body fitting against his like you belong there. With one arm draped around your waist, he tilts his head back toward the sky. "Alright, since we’re technically stargazing, tell me—what’s your favourite constellation?"

You smile, pointing at a cluster of stars. "That one. Because it looks like a cat."

He raises an eyebrow. "That is not a real constellation."

"Sure it is. I just discovered it."

Caleb huffs a laugh, shaking his head before tightening his grip around you. "Fine, then from now on that one is my favourite constellation too.”

୨ৎ── . Xavier

The soft hum of whispered conversations and the scent of old books fills the air as you step into the library, your fingers laced with Xavier’s. The warm lighting casts a golden glow over the endless rows of bookshelves, making everything feel timeless—quiet, intimate.

You glance up at him, finding his gaze already on you. His big blue eyes are unreadable, but you catch the slight quirk of his lips—the rare kind, the one that means he’s up to something.

“You’re staring,” you tease, nudging him playfully.

“You’re worth staring at,” he says simply, like it’s a fact, like it’s as natural as breathing.

You roll your eyes, but your stomach still flutters. Even after all this time, he gets to you so easily.

“So,” you clear your throat, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck, “why a library date?”

Xavier’s grip on your hand tightens slightly as he tugs you further inside, leading you between the towering bookshelves. “We haven’t spent much time together lately,” he says, voice calm but certain. “I figured this would be quiet. Just us.”

You soften at his words. He’s always like this—aloof on the surface, but his love sneaks up on you in quiet, thoughtful ways.

“Alright,” you hum, stopping in an aisle filled with well-worn classics. “How are we doing this?”

He tilts his head slightly, strands of hair falling over his forehead. “We pick books for each other,” he says, reaching for a worn, leather-bound book. “One that reminds us of the other.”

You raise a brow. “That’s dangerous territory, Xavier. What if I give you something ridiculous?”

His lips twitch. “Then I’ll read it. No complaints.”

Your smirk widens. “Even if it’s a trashy romance?”

His eyes flicker with amusement. “Especially then.”

You hum in approval before slipping away to find his book, scanning the shelves as he does the same. When you return, you place your choice in his hands: a poetry book filled with love letters written in secret.

Xavier glances at the title, then at you. “Subtle.”

You shrug, feigning innocence. “I just think you’d like it.”

His gaze lingers for a second too long before he hands you his choice: a novel about a sharp-tongued heroine who drives the stoic hero absolutely insane.

You snort, flipping through the pages. “Oh, this is on purpose.”

His smirk is barely there, but you see it. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Shaking your head, you both settle into a cozy corner of the library, sinking into the soft cushions. It’s comfortable—him next to you, the quiet rustling of pages, the occasional shared glance when one of you reads something interesting.

Then, after a few minutes, Xavier pulls something from his pocket—a small stack of sticky notes.

You raise a brow. “Planning to vandalize the library?”

“Not vandalizing,” he corrects smoothly, peeling one off and scribbling something down. “Leaving something behind.”

He sticks the note inside a random book before handing you the pad. “Your turn.”

You open the book he left his note in, curiosity getting the best of you.

“If you’re reading this, I hope you find what you’re looking for. -X”

You press your lips together, trying to suppress a smile. Typical Xavier—cool, distant, but just poetic enough to make your heart ache.

Shaking your head, you write your own note and tuck it into another book.

“Love is like a good book—you never know how much it’ll change you until you’re deep in it. -X’s annoyed girlfriend”

Xavier peeks at it, then exhales a quiet chuckle. “Annoyed?”

You smirk. “Obviously.”

His fingers brush against yours as he takes the sticky notes from your hand, his touch lingering longer than necessary. Then, in a single fluid movement, he leans in, lips ghosting against your ear.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he murmurs, his voice quiet, just for you.

You exhale, tilting your head slightly to meet his eyes. Even in the silence of the library, Xavier always finds a way to make you feel like you’re the only thing that matters.

You glance at the books surrounding you, the little notes left behind for strangers to find, the weight of his arm resting against yours.

“I think,” you say softly, “this might be my new favorite kind of date.”

Xavier just smiles, turning back to his book. But his fingers never let go of yours.

[berryz-writes]

Blue

Azriel x reader

Summary: There's a large contrast between the warm and gentle Az you get to enjoy versus the cold and quiet demeanour he reserves for others

Note: FIRST FULL WEEK I HAVE THINGS PLANNED OUT FOR. this isn't entirely my favourite but fuck it we ball <33 enjoy lovelies

@azrielappreciationweek day 1

The kitchen is a warm, flour-dusted haven, filled with the sweet scent of sugar and vanilla as Azriel leans over my shoulder, watching me whisk the batter with an amused glint in his eyes.

“You know,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my neck, “you could just let me do that.” He slips his arms around my waist, pulling me gently against him. “Your hands might get tired.”

I laugh, nudging him with my elbow. “I think I can handle a little whisking.” I turn to face him, catching the soft, rare smile that lights his face, the one that only appears when it’s just us. I lean up, brushing a light kiss to his lips, and feel him pull me closer, his fingers resting at the small of my back.

“Hmm,” he hums, deep and quiet, his lips lingering just a moment longer. “You taste like sugar.”

“You’re distracting me,” I say, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

“Good,” he replies, his voice low. His gaze drops to the cupcakes cooling on the counter, and he raises an eyebrow. “They’re missing something.”

“Exactly,” I sigh, surveying the icing jars and realizing I’ve run out of the last colour I need. I hesitate, glancing at him, knowing he’s had a long week of missions and should probably be resting. But he just tilts his head, a patient smile on his face, like he already knows what I’m about to ask.

“Could you pick up more icing for me?” I ask, brushing a bit of flour off his cheek, unable to hide my smile. “Please?”

He chuckles softly, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “Anything for you.” There’s a gentle warmth in his eyes, a soft devotion that melts me from the inside out.

As he steps back, he squeezes my hand. “Save a few for me?”

“All of them,” I reply with a grin, watching as he heads to the door, wings stretching wide in the golden afternoon light. He gives me one last look before taking off, a dark silhouette against the sky.

Azriel's POV

Flying over the city, my mind lingers on her, the soft warmth of her laugh, the way her eyes light up when I walk into the room. She’s goddess incarnate, far too perfect for me.

The cold air rushes past as I fly, enjoying the time to stretch out my wings to their fullest.

But halfway through my journey, I feel Rhysand’s voice slip into my thoughts, quiet and laced with urgency.

Azriel, we have a guest in the dungeons. I need answers from him if you're available, it's urgent

I think about his words. Maybe if it had been a few months ago Rhys wouldn't have added the part of me being "available" knowing I was waiting at the chance to distract my mind. But ever since y/n walked into my life it was getting easier and easier to spend days doing nothing except enjoy her company. No torture sessions. No constant dagger sharpening. Just time spent with her.

Fine.

Was the simple reply I gave. It would only take a few minutes of my time.

The warmth I felt just minutes ago fades as I turn, heading down toward the underground jail, where shadows and silence reign. My shadows coil tighter around me, sharper, attuned to the work at hand as I descend into the dim halls of the dungeon.

The heavy door creaks open, and I step inside to find the prisoner chained to a chair, his gaze faltering as he meets mine. He tries to summon some defiance, but I can see the fear flicker beneath it, his breaths shallow as my shadows drift closer, surrounding him in darkness. This won’t take long.

I approach him slowly, letting each step echo off the stone walls. Leaning forward, I let my voice drop to a low, controlled murmur, knowing how much more effective a whisper can be. “Let's make this quick. Tell me everything you know"

I didn't have to elaborate on what I meant by everything. He knew what I was here for and I would get it one way or another.

He’s silent at first, eyes darting, and I can see him calculating his options. But there’s no fight in him, not against what he senses I’m capable of. My shadows close in, tightening like a noose around him, each word I speak dripping with cold intent.

After a slow drag of my dagger down the column of his neck the information begins to spill out, fast and frantic. I listen carefully, never blinking, absorbing each detail.

No need for lost blood; I extract every piece with surgical precision, each question laced with the promise of what could happen if he resists. Soon, he’s left shuddering, broken, and silent.

I silently thank the cauldron he didn't make this difficult otherwise I would have to clean up before getting to my wife and the thought of keeping her waiting was not something I enjoyed.

Before I leave, I pause, tilting my head as I look down at him with one last, almost casual question. “Pick a colour.”

His face twists in confusion, fear giving way to bewilderment. “Uh… blue,” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

I give him a curt nod, acknowledging his choice before I turn and leave him to the shadows that linger. As I step into the fresh air aboveground, I make my way to a small shop, selecting a container of bright blue icing, a flash of colour that feels strange against the cold efficiency of what I’ve just done.

When I arrive home, I find her at the counter, surrounded by stacks of sweet heaven. She lights up as she sees me, her eyes crinkling with happiness. "Az! Thank you my love" she says, taking the container and pressing a warm kiss to my cheek.

I'd be lying if i said I didn't melt.

But then she pauses, glancing at me, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. “What took so long?”

I shake my head, not wanting her to worry “You don’t need to worry” I murmur, my voice gentle. “Rhys just needed something done”

She watches me closely, as if weighing my words, a knowing look in her eyes. But she doesn’t press. Instead, she smiles softly, letting her fingers brush over mine as she returns to her cupcakes.

I linger there, watching her work, feeling the lightness return to my chest as I settle back into the life we share. She doesn’t push, and I’m grateful.

With her I feel like life is worth living.

note: should have azriel year tbh

[softshuji]

𝟐𝟐:𝟓𝟎𝐏𝐌 - 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐔

Title: Say Yes

Summary: The first time Rindou asks you on a date, you reject him, thinking he's going to break your heart. Lucky for you, he's willing to prove why you should say yes to him.

cw: fem!reader, some mentions of insecurities, Rin calls you princess, Ran makes an appearance. But that's it! Reblogs appreciated!

You think it’s a joke the first time Haitani Rindou asks you on a date. He’s a Haitani after all, and you’re under no illusions about what that means for you and all the ways he could hurt you if you let him. Creative ways, that you’re convinced you could never recover from in the near future, the pieces of yourself you would spend years putting back together.

So you don’t. You walk away, reject him politely with a smile and an incline of your head, and you can almost imagine that he has a girl lined up the next day to ask as a quick replacement of you because He’s a Haitani after all, and he has a reputation that means more than either of your hurt feelings.

Rindou pretends he isn’t crestfallen, the drop of his small and placid smile that does little to hide the avid redness of his cheeks is all too apparent when you purse your lips. His eyebrows shoot up and he coughs, or rather pretends to, into his hand and steps back, the heat on his neck crawling along the slope of his back.

‘You’re….. You’re saying no?’ He asks, as if he doesn’t quite get it, because he hasn’t prepared for this eventuality, for going home to Ran to break the news, as if he’s a schoolboy with a crush, dragging his feet with dejection.

‘I am, I’m sorry Rin.’ A shake of your head, a feeling of deep nausea and a regret that holds the weight of years of friendship, now potentially wasted. 

‘Oh.’ He kicks at the gravel, the blue silk of his hair falling in waves over the smooth arc of his forehead, and you resist the urge at a time like this, to sweep it back. ‘Can I ask why?’

No, you want to say, the word caught on the wind whipping through your hair. It’ll only make it harder. Harder to look forward, harder to resist, harder to keep at your word. 

‘You’re Rindou Haitani.’ As if it’s an explanation in itself, as if it assuages the guilt and the longing and gets the point across, that he could never not hurt you in any way you could recover from. ‘I don’t think you’d be happy with me.’

You think it’s easier to lie, to pretend that the burden that comes from knowing you is too much for any one person to bear, especially when that person is your best friend, instead of the fact that the uncertainty of his life is too much for you in turn. That there could be a day far or perhaps not so far, into the future where the uncertainty becomes the certainty of his death, where he does not come back at all.

‘You don’t know that,’ he says, fierce determination blazing in his eyes, the slight tremor of his voice. He thinks he could be happy with you, or content at the very least. Maybe you could watch as he climbed to the top with Ran, the Doll at his side, his partner in all things. He’s convinced he has it all planned out perfectly, the house, the marriage, the kids you’ll have, even what colour you’ll paint the walls, because despite himself, Haitani Rindou is meticulous in all things concerning you.

You tilt your head to the side, a knowing smile playing on your lips that you hope hides how much it pains you to break him like this, to break yourself along with him, cracks in the eggshell of your friendship you hope can be repaired in time. ‘I do Rin. You’re a Haitani, you’re used to the life.’

He knows it’s an explanation and he doesn’t begrudge you for it, for the way you step back and keep your distance, your bottom lip pulled back as you bite it nervously, a hand playing with the ends of your hair as he knows you’re prone to doing. He wants to be angry, wants to rage at you, throw all the excuses he thinks will suffice for coming to terms with the rejection, vitriol and jealousy and bitterness all curling together on his tongue. He swallows, the bump of his smooth throat sliding under the blue scarf that kisses at the dip of his chin and pushes it down. Down. Down. Tucks it safely in the pit of his stomach where it can ruminate till he’s let off the steam that prickling at the skin on his neck.

‘I see.’ He pulls back the flowers, scrunching the plastic wrapping in his white knuckles behind his back, the burn of shame and regret licking at his cheeks, hot enough to instantly melt the snow that sits on the cut of his cheekbones. ‘Can we still be friends?’ 

It aches somewhere, when you swallow against the tide of anxiety in your chest, a vice that clamps down on your tongue, hot and heavy and weighted with longing. You wonder how easy it would be to let yourself be swept away by him, the beautiful fullness of his laugh, the smile that’s reserved for you, quick and easy and big, all engulfing even, to let yourself run along with him as he climbed to the top, hand in unlovable hand.

You soften, reach for him with one gloved hand, finding his fiddling with a button on his coat and brush your  thumb across his knuckles, swinging it this way and that, like you have not broken his heart, like you are nothing more than a single passing memory. ‘Of course we can. We’re best friends Rin, nothing will ever change that. If you still want me that is.’

‘I do.’ 

‘Even now?’ 

He takes your hand, as if it’s a response and knowing that despite it all, his big words, he’ll wallow in self pity, the heat of your rejection biting at his chest, he’ll come to terms with it in his own way. It is all his fault, and the wind that cuts across his cold lips seems to chant with shame at him for it, for the fickleness of his feelings, for straying far from what he knows.

But it happens. You swing back into life and the easiness of your friendship that has always permeated the comfort between you remains, albeit hardened now, by what Rindou thinks are his one-sided feelings. He remains as steadfast in his efforts as usual, propelled more so now by the fact that he feels he must win you over, to make up for the duplicity of his feelings.

You think it’s cute that he is less than subtle with his affections now that they are out in the open. The chocolates that sit at the table when you return home, a bar of chocolate orange, a note on a yellow post-it, a heart and a terribly drawn sun that tells you enough, the trinkets and gifts that are somehow discreetly placed around your apartment, necklaces here and there, earrings, new books you hadn’t spoken about to anyone that wasn’t him and it burns you with self-loathing that despite yourself, you cannot let him go without peeling yourself open at the same time.

The regret is acid pooling in your stomach.

The same regret and shame that tickles your throat when you reach for the phone at night, and your thumb finds his name with a moon and a heart, the grainy picture of him sleeping with his mouth parted, blond silken hair clinging to his forehead, to his shirt. He rolls over in bed, hears the first sniffle, cut through by a crack in the signal, and bounds from the door, keys in one hand, his jacket only half-slung, whipping in the wind as he races to your apartment.

'Princess?’ It’s uncertain, halted, hesitant even, as he slides open the bathroom door, the ends of his hair wet with rain, glasses foggy and hands clammy with the chill of the wind. 

‘Rin?’ You look up, eyes red-rimmed, the wad of wet tissue in your hands falling apart.

And Rindou knows, of course he does, what your kind of bravery looks like. You've been sitting on the floor crying, the tears fast and free flowing and salty on your cracked cheeks and he doesn't judge, he knows this is you being brave, he knows he has no right to judge what your kind of brave looks like, the way in which you piece yourself back together.

So he holds you, one hand on the small of your back, the other tucking the hair behind your ear as you hiccup and the drool slips from your dry lips. He holds you, and holds you and holds you and rocks you with his eyes fluttering shut, and perhaps your hair will get caught on the thin screws of his glasses, but you don't care right now. All that matters is that he makes you feel less pathetic, less like you're falling apart on the cold bathroom tiles of your shabby house.

‘It’s okay,’ he says and you almost believe it, almost believe he can put you back together with his lithe skilled fingers, trace the cuts along your heart with tenderness and paint them gold again. 

You love that he waits it out, waits for it to pass, the cloudy storm that ends with you on his chest, softly snoring, your tears dried on cheeks that feel taut and tightened with the line of silvery drool slipping between your parted lips, mascara tracks, that have found a home on the soft grey of his shirt. 

‘Let’s get you into bed yeah?’ He whispers to the tiles, to you now slumped against him, the creases of your pajamas pressed into his side and carries you to bed, slipping in beside you, curling your hair around his fingers, your ribs under his hands, heartbeat pulsing against his skin. He hardly blames you for it, the rejection that’s weeks in the past. Part of him almost thanks you, for protecting yourself from him, from all the danger and blood and death that comes with him. Like you said, he is used to the life. 

You love that when you wake, he is that much softer with you, a hand on your back as you pad to the bathroom, to the kitchen, the coffee hot, the croissants and pastries fresh, a wordless kiss to your temple, fresh clothes and towels, the bathroom clean of the wads of tissue that bare witness to your moments. He never mentions it, but kisses you again, just shy of your mouth, the dip of your chin soft under his lips when he sees you off for work again.

‘Be safe okay? For me?’ 

Because he knows you’re capable, knows you’re strong, knows you are his weakness in a way nothing else is, knows that if something happened to you, you’d take a bigger part of him than he could ever take of you. Or so he thinks.

‘I will. You should be safe too.’ 

Because you know he’s capable, know he’s strong, know he is your weakness in a way nothing else is, know that if something happened to him, he’d take a bigger part of you than you could ever take of him. Or so you think.

You love that he comes back, time and time again. After every fight, every argument, every word of vitriol spewed back and forth, hateful words thrown with negligence and jealousy, embittered feelings you know deep down come from love, he comes back to you.

‘Princess?’ He says, and waits on the other side of the door in the rain, the film of his glasses now foggy with condensation, ends of his hair clinging to the exposed goosebumps breaking out on his neck, the grey sweatpants now a darker shade of charcoal from where he has slugged through the storm to get to you, his first priority always.

‘What do you want?’ It comes out harsher than intended, the bite of your still-fresh and ripened anger cutting at your tone. It hurts, it always does when it comes from him, the arguments that are wrapped in love, care, the attention he could give to anyone but chooses to give to you, and the regret that boils in your stomach when you realize that fact.

‘I want us to talk.’ Proactive as ever, because the option to find solace anywhere else, with another girl even, has never occurred to him. Because he loves you, and even if the sentiment isn’t shared, he thinks he can love you enough for the both of you. 

‘I don’t want to talk to you right now.’ But you push open the door, hand him a towel, and touch his cold and pallid cheek, because the promise of seeing him, in all your pain and bitterness, hurts less than not.

‘Not an option,’ he says and holds you, cold lips that brush just shy of the hot pulsing pressure point of your neck, warmed by the constancy of you. He smells of petrol, metal, the cold chill of winter, and against what you assume is your better judgement, you find warmth in the crook of his shoulder, the warm swell of his chest and arms that instinctively come around you, pressing your hips to his.

It would be easy, to give into the thrill for a night, to let yourself forget, reach out to him and grab at the promise, however temporary, for the risk of tasting him in all the ways you’ve imagined you can. You know he tastes of strawberries, tastes of the night and the moon, sweet and dangerous and warm, familiar and mysterious at once. 

You tell yourself, you tell Ran, he is just like this, that Rindou for all his brutality, for all the rough edges sharp enough to cut, for all the barricades smoothed down by time, he is just kind, he is just loving, he is just like that.

‘I thought you’d have known him better than that by now.’ And Ran sighs in that way older siblings do, half exhausted, half fond, and all pride in his Brother. ‘Rin doesn’t do things for anyone else.’ 

It changes at some point. 

Some point when you wake before him, nestled into his side, the warm breath from his parted lips lifting the hair now pressed against the pillow, an eyelash dancing on the perfect curve of his cheek. He looks best like this. Unguarded, the frown that usually graces the slope of his forehead now smooth, the bridge of his nose rubbing at the cotton of your shared pillow, and the soft blue of his hair resting on the sharp line of his jaw. 

You press a tiny kiss to his collarbone, trapping him between your legs, his hands resting on your hips that press flush against his. 

‘Watching people sleep is creepy y’know.’ His voice is rough and broken by the sluggishness of sleep and you can hear the smirk in it, the lazy languid curve of his lips that never fails to make the heat rise to your neck. 

‘You do it all the time.’ A whisper that kisses at his clavicle, eliciting a shiver that rolls along his spine, the perfect bones and muscles flexing under your touch.

‘S’different. You’re pretty.’ 

‘So are you. Really pretty Rin.’

‘Think so?’

‘Don’t fish for compliments with me, that’s shameful.’ You jab lightly at his side, the smile threatening to break out across your lips now peaking through with full force. The sun that cuts across his cheek rests on the swell of his bare shoulder, the black ink that whirls along the flexing tendon of his arm soaking up the light. This is him, your Rindou. Soaking up the light as if it belongs to him, because it does, because everything does, because you would hand him the world if he so much as looked at it.

He laughs, a throaty chuckle that reverberates against your chest, dangerously, achingly close, a flimsy t-shirt away. ‘You’re too smart, my smartest girl.’ And buries his lips against the warm juncture of your collarbones. 

‘And Rin?’ You ignore the way your voice wavers, the way it threatens to pull you back into what you know, the safety of your enclosed familiarity, the trapped bird looking out to freedom.

‘Mhm?’ 

A beat, prolonged, heady and weighted with love, years and memories. ‘I think I’m ready.’ 

‘For?’ 

‘To say yes.’ The pressure aches in your chest, the courage is a vibrating pulse in your blood. This is it, this is the deep breath and the plunge.

It’s strangely exhilarating to let go of it, the build-up of weeks of longing, of clutching onto his stomach as you bury your face against the broad swell of his back, muttering his name in your sleep, his lips only a breath away, a singular moment of decision away.

His eyes snap open, his hands pulling back instinctively from your hips to cup at your jaw, eyes narrowed, glowing with anticipatory longing, dull with the shimmer of sleep.  ‘You mean it? That’s not a joke? If it’s a joke-’

You shake your head adamantly, his palms rough against the curl of your cheek. ‘Not a joke. I’m sorry, my indecision hurt you. I think I was afraid.’ This last part is broken, snapped into a whisper that curls along your tongue.

It had been true, it had always been true. Because he’s Haitani Rindou, and you know he could break you, snap you in half, shred the pieces of you and spit you out, that you would have to trust him not to.

‘No, no Princess, don't ever apologise for that. You really mean this though?’ Damn him for the shake of his voice, for the wobble of it as he closes the distance between you. 

‘I do.’

‘You want this? You want …me?’ He knows it’s meticulous, extreme, that he must only bridge the gap to find his answer. But he has spent so long, nights reaching through the darkness for your warmth, a hand moving across the cold bed, looking for the space where he thinks you ought to be, to not do it right this time. 

‘Yes.’ 

He deliberates, searches your eyes, for the genuineness he loves in you, for the openness, for the love he has craved and never asked for, for what you have given to someone like him so freely. 

‘Can I kiss you?’ He asks, and his thumb brushes against your lips, against the softened pout, the dip in your chin that slices the sunlight in half as it spills over his shoulder.

Your heart smashes against your ribs, knocks the air from you so completely that your pulse rings in your head. You think this is the point you take the leap, jump into the unknown, knowing you’ll be caught either way by him, knowing he will catch you every time you fall. It's conscious, a decision weeks or months in the making, a step off the edge, the wind rushing at you as you fall.

So you do it.

You say yes.

And he kisses you. And kisses you. And kisses you.

a/n happy birthday to the boy himself, sorry this is a little late I did try to be earlier i've been slumped w work and stuff but I wanted to get this one out there. a kiss for the wonderful boy

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @snakegentleman @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @ranscutedoll @qiiuusoup-xo @hoetani @sinfulseashell @burnishedcrown @nikokopuffs @mitsuwuyaa @haruwuchiyoo @mochimiyaas @bertholdts--butt @theaonlax @blackfire2013 @wotakuhime @severellamahottub @stargirlstabber @intheafterall

[obaex]

(not) my girl - rafe cameron

summary: if rafe cameron is so sure he doesn't need to be seen with you at midsummers, you are more than happy to oblige (or) the time you drove rafe insane with jealousy.

word count: 3.4k

a/n: inspired by this post by the sweet @writingsbychlo ♡

You were curled up on Rafe’s lap, head resting on his shoulder with his arms circled around you and his fingers mindlessly tracing patterns on your thigh as he talked with his friends around the firepit in his backyard.

You had been hooking up for a few months and recently you felt like you were right on the cusp of him asking you to make things official, exclusive. You were spending nearly every night together and every time he asked to talk or wanted to hang out you got your hopes up that this would be the time he brought it up, only to be crushed over and over again.

Deep down, you knew how Rafe felt. People who were ‘just hooking up’ didn’t beg you to stay every morning, didn’t make room in their dresser for you, didn’t wake you up with featherlight kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, face breaking into a ridiculous smile when your eyes fluttered open to find his drinking you in, they didn’t call you during a panic attack after fighting with their dad, pleading to hear your voice as the only thing that would calm them down. No, you were pretty sure you knew exactly how this boy felt, but you wanted him to acknowledge it. You ached to hear him say with pride ‘that’s my girl’, to mark you as his own.

Your eyes flitted across the fire to your best friend Olivia who wiggled her eyebrows at the sight of you and Rafe together, all too aware of the situationship you were in and how badly you wanted him. You blushed and rolled your eyes back at her, just trying to enjoy this small moment where he showed his affection for you in front of other people. She winked at you before interrupting the conversation.

“Sooo, who is everyone taking to Midsummers?”

You shot her a look that screamed what the hell are you doing!? You were still holding out hope that Rafe was going to ask you, even though it was less than a week away. Maybe he had an elaborate, last-minute surprise planned?

“Feel pretty good about my date” Kelce murmured, pressing a kiss to Olivia’s cheek as she giggled. “What about you Top, still intent on macking on Rafe’s sister?” he asked. Topper threw an empty beer can at him as everyone laughed.

“I don’t know why we even bother with dates” Rafe said. “We’re just gonna dick around together all night anyway, there’s no point.” He took a swig of his beer without meeting your gaze. You felt your cheeks warm in embarrassment and a painful ache in your throat as you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spring forward. You met Olivia’s gaze again and she nodded encouragingly towards Rafe.

“W-what about me, Cameron?” you asked, trying to mask your feelings, to sound chill as you poked him in the side.

He looked at you sweetly, “C’mon and say what when my dad asks about you? ‘Hey dad, here’s the girl I’ve been sneaking through the back door every night and smashing while you and Rose are three doors down? Hard pass.” He laughed, focusing back on his beer and his friends as you felt his hand slide off your leg.

You allowed yourself to be genuinely upset for three days.

You didn’t sleep at Tanneyhill for the first time in months, you didn’t even answer his texts which grew increasingly more insistent the more you ignored them. You stayed home, you cried, and you contemplated what the fuck you were doing with your life. Was that really all you were to him – just someone he was sneaking around with? Did you somehow become that girl, too naïve and too stupid to see that she wasn’t and would never be anything more than a hookup?

You thought about the way Rafe reached for you and held you in his sleep, the way his hands ghosted over your body, the things he’d whisper in your ear, the times you’d ridden shotgun in his truck or he’d taken you to his favorite spot on the beach… Your heart was so sure about him, but your head throbbed with the echo of his words.

You and Olivia talked incessantly about it, dissecting everything he’d said. “Maybe he just needs a little push, a little… motivation?” she suggested, and the more you talked about it, the more you realized she was right.

If Rafe Cameron was so sure he didn’t need to be seen with you at Midsummers, you were more than happy to oblige.

The last of the hot summer sun was settling over the ocean as you climbed the front steps of the Island Club in daring three-inch heels; the added height gave your figure a perfect sway that simply begged people to watch you as you walked by. Your dress had a thigh-high slit, open back, and was the perfect color for your skin tone, illuminating you; the neckline was devilishly tantalizing, giving the desired effect of drawing all eyes to the dazzling diamond pendant that reflected the setting sun.

Rafe heard you before he saw you; rather, he heard a sea of murmurs rippling through the crowd which drew his attention to the doors just as you walked through by yourself, essentially announcing to the island that you were alone for the night.

“Geezus” he heard Topper mutter under his breath as he took you in. Normally, he would have known better and normally Rafe would have put his head through a wall for glaring at you the way he was, but even though his fists clenched in response and he wanted to turn and say something to him, he simply couldn’t take his eyes off of you; “Geezus” didn’t even begin to cover it.

You were always undeniably beautiful to Rafe: when you wore his oversized sweatshirt around the fire pit, when you were makeup-less in your wet bikini at the beach, and especially when you were wearing next to nothing tangled up in his limbs and his soft sheets, but the dress you had on, the way your hair shone in the last rays of the sun, the way you were positively radiating had his pulse throbbing in his neck, his adam’s apple bobbing and his palms sweating. Fuck, I am so happy she’s mine he thought to himself, smiling and moving to walk towards you as your eyes met his across the crowd.

You were glowing at him and sent him a discreet smile as you greeted people and made your way in his direction. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on you, to have you at his side so everyone knew you were his. You approached your friends, dropping a kiss on Topper and Kelce’s cheeks before doing the same to Rafe. You made to move past him quickly, intent on talking to Olivia when he grabbed your hand.

“Hey, hold up you-you look…” he started to say, trying and struggling to find the words to capture the way his heart was pounding in his chest.

Your wide eyes met his expectantly and just when he opened his mouth to speak, they flitted over his shoulder.

“Oh! Sorry, Rafey! Just saw someone I want to catch up with, I’ll see you later” and without another word you walked away, leaving Rafe Cameron, the King of Kildare staring and stuttering after you.

You were walking away from him? he thought. You had seemed so adamant about this whole Midsummers thing, dropping hints about going together and now here he was, practically ready to get down on one knee at the sight of you, and you were walking away from him? He was speechless. He turned to watch you go… right into the arms of another man. He looked to be about your age, the same height and a similar build as Rafe, because of course Rafe was sizing him up, how could he not? This guy had his paws all over his girl. And then, after a moment’s realization, he thought darkly, she’s not your girl…

You had greeted this guy with a huge hug, and he’d nearly lifted you off the ground, now he had your full attention and you were laughing at something he said, the most sweet and perfect sound that Rafe wanted only for himself.

As everyone took their seat for dinner, you intentionally positioned yourself across the table from Rafe. The slight of not sitting next to him where he could run his fingers up your thigh or tangle them in your own left him fidgeting instead, buttoning and unbuttoning his jacket and swirling his drink. What the fuck did I used to do with my hands? he thought angrily.

You paid him no mind, instead, leaning forward on your elbows and toying with the diamond pendant around your neck, fingering it, twirling it and sliding it back and forth on its chain.

“Holy DIAMOND, girl!” Olivia said as she took note of your necklace and leaned over to get a closer look. “Is it new, where is it from?” her eyes shot from you to Rafe and back again.

He glared at you both over the rim of his glass as he took a deep gulp, trying to act unphased but also extremely curious to hear your answer knowing damn well it wasn’t from him.

Your eyes flitted to Rafe briefly before you leaned towards Olivia, lowering your voice, but not so low that he couldn’t hear you. “It was… a gift from… someone special” you said winking conspiratorially at her.

Rafe choked on his drink just as someone was standing up at the front of the crowd to make a speech, shifting everyone’s attention and interrupting the slew of words that nearly poured out of his mouth.

Who the fuck on Kildare fucking Island was buying his girl jewelry? he thought. And then, again, he reminded himself, she’s not your girl… the thought making his whole body tense, rigid and taught in anger and frustration.

For the next 20 minutes, all he could do was stare at you as you twiddled that ridiculous necklace in your fingers, imagining what it would be like to rip it off of you and replace it with something twice as nice. He was mentally calculating how much he would spend and how quickly he could get it when JJ Maybank passed by their table. Rafe had a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue until he watched JJ do a double take at you and stop in his tracks.

Don’t do it, Maybank, Rafe thought. Don’t you dare do it.

He watched JJ eye you and the distance between you and Rafe and, deeming it safe, peddled back, pulling a glass of champagne off his tray and handing it to you with a flourish. He knelt down next to your seat and when you turned to talk to him, it left JJ perfectly eye level with your cleavage. He was whispering something to you and you rested your hand on his bicep as you leaned forward to hear him. Rafe could see you blushing, and he watched Maybank take in every greedy eyeful of you. Rafe stood up so abruptly, it knocked his chair over and rattled the plates on the table. Everyone looked up at him, including you, and for the first time that night he had your full attention as your eyes widened at his reaction.

“YN, inside, let’s go” he said simply, walking to your side of the table.

You raised an eyebrow at him and his demanding tone.

“And Maybank if you don’t stop staring at her tits, I will put your face through this table.”

JJ quickly stood up and backed away with his hands raised in surrender as Rafe approached you.

“Rafe we were just—” you started.

“— Inside. Now” he said, taking you forcefully by the arm and leading you inside and into the locker room.

“Rafe! Come on! Stop it! I want to spend the night with my friends, I don’t know what you possibly have to be mad at” you said in resistance.

And that was the very last straw for him.

“WHAT I HAVE TO BE MAD AT?!” he said, incredulous, nearly shouting. “Where do I even begin with you!? You blow me off all week, then you waltz in here looking like an absolute bombshell, wearing next to nothing – I swear to God, I’ve seen you in bikinis with more material - every guy here is leering at you. Then you’re talking to that jackass who had his hands all over you…” he said, exasperated.

At this point he was pacing, his voice continuing to rise in anger and frustration. “…And then Maybank?! Maybank of all people?! He was flirting with you right in front of me. Was it to make me jealous? Is that what this is all about? Because I’m about to lose my fucking mind YN” he said running his hands through his hair, giving you sick pleasure knowing it took him probably an hour to style it. A surprised if not amused look rested on your face as you continued to twirl your necklace in your fingers.

“And who the fuck gave you that” he pointed accusingly at the diamond in your hand, not giving you a single second to respond, “No. Absolutely not. Take it off. Right now” he said, walking briskly towards you in an effort to do it himself.

You held out a hand to stop him.

“I don’t know what the big deal is Rafe” you said innocently. “What difference does it make? I’m just the girl you’re sneaking through your back door every night to smash” you shrugged, your eyes burning at him.

His eyes widened as he heard his own words on your lips.

“No, that’s – that’s not – I didn’t mean” he stuttered.

You gave him a vicious look as you watched the gears turn in his head and he tried to string a sentence together.

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that – I shouldn’t have – what I meant was – ahh, fuck it” he said, taking a step forward and closing the distance between you in an instant, one hand holding your face firmly as he pushed you against the lockers and the other coming to rest on the wall beside you, caging you in against him as he pressed his lips bruisingly to yours, devouring you, just like he’d wanted to do all night.

You wanted to stay strong, to argue, to tell him he wasn’t going to win you over like this. But he was. He so so was as he deepened the kiss almost instantly and the pad of his thumb ran across your cheek sending a shiver through your body. When he finally felt you relent and kiss him back, winding your arms around his neck and pulling yourself flush to him he let out a small groan that almost made you forget the whole point of tonight. Almost.

You pulled back, leaving not even an inch between you. The feeling of you kissing him had calmed him down significantly. His breathing had slowed but his cheeks were still flushed and his hair was mussed. He lingered there, his nose brushing yours as he stroked your cheek.

“You’re my girl” he whispered finally.

“Are you asking or telling?” you whispered back.

“Do I really need to ask, princess?” he said, meeting your gaze with his own.

You raised an eyebrow at him threateningly.

He rolled his eyes and said in a sigh, “Be mine?”

You bit your bottom lip and pretended to think about it. “Gosh, I don’t know” you said, pressing a slow kiss to his lips “M’might have to think about it” you said, pressing another kiss there, lingering longer “Mm’might need some convincing” you said, kissing him again and running your hands up his chest.

His voice was low but steady, “I will take you home right now and convince you as many times as you need me to” he said, kissing you back through a smile.

“Deal” you replied sweetly.

You moved to leave but he didn’t let you go and when you met his gaze, his brow was furrowed, his eyes searching yours. “I am serious though, about this, about you” he said. “I’m sorry I fucked up.” He looked uncharacteristically bashful, unsure even. “Really, are you mine?” he whispered.

“Yes, Rafe,” you said as your heart fluttered in your chest “All yours.”

He smiled stupidly, so far gone for you as he kissed you again. You were completely lost in the moment until he muttered against you, “Then please for the love of God will you take that necklace off and tell me who in the hell thought they could buy you something like that?”

You met his eyes strongly, the last embers of your pain crackling there.

“No” you said simply, continuing quickly when he tried to interrupt you. “I’m going to keep it and wear it whenever I damn well please to remind you of what you have and what you sure as hell want don’t want to lose.”

He looked genuinely shocked to hear you challenge him like that and you could see a tic in his jaw as he worked it back and forth in anger.

“I… hate that” he growled. “What if I buy you something nicer?”

You shrugged noncommittally and he shook his head at you. “Fine, let’s get out of here, that dress is killing me and I have a lot of convincing I want to do to you right now.” You giggled as he grabbed your hand and led you back outside, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

When you rejoined the party there were a few murmurs and glances as you hung off his arm. Were you imagining it, or was he taking the long way back to your table, intentionally parading you around the patio and staring daggers at anyone whose gaze lingered too long? Being seen together at Midsummers was basically shouting from the rooftops that you were official. You were glowing, he was too. You said goodbye to your friends and within minutes you were in his truck headed back to Tanneyhill, his hand rubbing circles higher and higher on your thigh, your fingers in his hair.

He threw the car in park and scooped you over his shoulder, carrying you all the way upstairs like that, which had you shrieking in delight. He didn’t set you down until you were in his room and he kissed you feverishly, his hands cupping your face, before his fingers traced your neck, nearing your necklace.

“Rafe” you muttered against his lips, a warning.

“Just tell me who” he muttered back, unable to let it go and kissing you deeper in the hopes of convincing you. “I’m already gonna to buy you a new one, you’ll never wear this again, but I need to know. Can’t stop thinking about someone else with their hands on you” he said as he guided you backwards towards his bed, pushing you gently onto his comforter and crawling on top of you.

“I don’t like it. I do not fucking like it” he growled against your lips. Under his anger, you detected a hint of vulnerability and you broke your kiss just long enough to look into his eyes, which gazed longingly at you as they searched your face. Perhaps you had tortured this poor boy enough.

You sighed, relenting.

“Olivia” you said.

He looked at you, completely confused for only a moment before the realization dawned on his face and he hung his head.

“There isn’t anyone else” he said in equal parts relief, frustration and embarrassment.

You shook your head at him.

“God I’m so fucking stupid” he said.

You giggled before reaching behind your neck to unclasp the necklace and toss it on his bedside table.

He looked at you with heat and tenderness, “I’m sorry that’s what it took for me to get my shit together. I wish it all happened differently, but I don’t regret it. You’re it for me, YN, no one else.”

He placed a kiss beneath your ear, to your throat, to your bare collarbone. “My girl” he whispered against your skin, enjoying how it felt on his tongue and the sound of your sweet laughter in response.

taglist: @ietss, @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @diary-of-jj, @crlsummer, @jjsbank444

[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.