#and it just fucking hurts so much and it's just my own damn fault and I don't know how to fix it.

[lucyvaleheart]

.

[ahalliance]

i need to do exposure therapy with purgatory i think the fandom experience at the time instilled the unpleasant dread and despair i still feel whenever i think about the event

[stereax]

saw you post 'listen before you go', thought you'd enjoy this:

oh...

[asyipyip]

hold on everyone shut up im getting super emotional about jonathan sims

[lokissweater]

Hi!!! Hope your doing wonderfully 🫶I absolutely adore your work! And this is the first time in asking anything, but if you haven't yet can you do a shy guys x popular reader with a lil spice but no smut! I'd appreciate it 🥹 have a lovely day or night 🩷

YUUUMMYYY oh my goodness i spiced but i think i spiced too much and if i did i am SO SORRY IM JUST A FREAK!!! but i hope you enjoy this piece and thank you so much for sending in a request!! MWAHH <33

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∘˙○˚.• DON’T BE SHY ∘˙○˚.•

{pairings (separate): shy satoru gojo, megumi fushiguro, & yuji itadori x popular f!reader}

summary: how the boys are pathetically down bad for favorable you <3

warnings: college!au, mentions of drinking, HELLAAA sexual mentions and theming mdni, no smut but girl damn near it, pining af, cursing, aged up characters, afab!reader, pet names, they want you BAD in each of their stories HEHEHE, mentions of alcohol.

word count: 5.3k

authors note: WHO WANTS MLB!MEGUMI BC I SURE FUCKING DO!! HES COMING NEXT MY LOVES but here’s a little something to keep you fed in the meantime <33 I HOPE YOU GUYS LOVE IT! ILY!

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∘˙○˚. SATORU GOJO ∘˙○˚.

satoru wasn’t by any means a loner in college.

he had his own cute little group of friends and his own cute little outings and his own cute little interactions with his classmates, his rank on the popularity scale running somewhere around the middle (something he can thank his gorgeous eyes and gorgeous face for), but never even coming close to where you were at, a place many tried to reach but never had the qualities that you did— your place being at the top.

but satoru was too shy for his own good. too timid as he watched your breathtaking magnificent self walk down the halls and right by him in between classes— surrounded by people, you barely even noticing him, but him already memorizing the exact scent of your perfume you chose to wear that day, watching with love struck eyes and sweaty palms as his sickingly sweet obsession over you only grew by the years.

you were an absolute goddess in his eyes. you could never hurt him or be mean to him even if you tried, and it was a little pathetic how much he liked you— his little boyish crush that only shrunk him down to the mere size of a lady bug, his increased bashfulness when you’re around only doing him more harm than good as it started to affect his studies and sleep schedule.

but that wasn’t your fault, oh absolutely not.

it was his. all his. he wanted to take the blame for everything. he doesn’t care what.

even when you accidentally bumped into him at a party one night because you were a little tipsy, him stumbling over and you apologizing profusely as his heart stopped upon realizing it was you. and even when you accidentally dropped your red solo cup on his favorite blue washed jeans later on, your alcoholic beverage leaving a patch of wet on his thigh that made you apologize profusely to him again, satoru shaking his head and telling you repeatedly that it was his fault. he was in your way. he should be sorry.

you could dump an entire twenty five ounce bottle of smirnoff on his head and he’d still tell you he was to blame. that’s how much he liked you.

so as you gently took his hand and tugged him to stand up, you leading him through the crowd, your fingers interlaced with his? satoru went into a fucking frenzy.

his cheeks burned as you led him up the stairs and to the nearest bathroom, your lovely skin tight dress squeezing and hugging you in every right way in front of him that he internally panicked as he felt his dick stretch against his jeans, him wanting to end it all as he hoped you didn’t notice it and think he was a pervert.

“oh my god i’m so sorry—” you pulled him in and shut the door behind you, silencing what seemed like twenty different people calling out to you, for your attention, satoru swooning over the way you paid them no mind in return and focused entirely on him.

he felt so lucky.

he awkwardly sat himself at the edge of the tub as you crouched down and rummaged through the cupboard below the sink, your lips in a cute pout.

“i always get so stupid when i’m buzzed and i totally didn’t see you when i was walking…”

your tone was whiny and apologetic, and satoru’s heart physically could not take it.

“it’s— it’s okay..” he mumbled shyly, cheeks pink. “it was me i—” he averted his gaze once you turned to look at him. “i wasn’t paying attention…”

“but are you okay though?” your voice was immensely sweet and doting, it almost sounding like you were babying him as you walked over to him with a damp hand towel.

and he was all fucking over it.

he stiffly nodded and looked down at his lap, throat closing.

“i put a stain remover on this so i at least don’t leave a red mark on your jeans!” you smiled, an enchanting one at that as your clear lip gloss glistened under the dim light. “and i’m really sorry again! i hope i didn’t ruin the party for you…”

his eyes shot up and he shook his head frantically. “n—no! you didn’t it’s okay!” he tugged at the collar of his button up, feeling a little hot. “y—you did nothing wrong...”

you gleamed, and as satoru reached a trembling hand up for the towel to clean himself off, you pulled it back with a cute shake of your head.

“i’m doing it, silly! i’m the one who spilled it.”

“but!—”

you got down on your knees in front of him and his hands literally slapped over the edges of the tub as he gripped it tightly, his knuckles turning pure white as you calmly spread his legs and inserted yourself in between, your face fucking hovering over his dick and his cheeks turning even pinker as lewd thoughts dashed across his sick mind.

you noticed the look on his face and laughed.

“are you nervous? don’t be! i’m just gonna clean you up and ill be out of your way love.”

satoru didn’t want you out of his way, not ever. and the way you called him love had him already picturing you in a pretty white dress with a veil walking down the aisle to him.

he swallowed.

you had your arms resting over his thighs for support as you rubbed a circular tugging motion over the spot on his jeans, your eyebrows pinched in concentration as you tried to get the red stain out, your soft hair slipping from your shoulders and landing over his lap with satoru’s fingers itching to touch it.

“at the last party i threw, i also spilled a drink on a guy.” you giggled.

he felt a twinge of bubbling jealousy.

“did you—” he nervously looked at you. “did you also… help him?”

you smiled cutely. “nope! because he was making out with someone in the middle of my kitchen and he was in my way.”

thank god.

you huffed and leaned back to sit on your calves. “like— have some decency. i get you want to have a little kiss but if you’re doing it right where the vodka mix is? blocking it? i’m not helping you. your girl can help you.”

satoru giggled a little, and you folded the towel neatly and settled it beside you, proud of your work at removing the stain from his pants as you set your hands on your hips.

“and what about you?”

“me?” he mumbled.

“mhm!” you raised a silly brow and leaned closer to him, satoru inching backwards nervously at the proximity. “have you ever made out with someone like that?”

“well— well—”

satoru’s never kissed anyone.

“well what?”

he ran a slow embarrassed hand through his fluffy white hair and grimaced.

satoru is timid, shy, friendly, and a dork. but one thing he isn’t? is a liar. especially if it was you— even though all he wanted to do in life was impress you and have you not think he was a fucking loser.

“i’ve never uh—” he struggled. “kissed… someone.”

his words were so quiet and mumbly, completely ashamed of himself as his cheeks continued to glow pink.

but your eyes widened.

“what? you’ve never kissed anyone?”

he shook his head, eyes to his lap.

“but you’re so hot?”

satoru shot up. “h—huh?”

“yeah!” you grinned. “you are! have you ever had a girlfriend?”

he shook his head again.

“what?! how?!”

you placed a shocked hand over your mouth, your voice soft and astonished. “what a crime…”

he smiled shyly at your compliments, reduced to absolute putty in your hands at the moment as he couldn’t believe you thought he was even remotely attractive.

you confidently swung your arms up and threw them around his neck, and he froze.

your eyes were really suggestive, your gorgeous face looking up at him and his wide eyes looking down at you, your fingers gently running across the back of his neck and hair as he almost whimpered at what you were doing.

“wanna kiss me?”

“y-you?” he choked out, and you giggled softly.

“uh huh! o—only if you’re okay with it—” you pulled away a little, shoulders deflating. “i just figured—”

satoru noticed the way you started to lean back, your arms slipping from around his shoulders and his hands shot out then— grabbing your wrists as he pulled you back in and settled them around him.

was this real? actually? or was he just really drunk?

“yes!” he settled down a bit, sheepish. “yes i—i’m okay with it.”

you took in his eager bashful expression, and grinned.

“okay!”

you leaned and kissed his soft lips, pulling satoru in as his fingers shakily snaked over your waist and around you, not believing for a second that he was actually kissing you.

and you moved your lips slowly and delicately over his, trying to pry his mouth open more with your tongue and guide him on how to kiss you back, him diverting all of his focus to that as he tried to mimic your movements.

it started with innocent pecks at first, you trying to ease him into it and not make it overwhelming for him as you carefully amped up the difficulty little by little.

and he got the hang of it, fast, and you squeaked a noise of surprise when he suddenly shoved his long tongue in your mouth and slid his hands further down to your ass, squeezing as if he had every right to, completely forgetting that he technically didn’t.

what a greedy little thing… but you loved it.

he instantly pulled back.

“sorry i’m sorry!” he sputtered, pulling his hands to his chest like he’d just touched something scalding hot. “i don’t know why i—”

you giggled. “it’s okay! i liked it.”

“y—you did?”

“uh huh!” you nodded, leaning in seductively. “maybe you should do it again… and maybe underneath my dress, to get a better feel y’know?”

satoru couldn’t even respond as you latched your lips back on his, and he kissed you back desperately, wanting to impress you and do good for you so he could properly earn the right to feel you up like you had requested.

but he got greedier, and his hands were back on your ass squeezing and palming the fat of it, breathing heavily through his nose as he started to tug your dress up a little to feel your skin, the lace of your panties grazing his fingertips and making him fucking light headed.

his body was literally numb as you pulled apart suddenly, both of your lips swollen and red.

“wanna go to my room?”

∘˙○˚. MEGUMI FUSHIGURO ∘˙○˚.

“if i can’t do it i’m turning the car around.”

“megs you cannot do that when we get there though!”

megumi shook his head. “and why not?”

“because you’ll scare every one away! what the hell is ‘with this treasure i summon—‘“

“yeah so that way everyone will think i’m a freak and leave me the fuck alone!”

you and megumi have been best friends since middle school, carbon copies of tweedle dee and tweedle dum as your personalities matched with each other’s so identically yet so differently at the same time, that you both bickered every waking second you were together.

which was all of the time.

though you had a better reputation than megumi did. you were popular, beautiful, and everyone wanted to get to know you as your unique personality struck joyous chords with anyone that was lucky enough to come across and get to know you.

all things megumi would never admit out loud to your face.

and he was just regular— popularity and social statuses something he didn’t give a shit about as he kept to himself and didn’t speak to a single soul unless it was yours.

“but i thought you said you wanted to come with me!” you whined.

megumi huffed and made a sharp turn as he drove. “you dragged me i told you no i don’t like parties and you started crying—”

“okay and?” you grumbled. “what so now i can’t cry in front of you? i can’t show my emotions and use my right of freedom of speech?—”

“oh my god.” he dragged an exasperated hand down his cheek. “you’re putting words into my mouth—”

“and you’re putting knives into my heart with how much you hate me.”

he parked on the side of the street and turned off the ignition, hooking his keys on one of his belt loops before he gave you an annoyed look.

“am i not in the car.”

“you are.”

“and am i not here at this party with you.”

“you are.”

“so what more do you want.”

“a kiss.”

“fuck off—” megumi pressed his hand flat on the side of your head and nudged you away before stepping out of the car with pink cheeks, your laughter ringing through the air as you shut the door and ran to catch up with him.

“just be nice please. my friends sometimes wanna talk to you and you look like you’re plotting.”

“maybe it’s because i don’t wanna talk to them.” he mumbled.

through his hard exterior, you knew megumi was just shy, and often times had difficulty talking to people or expressing himself— you really being the only exception in his life.

that’s why in every social situation that you dragged him to, he clung to you like sticky stubborn gum and never left your side— you of course not minding at all and it actually making you feel better to have him always there, your thing being interlocked pinkies as you navigated.

“no it’s because you’re shy and that’s okay!—”

megumi scoffed and kept walking, but the minute you both walked across the lawn and up the steps of the porch, he turned around and let you in front of him— his pinky out like usual.

you smiled softly to yourself and looped yours with his, pinkies closing like a lock before you pulled him inside.

it was dark and humid as fuck already, and you tried your best to politely push through the crowd of hammered and sweaty people in search for the kitchen, you not realizing how megumi literally pushed and shoved people behind you so they wouldn’t topple you over, them too inebriated to care.

“y/n!”

“hi guys!” you gushed, your crowd of friends beaming at the sight of you and handing you drinks without you even having to ask, you passing one back to megumi smoothly.

you both mostly spent the night mingling and drinking with your friends, playing little games and giggling quietly whenever someone would ask megumi a question and he would just stammer in response, blushing and grumpy at your teasing once he got the interaction over with.

and at some point, half of your friends had gone to the main area to dance, and you turned to him.

“megs.”

“yes.”

“do you wanna dance with me?”

“fuck no.”

“whyyyy!” you whined, dropping your forehead on his shoulder.

“because i don’t like dancing.”

“no one’s gonna notice anyways! it’s dark over there like completely.” you looked at him. “just come with me please.”

“no.”

“i’ll give you a kissy.”

megumi gave you a deadpanned look. “what is it with you wanting to give me a kiss?”

you ignored his comment. “i’ll do anything.”

“nope.”

“fine.” you stood up and tugged your dress down. “i’m just gonna ask some other guy and maybe when i tell him he’ll get a kiss out of it he’ll do it—”

megumi quickly grabbed your wrist, eyes narrowed.

“are you actually?”

“yes.”

his heart dropped.

“you’re gonna pimp yourself out for a dance?”

“yes! you know i love to dance—”

megumi stood and grabbed your hand, dragging you to the dance floor as you cheered and happily skipped behind him.

upon arriving, he remained stiff, bored, and fucking nervous with flushed cheeks and crossed arms while you danced, gently swaying and moving to the beat as bright neon laser lights occasionally drifted across the crowd— illuminating red cheeks and sweaty bodies.

it really was incredibly dark, and megumi could barely even see you standing in front of him as the bass of the music drummed through his body.

he let you when you reached up and uncrossed his arms— instead wrapping them around your waist as you threw your arms around his neck, him swallowing thickly.

“dance megs.” you spoke gently in his ear. “like this just sway—”

you moved your hips a little more, and though he didn’t exactly copy you, he stiffly just kind of swayed with you.

“i hate dancing.”

you laughed. “do you hate me?”

“no.”

far from it actually.

“then this should be fuunnn! just let loose a little.”

“i am letting loose.” he grumbled.

“you feel like a little stick though.”

“a stick?!”

you giggled loudly, throwing your head back as you did, the sight making megumi melt.

“yes! i’m gonna start break dancing if you don’t.”

he gave you an incredulous look. “huh? you’re not serious.”

“that i am.”

“y/n i’m moving with you i’m dancing—”

“but your arms are just around my waist! you’re not even moving with me what are you talking about?!”

“what are you talking about?!”

you huffed and stopped moving. “i’m gonna dance with someone else—”

you let go of him and turned but megumi only pulled you back.

“no you’re not and you’re not kissing them either so don’t even think about it—”

“you can’t tell me what to do—”

you pushed at his chest with both of your hands, trying to get him to let go of your waist— his strong grip not letting you.

“why are you being such a brat?!” he exclaimed.

you broke free and started walking.

“a brat that’s gonna dance with someone else!—”

megumi flew and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you back around before literally smashing his lips to yours, your eyes widening in complete shock.

there was your kiss.

he pulled away. “s—sorry i—”

you shook your head and grabbed his cheeks, bringing his lips back in to yours as they moved sloppily and fast, almost matching with the music as his arms engulfed around your waist and pulled you in.

you swiped your tongue over his and whimpered, you figuring he couldn’t hear it over the music but being dead wrong as he felt the blood rush to his dick the minute he heard it.

you pulled away. “what are— what are we doing?”

his chest heaved as he looked at you, cheeks pinky like always and eyes blown wide. “i don’t— i don’t know—”

you wiped your wet mouth with the back of your hand. “do you wanna— stop? i—”

you didn’t know why you were asking, knowing damn well you didn’t want to stop.

“fuck no.”

“okay—”

and his mouth was back on yours, kissing you and running his hands up and down over your body in absolute need, you doing the same as you ran your hands over his chest and down, down, down…

“can i—” you spoke in between kisses. “i’m gonna—”

megumi did it for you and pressed your hand flat against his groin, you palming him slowly as he took in a sharp inhale and broke from your lips, his arms coming up to wrap around your shoulders with his cheek mushed up against the side of your head, eyes screwed shut at how good it felt.

you continued to palm him through his jeans, going a little firmer when you felt his breath literally tremble in your ear as he shook.

“shit—” his arms tightened around you. “wait—” pant “i’m gonna cum in my pants if you keep—”

“do it.”

“no!” he choked and his hips pressed into your palm, wanting more. “let’s go— to the car. the car please—”

you nodded and pulled back, but stopped.

“megs if we do this we can’t go back, okay?” your chest heaved, a little fidgety. “we can’t— we can’t go back to being just friends i don’t wanna be just friends—”

he shook his head and looped his pinky with yours, leading you through the crowd and speaking over his shoulder.

“we won’t.” he started.

“i don’t wanna be just friends anymore either.”

∘˙○˚. YUJI ITADORI ∘˙○˚.

being good at math had its perks.

yuji was able to get by in every math related class, never had an issue with studying, and even tutored some of his friends and classmates as a side job to pay for his college classes and tuition.

but the minute you approached him one day— you, one of the most popular girls on campus, president of your sorority, life long crush and the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen, asking if he was able to tutor you on wednesdays?

being good at math became a blessing and a curse.

yuji thought he was well off at math… but if he was to tutor you, he wanted to be fucking albert einstein at it so he didn’t look like a fucking idiot if he happened to come across a topic he didn’t know how to teach.

and as he sat on his desk chair in his dorm, textbooks and materials laid out and ready to go as he wiped his clammy hands on his pants for the thousandth fucking time, he heard you softly knock on his door.

oh fuck.

“hi yuji!” you greeted sweetly, him smiling back at you as he stepped to the side to let you in.

“hey! were you able to find my building okay?”

you both walked over to his desk and sat down, you right next to him on an extra chair— your perfume engulfing his senses and your pretty hair over your shoulders neatly.

“oh no i was fine!” you got your little notebook out with your pencil case. “one of my friends is dorming in this building too so i knew where it was.”

he nodded happily and politely, shitting it inside but doing a damn fucking good job at not showing it— though the reddening of his cheeks was something he couldn’t control no matter how hard he tried.

since you could only see him once a week, the duration of the tutoring sessions was a lot longer than the rest of his clients, and though yuji literally offered to tutor you for free whenever you wanted, you profusely denied and mentally decided to pay him double for his kindness.

you nervously fiddled with your fingers as he opened the textbook and flipped through the chapters you needed help with, and upon noticing, he frowned.

“sorry is it hot in here? i could open—”

“no! it’s okay!” you shook your head. “sorry i just— i’m really bad at math so i’m sorry if you can’t get anything through my head…”

you giggled nervously, and yuji just about cried.

“oh! don’t worry about that! that’s why i’m here to help.”

he beamed, his smile so big and bright that you found yourself copying his exact expression.

he was so nice.

“right!”

and he did help. yuji was exceptional at teaching, and concepts you had found hard to grasp before during class by your own professor was easy peasy with him, his bubbly and animated way of teaching you something that pulled you in and kept you engaged.

after two hours of tutoring, yuji sat back on his desk chair and exhaled.

“phew, let’s take a break! is that fine?”

“mhm!” you chirped, putting your pencil down and smiling. “you’re really good at teaching yuji, like really good.”

“oh thanks!” he blushed, giving you a cute little smile. “i— i like math so i just, teach y’know..”

you nodded. “what’s your major? is it something to do with that?”

“oh no—” he shook his head. “i’m majoring in finance so i get a lot of math classes.”

“huh?!” you gasped, completely astonished. “i thought your major had something to do with teaching i’ve— i’ve never understood math before until you… you’re brilliant!”

he gulped, your praises washing over him and making him feel tingly all over.

yuji gave you a wobbly shy smile. “t—thank you y/n!”

you grinned kindly, your pretty face making him want to word vomit how gorgeous he thought you were and maybe even sort of ask you to be his wife.

“do you um— are you thirsty? i have—”

he shot up clumsily and walked over to his mini fridge. “i have water? here—”

he didn’t even let you respond as he took a bottle of cool water and handed it to you, you taking it gratefully.

“i— i also have these!”

he reached in again and gave you a little glazed donut pastry, wrapped neatly in a clear bag that had the bakery’s logo on the front.

“oh no yuji it’s okay!” your eyebrows pinched together in worry. “i don’t wanna take what’s yours just the water is fine!”

he shook his head and closed the fridge, sitting back down on the chair next to you. “it’s all good! it’s your reward for hanging on for two hours of tutoring.”

his smile was so kind and sweet, and you bit your bottom lip as you softly thanked him.

“how’s um— how’s your sorority going?” yuji asked.

“my sorority?” you tilted your head to the side. “how’d you know i’m in a sorority?”

“oh! well—” he went completely fucking pink. “s—sorry you’re kind of popular so i just heard..”

you hummed and quickly nodded. “no it’s okay! i didn’t know people were talking about me like that.”

you laughed a little, and yuji thought you were so humble.

“it’s going great! it’s really kind of you to ask.” you crossed your legs and leaned an elbow on your knee, your chin coming down to rest on the palm of your hand. “it’s a little stressful to manage but i love my girls so, they definitely make it easier.”

yuji lit up. “that’s great! i’m glad it’s going well… i— i know i don’t know much about sororities and things like that but i have no doubt in my mind that you’re the most qualified and deserving of a position like that…”

your eyes softened, and your heart literally ached in the best way over his compliment.

“thank you yuji… seriously. you’re so nice!”

you giggled, and it made him gnaw at the inside of his cheek.

the tutoring session continued after that, and just when you had reached your final hour, you slumped over his desk and groaned softly.

“i’m sorry yuji… my motivation is running out.”

he laughed softly. “it’s okay! it happens. if you want we can stop here—”

“no!” you shot up. “i have to get through it i’ll be so mad at myself if i don’t.”

he looked at you, his eyes gentle. “you’re doing really great so far y/n.”

you blushed, “thank you…”

you stood suddenly and reached over to flip through the pages of the textbook, completely unaware of the way your boobs were practically shoved up his face as his breath hitched, hands tightening on the arms of his desk chair.

you really hadn’t noticed, you innocently wanting to just look and see how many chapters you had left to cover, but when you sat back down and quirked an eyebrow over yuji’s flushed face and blown out pupils… it clicked.

was he interested in you like you were with him?

maybe…

“i need motivation.” you sighed.

he cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. “i can— i can give you another donut at the end?”

you giggled. “it’s okay! i have an idea.”

he tilted his head, curious. “what is it?”

“maybe we can do like a reward system!”

“a reward system?”

“yeah!” you nodded eagerly. “for every page we cover, i get a reward!”

he sat up and smiled, “oh right! i’ll give you a donut after each page then!”

but you shook your head, and he deflated. “no?”

“do you know about hickeys?”

he choked, eyes widening dramatically. “a—about— well, yeah, i do.”

“maybe that could be my reward! a hickey for every page.”

you smiled at him so fucking cutely, as if you didn’t just ask him for something so raunchy, and his throat literally dried up at your request.

holy fucking shit.

“you want—” he wiped his hands on his pants. “you want a hickey from— from me? really?”

“yeah! only if you’re okay with it, definitely not if you’re not.”

“no i—” his eyes darted from your neck to your face. “i am…”

holy. fucking. shit.

your tutoring session resumed, and yuji literally could not teach you a single damn thing anymore, knowing that by the end of this page he was going to do something that only took place in his dreams.

after a bit, he turned the page and shifted his body to face you, nervous and clammy.

you smiled sweetly and took his hands, yours soft and heavenly as you placed his on your shoulders.

“only if you’re okay with it.” you murmured again softly, tone nurturing as your pretty eyes looked into his.

“i— i am.”

“okay! whenever you’re ready.”

yuji breathed in shakily and out, gulping before coming closer to your gorgeous neck and planting his lips on it.

your hands came to rest on his thighs as he sucked— slowly and carefully, not wanting to suck too hard and accidentally hurt you as his tongue flicked over the spot, the pressure of his mouth making you shudder as he continued to suck and create a pretty purple bruise.

he pulled away when he was finished with a wet smack, his breathing heavy as he searched your face for any indication that he did well.

and you glowed, looking at your reflection on the little mirror that sat on his desk. “it’s so pretty! i love it!”

a hesitant smile spread across his face. “r—really? you can be honest i—”

you looked at him. “no it was amazing! it felt really good!”

his dick twitched.

“okay let’s keep going now!”

well the motivation definitely worked, and funnily enough, you both got through the next page a lot quicker than before, yuji almost immediately turning to face you after turning the page.

this time, he placed his hands on your waist as he sucked. and he sucked, harder and wetter than before as his fingers pressed into you— his tongue running over your new hickey and dragging over the previous one too before reluctantly pulling back, his dick a literal bolder at this point as you squeezed your thighs together, both of your chests panting.

you had barely reached a quarter of the next page when yuji set his pencil down and turned, his cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

“can i please just give you another one?”

you nodded quickly, eagerly, as you both stood and he latched back onto your neck, his arms around your entire body desperately, grazing his teeth against your sensitive flesh and full on making out with it as he messily sucked and ran his lips all over your neck this time, a moan slipping from you as he did that it made you slap a hand over your mouth in embarrassment.

“s—sorry—”

“don’t be don’t be—” he breathed quickly, walking backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed and he sat, pulling you with him and grabbing at your thighs for you to sit on his lap.

you listened, your neck littered with yuji’s hickeys as you subconsciously and softly grinded on his crotch, him groaning into your neck and biting down harder as your breath hitched.

yuji lost it at this point, all forms of moral out the fucking window as he dragged his long wet tongue from the side of your neck and up to your cheek, kissing and licking deviously at it as his hands squeezed hungrily over your plushy thighs.

he pulled back, eyes half lidded.

“can i—” pant “can i give you hickeys on your tits?”

————————————————————————

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @hiraethwa

[heeliopheelia]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

word count: 4.3k

warnings: cursing, crying, neglect, tiny mention of bleeding

a/n: i think i win the contest of overusing commas with this one 🤍 tbh this fic is just yapping so pls deal with me... it's good to write some proper angst again tho, i missed it :(( hope you guys like it and don't find them too repetetive!!

masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG

It's been two weeks since you got the opportunity to take a proper look at Heeseung. And now as you do, you find it hard to recognize your fiancé who looks like he's about to collapse from exhaustion, to say the least. 

“I never asked you to mother me or worry about me so much. Stop getting into my business so much. I’m not a child, YN.”

It’s like he was blind to how hurt his words and actions were making you feel. It’s so unusual for him, so out of character and unfamiliar to you, that you can’t help but think that maybe it really is your fault for riling him up this much.

“I worry about you because I’m your fiancé and I love you, you jerk!” You scoff at his careless words and take a step back, the aching in your heart only increasing. “I only want to look after you because you clearly don't know how to do it yourself. I mean, look at yourself! You look as if you haven’t slept in a week and I know you haven’t been eating either. How can I not worry about you when all you do is neglect yourself?”

“Dunno, maybe find yourself something to keep you busy enough. You stay at home all day, do as much as nothing, no wonder you’re so damn nosy. I would be too with this much time on my hands.”

He’s so indifferent to everything you say, you try to recall where it all started going so wrong. All you did was ask whether he’s eaten at work or not, and now the two of you are snapping at each other as if you weren’t lovers, and trying not to hurt each other was a long forgotten thought by now. 

“If you’re so unhappy with our relationship – with me, maybe it’s best we take a break,” you say as you feel your throat tighten painfully. 

“Agreed. I never even wanted this marriage in the first place,” he scowls, silencing you, words rolling out of his mouth way quicker than his brain is able to process it. 

He bites his words back quickly when he watches your face dropping along with your shoulders, and fuck, you look as if you’ve given up on him right then and there. 

You walk away then, tears streaming down your face, muttering something about how ungrateful he was being, and all Heeseung could do was stand still as if plastered to the floor, in utter disbelief of his own, untrue, words.

After his cruel statement echoes through his head for the fourth time, he finally snaps out of the self pity and rushes after you to the kitchen where you’re leaned over the counter, head buried in your hands as you cry.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly. He walks up from behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his forehead on your shoulder blade. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry for everything I said, sweetheart.”

He turns you around gently and feels his chest tighten at how fucking sad you look. He never wants to see you like this. He never wants to be the cause of this ever again.

And when he looks to the side, his throat closes and dries completely at the sight of your engagement ring laying on the counter right behind you. 

“Are you sure you didn’t mean it?” You ask, wiping the tears away with your hand pointlessly as another stream follows right after. “Things like that don’t come out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t, love, I swear I didn’t. I’m so fucking sorry,” he breathes out, pulling you closer to him by your neck again. 

Never again. Never fucking again. He keeps telling himself in his head as he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles, just where your ring was supposed to be sitting snugly. Then he lowers it and places your palm against his chest, right above his heart, and covers your smaller hand with his.

That was too close to losing you, and himself, for that matter. Because he would never recover if you were gone from his life and all because of him. 

“Then why did you even say it?” You sob pitifully as you feel the warm tears dripping down the tip of your nose.

“I don’t know,” he shushes you gently, trying his best to not break you any further. 

You pull away once you feel calm enough, hands clutching his t-shirt. “It's not too late to call off the wedding, Seung,” you manage out breathily, raising your palm to cup his cheek. “I'd rather not take the step further than have you unhappy.”

“Darling, no.” Heeseung bends down to minimize the distance between the two of you and peppers your face with loving, warm kisses. He just wants to erase those atrocious thoughts out of your mind as quickly as possible. “Please, there's nothing I'd ever want more than to make you my wife. That was stupid of me to say. I'll never be happy if I'm not with you, my love.”

“I just don’t want to force this marriage on you. You need to want it as much as I do, otherwise it’s pointless.”

Heeseung almost chokes on air when he rushes out his answer even before you can properly finish your sentence. “I do want it. Please, you have to believe me.” 

“Really?”

Heeseung smiles at you softly as he wipes your wet cheeks with his thumbs. “Really. Scout’s honour.”

You breathe out, feeling relief, and look up at him with squinted, puffy eyes. “Sometimes I just wanna strangle you to death, Lee Heeseung.”

He chuckles lightly before pressing one last kiss to your cheek. “Aren't you just so adorable? You should add this to your wedding vows.”

“Maybe I’ll add this to your eulogy instead if you pull shit like that again.”

Heeseung clicks his tongue with a grin pulling on his lips. “Touché.”

PARK JAY

The atmosphere in the living room is so heavy that your chest starts to hurt. You’re standing barely two steps away from the man you love the most, yet you’ve never felt more far away from him than in this moment. 

His eyes – cold but still undoubtedly full of love, drill holes in the side of your head as you turn your face away from him to try and gather your thoughts.

Arguments with Jay were rare. You always tried to work things out immediately, keeping your heads cool. But something has broken over the last month and you can’t see each other eye to eye anymore. At the very beginning of your relationship you made a promise to never go to bed angry. To never leave things unresolved. Yet now Jay’s been sleeping on the couch for the past week, and you fail to understand what the fuck has happened to the two of you. 

And you can’t help but think that, maybe, sometimes love is just not enough. 

“You’re not even trying to find the middle ground anymore. All you do is snap at me the second I come home. I’m fucking tired of it! Would it hurt to give it a rest for a day?” 

The tension is almost palpable. You hate how you can’t seem to back away from any argument but only keep hurting him instead. 

“Put effort into our relationship first, then we’ll talk,” you spit out instead, against your better judgment.

“It’s funny coming from you who’s done nothing but put a fucking distance between us!”

“This doesn’t make any sense anymore, Jay. We need some time apart,” you finally speak into the dull silence, eyes casted downwards at the floor as your hand keeps twitching, only to finally grab for your ring finger and slip the silver band off of it. You didn’t think much of your action, hell, you didn’t even process it properly. 

Well, not until you hear the shaky exhale leave Jay’s lips. 

Silently, he presses his lips together and nods his head before turning on his heel and leaving the room. You listen intently to the shuffling, then ringing of the keys and eventually the door being shut. 

A moment of silence turns into minutes of you staring at the ring on your palm with tears burning your eyes mercilessly. 

With your heart falling low to your stomach, you drop down on the couch and tug on your hair slightly, cursing yourself for acting so mindlessly. 

You wallow in self pity in the dead quiet room. The shiny ring feels so heavy and burning in your clenched fist. You take in a deep breath, then quickly slide the band back onto your finger, feeling instantly shielded with it being on its righteous place again.

And just like that, you spend the next three hours on the verge of losing your sanity. With no word from Jay. He’s left your messages unread. He’s left your calls unanswered. 

You don’t know whether he’s okay or hurt or simply gone. All that combined is enough to leave you panicked and terrified, unable to have a second of peace. 

You never meant to take it this far. This – your words and rapid actions, that will forever remain as one of your biggest regrets. You don’t like the idea that you made your other half feel like you’ve taken him for granted. Or for what’s worse, like a person that you can use for unloading your frustration on. 

There’s this throbbing pain in your chest as you realize that maybe he’s not coming back because why would he if you can’t even love him properly?

Your fingers are bleeding from how hard you’ve been picking on your cuticles. 

And then you hear the jingle of keys and soon the front door opens quietly. You know that even after all of this he’s still being careful to not wake you up. It’s killing you how he thinks you’d ever be able to get a wink of sleep without knowing he’s safe. 

You’re quick to drop your phone on the couch and shoot up on your legs, rushing over to the door and throwing yourself on Jay’s neck. 

“I was so worried about you!” You gasp out, clinging onto your fiancé desperately as tears unknowingly make their way down your cheeks. “Please, don’t ever do that again!”

“Sorry, my phone died,” he replies after a second or two, bringing his arm up to wrap around your waist and keep you close to him. 

He’s still upset but he understands where you’re coming from, knowing well that if it was you instead of him he’d probably go insane from worry. 

He can feel your heart hammering against his chest, so he lifts his hand and strokes your hair to help you calm down. But then you start crying, feeling his gentle touch even after everything you said, that was enough to push you over the edge. You clench your trembling hands on his sweater as you burst out with choked sobs, slouching against his warm and comforting body. 

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” you weep into his chest like a mantra and Jay can quite literally feel his heart cracking at your miserable state. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers, hot air hitting your ear before he presses a soft kiss to its tip. “Don’t cry anymore, honey. We’re okay.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you,” you whimper quietly. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“Don’t say that,” he scolds you with a frown. Your whimpers twist his guts even more than your harsh words from before. “It’s not the first nor the last time we’ll have an argument. It’s not worth losing your pretty head over it, okay?” 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat one last time. “I promise I'll never take it off again. I’ll never lash out on you like that ever again too.”

Jay grabs your hand and runs his thumb over the thin silver band, the same one he was picking so carefully for weeks, and a small smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. He hates how shameful you sound. 

He’ll never tell you how the sight of you pulling your ring off your finger made him physically sick to his stomach. He can't have you feeling even worse than you already do. So instead he brings you close to him and rests his forehead on yours. 

“I’m so stupid,” you whisper quietly as you close your eyes, your heavy eyelashes letting go of another few droplets of crystal tears which Jay’s lips soak up instantly. “I don’t know what I’d do if you actually left.”

“You know me better than to think I’d let us break it off over such a petty fight.” And, yes, you do. But your lip wobbles with silent agony at the sole thought of that. “Hey,” he tries again as he presses a loving kiss to your red nose. “I’m not leaving, okay? How could I ever?” 

“I love you.”

With his thumb caressing your burning cheek so tenderly, you feel at peace again.

“I love you too,” he replies without skipping a beat. “No one can handle you as well as I do. And no one sees me for me like you do. We complete each other. We belong together.”

He kisses you silly then, until there’s no more tears left in your body and you’re barely able to breathe anymore. He kisses you until your legs give in and he swoops you up to carry you into your shared bed for the first time in what seems like forever.

He kisses you until it engraves in your mind that there’s no other person for him in this world but you.

SIM JAKE

“Baby, I already apologized.” A groan lingers at the back of his throat but for his own sake he stifles it inside. “I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

You sit on the edge of your shared bed and clench your fingers on the silky duvet. “How about you start showing up to things we both agreed on attending to?”

He runs his hand down his face. “I know. It just slipped my mind, that’s all. You know how busy I’ve been this week.”

“This shouldn’t be my business only, though. I mean, for christ’s sake, it’s our wedding! I would really appreciate it if you participated in something for once!”

Flowers and cake. That’s literally all you’ve asked of him to go and pick with you for the wedding reception. Knowing his tight schedule, you picked the date carefully so that it wouldn’t meddle with his work and you could even go grab some dinner afterwards. But your plans all went out the window when he didn’t even bother showing up or giving you a heads up text, standing you up yet another time when it comes to your wedding preparations.

You’re honestly getting tired of it.

“I’ll be there next time,” he assures you quickly as he nervously taps his fingers on the doorway of your bedroom. 

“You said you wouldn’t do that,” your voice wavers as your shoulders drop with resignation. With the back of your hand, you wipe off the tears that made their way down your cheeks. “You promised to help, Jake. But you left me alone with everything, as usual.”

“It’s not even that big of a deal. This can be rescheduled any time. Baby, stop stressin’ so much.”

“But it is a big deal to me!” You cry out, palm reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. You breathe out heavily. “I don’t want to do everything by myself! We’re supposed to be in this together! If getting married means that I’m gonna be alone with all the responsibilities that you don’t consider important enough, I’m not even sure I still want it.”

To back up your words, your hand moves half-consciously to your ring finger and you twist the cool piece of jewelry in between your fingers. 

“No, no, no, no.” Jake moves quickly, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes towards you to desperately clasp your hand in his two and stop you from whatever the hell you were about to do. He drops to his knees in front of the bed, right at your feet. “Baby, you promised you’d never take it off.”

You’re at a loss of words as you look into his wide eyes, the seriousness of your actions only catching up to you now. You gasp quietly, eyes watering just like his, quickly relaxing your tensed hand in his and letting him slide the ring back down your finger, just where it belongs.

Silence envelopes the two of you, besides the sound of your sniffles. 

You feel awful. 

Jake feels even worse. 

Leaning forward, you press your face to his shoulder and melt instantly when he brings a hand to caress your hair. 

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, clenching your hand to feel the cool ring against your skin. “I don't know why I did that. I didn't mean to.”

“I know,” he soothes you just as softly. He stands up from the floor and carefully maneuvers the two of you so that you’re placed on his lap as he sits with his back against the headboard. “It's my fault. I'm sorry. I never meant to disregard your feelings like that.”

At the end of the day, both of you would rather set themselves ablaze than watch the other one hurting. 

You nod silently, heart pounding in your chest before you bring your arms up and throw them over his neck.

“I’m sorry I was so impulsive.”

“No. You did nothing wrong.” His soothing voice carries over the room, enveloping you with warmth. “I promise I'll be here whenever you want me to from now on. I don’t want you to feel neglected by me, especially now when you’re this stressed over the wedding. I won’t let you down, again.” 

“I just need a little help, that’s all,” you mumble tiredly into his skin.

“I know.” His warm lips press to your forehead lovingly. “I’m sorry for being an insensitive douche. It won’t happen again. I’ll take some days off next week, hm?”

The tears on your face dry slowly as your hold on him tightens. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then it’s done. I'll be all yours and you’ll be all mine then,” he hums and noses at your cheek, finally bringing out a small giggle out of you. After all these years, he still melts at the sound. “I won’t let things get this out of hand again, YN. I promise.”

“Okay,” you whisper. Tilting your head up and bringing his down towards you, you join your lips in a kiss that you’ve been longing for for days. His movements are slow and careful as he tries to soak up as much of the moment as possible. 

His kisses slowly put your broken pieces back together. He never knew how much seeing you cry like this would hurt him. And he’ll make damn sure he won’t ever have to experience that again for as long as you're with him.

“If I have a life to spend, it'll only be with you, sweetheart,” he lowers his voice to match yours, cradling your cheek in the palm of his hand. “You're it for me. I'll never give you a chance to doubt that ever again.”

PARK SUNGHOON

“You’re never home! There’s always a hundred things more important to you than spending an hour of your time with me. Your fucking fiance! Are we really about to get married when you’re clearly so tired of me already?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you finally voice out everything that’s been sitting on your chest for the past month. Things have not been working out well with the two of you, much to your despair. He’s been neglectful, always too busy to help you with anything – even the wedding related things that you should’ve gotten done weeks ago. 

And you know that he’s swamped with work and it's not his fault. You understand everything. But to ask him to spare you an hour or two of his day shouldn’t be too much. It shouldn’t make him snap at you unlike what he just did the second he came back home. You slowly begin to lose your hope.

“God, have you always been this needy? Why can’t you accept that I can’t always put you first? No matter how much I’d want to, sometimes I just can’t! Deal with this!”

“Fucking- Fine.”

Your hand moves quicker than your brain, and the next thing you know, your shiny ring is being pulled off your finger and resting in the palm of your other hand. 

You can see the disbelief flashing through his face briefly before it completely morphs into a scowl. 

“You really think that this will solve the problem?” He asks, eyebrows narrowed as he glowers at you from across the room. “Really? Does that ring mean so little to you that you go and throw it away with any minor inconvenience?” 

You try to blink away the frustrated tears, hand raking up to brush your hair away from your face. “No, fuck, I just- I don’t know what to do anymore, Sunghoon. I feel like I’m the only one in this relationship. I need you to give me something more because whatever you’re doing now is not enough for me.”

“Well, I’m putting out everything I have, YN! I love you! If that’s still not good enough for you, then maybe it’s not meant to be.”

The silence that falls in the room doesn’t last long as your sudden sob pierces Sunghoon’s ears quickly, making his stomach drop to the soles of his feet. His heart wrenches and twists as the anger simmers down and evaporates from his body within a second, and he’s quickly coming back to his senses at the sight of you breaking down right in front of him. 

“Can’t you just try?” You cry into your hands, shielding your face away from your fiance. “That’s all I’m asking of you. Is it really so hard to try?”

No, it’s not. Sunghoon knows it without a second of thinking. It’s not too hard to try, never if it’s for you. And his throat dries so quickly when he basks in the weight of his words that finally made you break as well. 

“You don’t know how much it hurts to feel like you’re too much for your partner,” you wail with a small voice, shoulders trembling and hands quickly getting damp with tears. “You’ll never know how it is to feel unwanted, because you’ll never have to when you're with me. Because I love you, asshole, but now I’m doubting if you’re saying it back just for the sake of it.”

With air getting stuck in his throat, Sunghoon looks at you wide-eyed before quickly crossing the living room and enveloping you in his arms. His warmth wraps around you in what you've always considered to be safety, but now it just makes you cry more. 

He finds it hard to breathe. The hesitation in your eyes feels like a stab to his chest.

“Of course I still love you,” he says, voice muffled by your hair. 

He hates how he made you feel the opposite. He hates how you’re right and he never had to worry about any reassurement of such kind from your side because you’re just that good to him. And his heart breaks with the realization of how much of a lousy partner he’s been to you when all you ever were was nothing less than perfect.

So he places his hand on the back of your head and presses you even closer to his shoulder as you cry, his own eyes burning with tears at the sound of your sobs and sniffles. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my darling,” he apologizes with a heavy heart, fearful of what’s about to come next. “I didn’t mean to neglect you this much. I could say that I’m tired and the work has been a lot lately, but I know these excuses are not enough to make up for my actions.”

You’re mad and hurt, but you love him and would never want to give up on him, so you wrap your arms around his middle and hold him almost as tight as he holds you, burying your wet face in his chest. 

“I love you more than anything, YN.” He pulls away from you only to cup your face and make you look at him. His long fingers wipe away the tears with gentle touch, soothing your stinging skin instantly. “You could never be too much for me. I want all of you. I promise I’ll do better. I’ll love you better.”

And when you’re looking up at him with these shiny eyes of yours, he closes the distance and presses a loving kiss to your swollen lips, hoping to take at least some of the pain away. He doesn’t think he can hold you any tighter. He can’t love you any stronger than right now, and it messes with his head how easily he could’ve had it all ruined only minutes ago. 

He’ll never take your love for granted ever again. Because if he did, he’d never be able to pick up the parts of whatever was left of him, and put himself back together ever again. 

You can feel his warm hand opening your closed palm before he takes the ring you've been clutching so tightly and holds it in between his fingers. 

“Can I put it back on, baby? Please.”

You nod wordlessly while you try to tame your tears. You hold your slightly trembling hand up to him. He takes it, gently, and watches as your bottom lip wobbles while he slides the ring on your finger just like he did months ago. 

“I'll never screw up like that again. You have my word for it.”

You sniffle quietly when he kisses you right on the cool band adorning your skin. “You better not, Park Sunghoon.”

His long fingers caress your cheek, wiping the remains of the tears away. “Can you forgive me, darling?”

You don't need to think long of an answer. “You know I can never stay mad at you. Even if you're a idiot, I'll never stop loving you. You have my whole heart, Hoon. Please, don't ever make me regret trusting you with it.”

permanent taglist + taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @seongclb @iamnotalicia

© heeliopheelia 2024 // ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT copy, translate or repost any of my works on any other social platforms.

[girlygguk]

LIE WITH YOU ⋆ JJK

in which jungkook doesn't realize what he has until he just about loses it.

pairing grumpy!jk x sunshine!(f)reader

genre angst, fluff, roommates au, college au

word count 8.4k

content jk 20 | yn 20, grumpy & troubled jk, soft & overthinking oc, quiet mutual pining, jk outbursts at oc, trouble in roommate paradise, oc turns to her ex to cope, jk turns to substances to cope, marijuana and alcohol consumption, oc is grabbed roughly by a male w/o consent, fight scene, jk beats the shit out of a guy, angsty moments, cute moments, sweet ending

author's note so this is my attempt at the grumpy x sunshine trope and my way of hopefully making up for flopping at drabble night 😭 this could def do w/ a part two, so that option is open for expressions of interest heh.. 🙂‍↕️ love you 💋

beta read by my girlfriend & god's sweetest angel, @lovieku

Jungkook groaned as sunlight crept through the blinds, slicing into the darkness of his room. The familiar clinking of dishes and your humming drifted from the kitchen, grating on his nerves like nails on a fucking chalkboard. He rolled over with a heavy sigh, pulling his pillow over his head, but it did nothing to block you out.

“Wake up, Jungkookie!” your chipper voice rang out. “We’re going to be late! I made your coffee!”

He clenched his jaw, muttering a curse into the mattress as he dragged himself upright. You were always like this—too cheerful, too energetic in the mornings. He never understood how anyone could function with so much fucking energy at this hour, let alone be so damn happy about it. His body moved on autopilot as he trudged into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

You handed him a steaming mug, that same bright smile plastered on your face—the one that seemed to melt everyone else’s hearts. And, yeah, maybe his too on some days. But not today.

"Here you go, Kookie," you said sweetly, placing the cup in his hands. "Figured you’d need an extra shot. I know you were up late last night."

Jungkook muttered a barely audible "thanks," taking the mug as he plopped down on the bar stool, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. His mood was sour, patience wearing thin, and though you kept talking, going on about some assignment or weekend plans, his focus blurred. All he could feel was the irritation bubbling up inside of him.

And then you said it. The one phrase that tipped him right over the edge.

“You better get dressed, Kookie,” you hummed, sipping from your own drink. “It’s a beautiful day! Let's start walking so we can get some of the sunshine—"

“Can you just not for one second?” he snapped, slamming the mug down on the counter, the clank of ceramic echoing in your little flat. “Every morning, Y/N. Every fucking morning, you’re just so jolly and merry. Like, it’s annoying. I can’t take it.”

The silence that followed was instant and suffocating.

Your smile faltered, the usual brightness in your eyes dimming as his words settled over you. Jungkook watched your expression shift into shock and confusion, then into something smaller and quieter. Your shoulders slumped slightly, and without a word, you turned away, focusing on the dishes like you could disappear into them.

Jungkook cursed under his breath when he saw the hurt in your posture, his stomach twisting. He wanted to apologize, to take it back, but he didn't know how. So instead, he pushed off the stool and retreated to his room, the sound of his footsteps heavy as he left you all alone in the kitchen.

The atmosphere in your last class of the day was painfully different from the usual. You sat next to Jungkook, but the banter, the jokes, and the teasing nudges were nowhere to be found. Instead, you kept to yourself, eyes glued to your notebook, only speaking when the professor called on you. And even then, your voice was so much quieter than usual.

Jungkook kept glancing at you, each look tightening the knot of guilt in his chest. He never meant to hurt you. It wasn’t your fault—none of it was. The stress from his deadlines, the sleepless nights, the pressure from work, it was all too much, and he took it out on you. But that wasn’t fair. You had shorter deadlines, longer nights, and two fucking jobs. You never complained. You still smiled. Still hummed in the mornings. Still looked at him like he could do no wrong.

But now, you barely looked at him at all.

When class finally ended, Jungkook reached out to grab his things, intending to walk home with you, just like you always did on Fridays. But when he turned, you were already halfway out the door, your bag slung over your shoulder, disappearing before he could even catch up.

His heart sank right to his ass.

For the first time in months, you didn’t walk home together. No light footsteps beside him, no playful nudges, no laughter bubbling up between the two of you as you made your way through the streets. There were no silly word games that you always roped him into, the ones he pretended to hate but secretly looked forward to. Without you, everything felt… quiet.

Jungkook shoved his hands into his pockets, the weight of your absence gnawing at him much more than he expected. He trudged back to the apartment alone, grumbling under his breath the entire way.

Jungkook sat on the couch, phone in his hand, staring grumpily at the “seen” message on his last text. He had sent it over an hour ago.

Hey👋 Where r u? Did u still wanna get takeout for dinner?

He glanced over at the cold takeout sitting on the counter, your orange chicken untouched. His own meal was getting cold too, but he didn’t care. The apartment was far too quiet without you there, and the empty seat beside him felt heavier than usual.

He swallowed harshly, flicking through shows on the TV, finally landing on Fire Guardians. It was your thing—watching together every Friday night, a tradition of sorts. But he couldn’t bring himself to press play without you. It wouldn’t feel right.

It had been two years since you and Jungkook moved in together. You came into his life through Jimin, the first person Jungkook met at uni. And if Jimin was a ray of sunshine, you made him look like a grumpy, moody cloud. Well… like him.

Living with you had turned out to be this strange, quiet sort of heaven, though you always acted like he’d done you this huge favor by letting you move in. As if he didn’t look forward to coming home every day just to see you.

When you first moved in, the two of you tried to rotate cooking duties. He remembered you sitting there, waiting for him to tell you your cooking was awful—which, yeah, it absolutely was—but he never said a thing. You called him sweet that day, and he could still remember how those words sounded coming out of your mouth. How they made him feel. No one had ever called him that before.

Now, he did most of the cooking, while you handled the cleaning. And on the nights he was too tired, you’d order takeout. It was domestic. Stupid. Amazing.

The apartment complex wasn’t anything special, just cheaper than dorms and close to campus. That was the whole deal—you guys were saving for something better, something bigger. You were studying to be an elementary school teacher, and he knew you were going to be the fucking best. Meanwhile, Jungkook was racking up his hours and experience as an apprentice at Modify, a tattoo parlor in the city.

The plan was simple. You’d both graduate, find a nice place close to the school you land a job at, and he’d find a parlor nearby. Easy.

Jungkook had never been good at making friends—he knew that. He could count the people in his circle on one hand and still have fingers left. It wasn’t a mystery to him why that was. People didn’t get close because he didn’t let them. He knew the way he came accross; closed off, intimidating. But somehow you managed to slip right past all of that. 

You, however, were the complete fucking opposite. Everyone knew you. Everyone loved you. It didn’t matter where you were, whether it was in class or working at the cafe, people just naturally gravitated toward you. You had this way of making everyone feel welcome, included. You were bubbly, outgoing, could strike up a conversation with anybody. 

Jungkook had seen it a million times—how you could light up a room just by walking in. How you could talk to anyone, about anything, and leave them feeling like they’d known you forever.

But despite all of that, despite the swarm of friends, classmates that circled around you like moths to a flame, you always found your way back to him.

Jungkook didn’t understand it, not at first. You had everyone, you could be anywhere. But somehow, no matter where you went or who was pulling for your attention, you always came back to him. Even if it was just the two of you sitting quietly on the couch, sharing space without needing to fill it with words, you chose him.

He noticed it most when he’d get home late from the parlor. Sometimes he’d come through the door, expecting you to be out with friends, but you’d be there. Always. Maybe sitting cross-legged in his hoodie, scrolling through your phone or reading some article for school. Or curled up in a fluffy blanket, waiting for him to come home so you could say goodnight to him properly before finally crashing out on your own bed.

Maybe it was just your thing. Maybe you made everyone feel like they mattered, like they were important. But there was something different about the way you looked at him. The way you lit up when he came home, no matter how late or tired he was. The way you’d call him at the most random times just to ask what he wanted for dinner, if he needed anything.

It wasn’t the same with anyone else.

Or… at least he hoped it wasn’t.

Just as Jungkook was about to send another text, the door creaked open. His head snapped up, maybe a little too eagerly.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice soft, cautious.

You offered him a small smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes, before heading toward your room. That was not your smile. Nowhere near it.

God, he's such an asshole.

“Angel, um, wait, please,” he called out, pushing himself off the couch. His tone shifted, softer now. Vulnerable. “I’m sorry. About this morning. I was just—”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off, turning back to him with a polite, small smile. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Jungkook. Um, I’m actually going out tonight, so…”

You trailed off, your eyes flickering past him toward the untouched takeout on the counter. His heart dropped at the sight of your lip gloss smudged slightly on your bottom lip, the way your eyes barely lingered on him, how you used his full name instead of your usual nickname.

“Oh,” he mumbled, his throat tightening. “Okay. To Tae’s party?”

You nodded quietly, turning back toward your room. Jungkook swallowed, trying to steady his voice.

“I thought we weren’t going to that tonight?” He couldn't stop the disappointment from bleeding through his words. “The new episode of Fire Guardians is out…”

“You can watch it without me,” you said softly, disappearing into your room before he could even think of a response.

Jungkook stood there, staring at the door as it clicked shut.

Watch it without you? As fucking if. He would never.

But then again… he was also “never going to snap at you,” right?

He swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair, jaw clenched so tight it almost hurt. He lingered by your door for a moment. Then, with a low groan, he turned on his heel and made his way back to his room to get ready for Taehyung's party.

The soft sound of IU playing from your phone on the other side of the wall made his fist clench around the shirt in his drawer. That was your sad music.

God, he could fucking spew.

“Kook!” Taehyung greeted with his big, toothy grin, pulling Jungkook into a bro hug. “Good to see you, man! Thought you weren’t coming tonight?”

Jungkook shrugged, forcing a smile for his friend before glancing around the packed floor of Taehyung’s penthouse. The Kims were loaded, and this wasn’t even the most extravagant party Tae had thrown, but it still must have cost a few grand. Jungkook barely registered the lavish surroundings, his mind very much elsewhere.

“Change of plans,” Jungkook muttered, eyes scanning the crowd. “Have you seen—”

“Y/N?” Taehyung finished for him, a knowing laugh escaping as he shoved an unopened beer into Jungkook’s hand. He pointed toward the living room. “Yeah, man, she’s over there, with, uh…”

Jungkook didn’t hear much after that. His gaze locked on you sitting on the couch, leaning against Jisung. Your ex-boyfriend.

Taehyung must’ve seen the way Jungkook’s expression shifted because he didn’t say anything else, just threw an arm around the younger boy's shoulders and steered him toward the lounge.

As they got closer, you glanced up, blinking in surprise when you saw Jungkook. Your body stiffened slightly, and you sat up a little from where you had been resting against Jisung. Your ex, who had been mid-conversation with his friend Minho, glanced down at you when he sensed the change in your demeanour.

“You good, babe?” he asked quietly.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched. He dropped onto the free couch next to Taehyung, twisting the cap off his beer with more force than necessary, eyes narrowing as he stared into nothing.

You nodded at Jisung as you ignored the pet name, but the discomfort in your chest was not as easy to push aside.

You knew how much Jungkook disliked Jisung. He had been there when you were a sobbing mess after Jisung broke up with you, picking up the pieces when you couldn’t even function. And now here you were, sitting under Jisung’s arm like nothing had happened. You couldn’t stop the guilt from swirling in your stomach, couldn’t stop imagining what Jungkook must be thinking.

But you tried not to dwell on it too long. After all, you were just an annoyance to him, right? He didn't explicitly say it, but you know you. Always hovering, always seeking him out, always needing something. Maybe you were doing him a favor by being here with Jisung. If you got back together with him like he had been begging you to, maybe you’d finally give Jungkook the space he seemed to need. Maybe you wouldn’t be so clingy anymore. Maybe, eventually, you’d move in with Jisung, and Jungkook wouldn’t have to deal with you at all.

Jungkook’s gaze, however, was already dragging over your outfit. That little black skirt—the one that always made your ass look so fucking good. Enough of your thighs were showing that he could easily imagine sinking his teeth into the soft, warm flesh. His head tilted a little as his eyes trailed up to the slightly cropped flowery top you wore, rising just enough to reveal a sliver of your stomach. Jungkook watched Jisung’s fingers trace mindlessly at the strip of bare skin, and his grip tightened around the beer bottle as he took a long drink, forcing his gaze to shift to the floor.

It was infuriating. He didn’t know who he was fucking angier at. You, for sitting there with Jisung like it was fucking nothing, or himself, for caring about something that shouldn’t even be his problem.

Your eyes met his for just a second, and for a brief moment, Jungkook saw the sadness there. He wanted to go over, to ask if you were really okay, but instead, he looked away, taking another swig from his beer. You pressed yourself further into Jisung’s side, retreating into your own hurt.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched tighter, his knuckles white as they gripped the neck of the bottle. And when Taehyung leaned over, blunt in hand, Jungkook didn’t hesitate. He pulled the beer away from his mouth and slipped the blunt between his lips, inhaling deeply. The familiar burn settled in his chest, a sensation he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the movement, saw the smoke curling around him, and your heart dropped.

He had been doing so well. He was eighty four days clean. It wasn’t that you had a problem with him smoking—you didn’t, but you knew what it meant to him to stop. His family’s long, dark history with addiction weighed heavily on him, and he had promised himself he wouldn’t let the cycle continue.

“Jungkook,” you said, your voice barely audible over the music. You tried to sit up, but Jisung’s arm was draped heavily over you, pinning you in place. “Jisung, I need to sit up, please.”

You tapped his arm, but he barely reacted, too engrossed in his conversation with Minho.

Jungkook didn’t even look in your direction. He took another long drag before the first hit had even settled, his expression cold and distant. Then he grabbed another blunt and lighter from beside Taehyung, stood silently, and headed for the door.

You didn’t think. You just moved, shoving Jisung’s arm off and muttering a quick apology when he shot you a confused look. You adjusted your skirt when it had risen as you stood and hurried after Jungkook.

“Jungkook, wait, can you slow down, please?” you called, your voice straining over the music while you weaved through the crowd. For a moment, you thought he hadn’t heard you, but then he slowed, just enough for you to catch up. He didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge you, but he held the door open as you slipped outside.

The cold night air hit you both as you walked down the stone steps in silence, the sound of the party fading behind you. When you reached the bottom and sat down, Jungkook followed suit, blunt still dangling between his fingers, the end of it flickering weakly. He puffed at it, reigniting the embers before taking another drag. He gave a low sniffle, his tinnitus acting up like it always did when he smoked.

After a long pause, you reached for the blunt, but Jungkook pulled it away, rolling his eyes as he did.

Your hand fell limply back into your lap, frowning as he took another slow hit, his eyes fixed on the empty street ahead.

“So, you can break your three-month sobriety, but I can’t have one smoke?” you asked with furrowed brows.

“Yep,” he replied, exhaling away from your face.

Your eyes narrowed at him before you mumbled, “that doesn’t seem fair."

“That sucks.” He shrugged, finishing off the blunt before stubbing it out under his shoe. Without hesitation, he started lighting the next one.

You bit down hard on your lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Why are you being such a jerk?” Your voice trembled slightly, and you turned away before he could see the tears welling in your eyes. “Are you really that sick of me?”

Jungkook froze, lighter still sparked in his hand. His grip tightened, the flame flickering out during the long pause. His body went rigid as your words sank in before he slowly turned to look at you.

You were sitting there, lips pressed to the side in that way you did when you were trying not to cry, and he wanted to punch himself in the fucking face.

God, he was such an asshole.

All he had done today was hurt you, push you away, and now here you were, thinking that you were a burden, that he was sick of you. 

He wasn’t sick of you.

Far fucking from it.

But how was he supposed to say that? How was he supposed to admit that the thought of losing you terrified him more than anything? That seeing you with Jisung tonight had ripped him apart. That he couldn’t stand how easily you seemed to be slipping away, falling back into old patterns that didn’t include him. That all he wanted was to take you home, put you in one of his hoodies, curl up on the couch, and watch the new episode of Fire fucking Guardians together. Eat the rest of your orange chicken because you always insisted on getting a large even though you never finished it.

But he couldn’t say any of that.

So he didn’t.

Instead, he sparked the second blunt, raising it to his lips for a long, angry drag. The silence between you stretched heavily and painful. Then he saw it—the tears finally spilling over, running freely down your cheeks.

You pulled your phone from your skirt and started swiping through the Uber app. The glow of the screen lit your face as you sniffled quietly, your fingers trembling as you clicked to confirm the ride.

Jungkook frowned, pulling the stick from his mouth, the smoke lingering in the air between you. “Y/N, please don’t cry,” he said lowly. “And don’t get an Uber… I’ll walk you home.”

“That’s okay,” you replied shakily, wiping quickly over your eyes. “I don’t want to burden you more than I already have.”

You sniffled again, the sound breaking through the quiet as you stood up. “Um, I’m just going to grab some things and stay at Jimin’s tonight. Give you some space.” You paused, hand trembling as you ran it under your eyes, trying to pull yourself together. “If you’re… reconsidering us living together, just let me know. I’ll apply for a dorm next semester and—”

“What?” His eyes were wide, voice sharp as he stood up. “No. Don’t-don’t fucking do that. I don’t- I’m not—” He huffed, frustration and panic mingling as the weed fogged his thoughts, making it harder for him to convey what he wanted to say.

God, he was so fucking stupid!

He hastily threw the blunt to the side, the sparks fading as it hit the ground. He closed the distance between you in two steps, hand reaching out as if he could somehow stop you from slipping away.

“Y/N, please don’t leave. I don’t know what I’d do if you moved out. Just—please.”

You looked away, the embarrassment of crying making it harder to speak. “Well, something’s changed, Kookie,” you said shakily. “I thought I just caught you at the wrong time this morning, and I know I can be a lot sometimes, but… I don’t want to stay if you’re unhappy.” Your gaze dropped to the ground as you fought to keep steady. “I don’t want this turning into resentment. I can’t have you hating me. I-I can’t.”

Jungkook’s heart shattered at the sight of you—shoulders hunched, lip trembling as you tried so hard to hide your tears. He clenched his fists, hating himself for being the reason you were standing there thinking he was unhappy. That he could ever hate you.

You took a shaky breath, running a hand through your hair as you tried to calm yourself. “I’m going to go get Taehyung so he can stay with you. You haven’t smoked in a while and your tolerance is low,” you said quietly, turning to climb back up the steps into the house.

Jungkook didn’t move. He just stood there, heart cracking, feet rooted to the ground as he watched you walk away.

Five minutes later, you were almost back at the front door, a bottle of water for Jungkook in hand. You had spoken with Taehyung, asking him to keep an eye on Jungkook for you since you were heading home. He could tell something was wrong—he'd never seen you look this sad before, and it clearly worried him. But instead of pressing you for details, he simply nodded and promised to hang with Jungkook and make sure he got home safe.

Jisung’s voice cut through your thoughts as he walked up to you. “Hey, babe, is everything okay? I made you a drink and couldn’t find you… come back to the lounge?”

You glanced up at him, swallowing back a grimace. Going back to the couch with him was the last thing you wanted right now. At that realization, guilt twisted sudden and deep in your gut. You knew you were using him, even if it hadn’t been conscious at first. But after just finally letting yourself cry for the first time today, the reason for your actions had become crystal clear.

Jisung had been surprised when you texted him after your last class, finally agreeing to meet up after months of declining his advances. You’d gone to his dorm, made out a little, but when he tried to take it further, you’d pulled away and claimed you weren’t feeling well. You had agreed to come to the party tonight, thinking maybe it would help. That maybe it would ease the ache in your chest from feeling like such a burden to the one person who mattered most to you.

What Jungkook said this morning wasn’t horrible. If anything, it was true. You were too chipper in the mornings. But you had never gotten the sense it bothered him before. If you had, you would’ve toned it down. You thought he was okay with your personality. You thought he liked it. He said he did… He was probably just lying to spare your feelings.

God, you were such an idiot.

“I’m really sorry, Jisung, I just don’t feel well tonight. Could we try another night? I’ll text you later. I just—I need to lay down for a bit.”

You watched as Jisung’s grip tightened around the glass in his hand, his expression shifting from something concerned and hopeful to something much darker.

“Do you ever get tired, Y/N?”

The question threw you. You fidgeted with the water bottle in your hands, blinking. “I- uh- what do you mean?”

“Do you ever get tired of leading guys on?” he sneered, his eyes dragging over you in a way that made your skin crawl. “Pretending you’re gonna give it up, only to leave them hanging while you run back to your depressed-ass boy toy?”

For a second, you couldn’t believe what you’d just heard. That someone you had been in a relationship with, that you had cried over losing, could say something so horrible.

“E-excuse me?” Your voice trembled slightly, but the anger flared hotter than the hurt. “First of all, I don’t lead anyone on. And second of all, Jungkook isn’t—” You stepped closer, defensiveness spiking in your gut. “Don’t talk about him like that. You don’t know anything about him.”

Jisung let out a cruel, mocking laugh, shaking his head. “Please. It’s pathetic, Y/N. The way you follow him around, waiting for him to give a shit. You really think he’s gonna be there for you? That he wants you the way you want him? Wake the fuck up.”

“Fuck you,” you spat, stepping back, the bottle trembling in your grip. Your heart pounded as you turned to leave, but Jisung’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm and pulling you back into him.

“Don’t walk away from me.”

“Let go, Jisung.” You yanked your arm, panic crawling up your spine as his grip tightened, his fingers digging into your skin.

“I’m doing you a favor,” he snarled. “You think that fucking degenerate could offer you more than I can?” He scoffed, his breath hot against your face. “Oh, please.”

Anger surged through you so hot it was blinding. Your palms pressed against his chest, and with all the strength you could muster, you shoved him so hard it even shocked yourself. Jisung stumbled back, his shoulder hitting the front door with a loud thud, and for a second, he looked startled. But then his expression darkened even further as he stepped toward you again.

You were about to throw the water bottle at him and make a run for it when the door suddenly swung open. Jungkook appeared, his eyes scanning the commotion that he heard through the door, finally landing on the sight of Jisung towering over you.

He didn’t think. He just moved.

Before you could say anything, Jungkook was lunging at Jisung, but Taehyung rushed in behind him, grabbing the back of his shirt before he could make contact.

“Kook, don’t—”

In his attempt to dodge your best friend, Jisung stumbled, his shoulder slamming into yours. Your footing slipped, and you landed hard on the floor, ass-first. A few girls who had been dancing nearby rushed over when they saw you fall.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” one of them asked, her voice full of concern as she grabbed your arm to help you up. She gasped as you winced, pulling her hand away and seeing the red marks forming on your skin. "Oh my god—"

“I’m okay,” you said quickly, shaking your head even as your voice wavered slightly. “I’m fine, really, Eunji. Thank you.”

Jungkook was there in an instant, shaking off Taehyung’s grip as he dropped to his knees beside you. His hands hovered over your thighs before settling there as his eyes scanned your face.

“Are you o—” His voice faltered, cut off as his gaze dropped to your arm, the bruises standing out starkly against your skin. His entire expression shifted, his worry morphing into something darker, something furious.

He didn’t speak, didn’t even blink before he was on his feet, turning back to Jisung with murder written all over his face.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, the Uber notification flashing across the screen

Before he could storm off, you grabbed his hand. “Jungkook, my Uber’s here,” you pleaded. "Please, let's just go. Please."

You could feel the tension in his body, every muscle coiled and ready to explode. But when you tugged at his hand again, his eyes finally met yours. For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze flicking between you and Jisung, who stood there with that smug, unbothered look that only fueled Jungkook's rage further. But after what felt like forever, he nodded stiffly and helped you to your feet, intertwining his fingers with yours as he led you toward the door.

Just as you reached the threshold, Jisung’s laugh echoed behind you.

“Yeah, go run after your little bitch, Jeon,” he sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “I get it, bro. I’d be all over that too. Tightest pussy on campus, huh?”

Welp.

Jungkook broke from your grip instantly and swung around so fast you almost didn't catch it. His fist connected with Jisung’s jaw before anyone could stop him, sending him crashing straight to the floor. 

But he didn’t stop. Jungkook dropped to his knees, landing punch after punch, his knuckles splitting as they collided with Jisung’s face, the sound of bone crunching under the force of his blows.

You stood frozen, your breath caught in your throat as you stared at Jungkook straddling your ex-boyfriend's waist, fists reeling back before surging forward again and again and again.

“Shit, Kook! That’s enough, man. You’re gonna fucking kill him.” Taehyung was back, rushing in with a few others, grabbing Jungkook by the arms and trying to pull him away. It took at least three of them to drag him off Jisung.

Jisung was still on the floor, groaning in pain, blood coating his mouth, face already beginning to swell. You just stared, unable to look away, the image of his bloodied, battered face searing itself into your mind. Your stomach twisted violently as bile rose in your throat. Damn it. You were going to be sick all over the Kims’ ten thousand dollar rug.

Jungkook was panting, his chest heaving with the adrenaline and rage still coursing through him. But when his eyes landed on you, all the fight drained from his body. His heart dropped as he saw the look on your face.

You looked so fucking terrified.

“Y/N, fuck,” he whispered, his voice raw as he broke away from Taehyung's grip. He took a slow, hesitant step toward you. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Please don’t cry. Don’t—please.”

But, of course, you were already crying, hot tears slipping down your cheeks uncontrollably. You shook your head, your voice barely audible through the sobs that wracked your chest. “C-can we please go now?”

He nodded quickly. “Of course,” he said softly, surprised you still wanted to leave with him, as he reached out to take your hand. “C’mon.”

The two of you slipped out of the house, pausing to apologize to Taehyung on your way out. Tae just shook his head, the worry in his eyes masked by a small, comforting smile. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice gentle as he wrapped you in a hug. “Just get home safe. I’ve got a couple of the boys cleaning up Jisung. I’ll get an Uber to send his ass home soon.”

Your heart sank as you thought about what this might cost Jungkook—charges, money, a mark on his record that could follow him for years. It made you feel sick just thinking about it.

Jungkook must have seen the panic starting to take root in your expression because he gently squeezed your hand, pulling you toward the waiting Uber before you could spiral further into your thoughts.

“I don’t care about any of it,” he muttered under his breath as you climbed into the back seat. “Jisung’s a dirty piece of shit. He had it coming.”

He helped you settle in before climbing in beside you. As soon as the car started moving, the weight of everything hit you all at once. You leaned into Jungkook’s shoulder, your body shaking with quiet sobs as you clutched his hand in your lap. The sight of his bloody knuckles made your chest ache even more.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

Jungkook wrapped his free arm around you, pulling you closer. His mouth pressed gently against the top of your head, and you felt his warm breath against your hair as he whispered, “Don’t apologize.” His lips brushed softly against you. “None of this is your fault. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“This-this is your tattooing hand,” you whimpered, your tears slipping down your cheeks as you gently cradled his hand. “God, Kookie… I’m so sor—”

“Stop,” he cut in softly but firmly, pulling his hand away from your view before you could spiral further. “It's not your fault, and I don’t care about my hand.” He made sure not to get any blood on you as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you snug against his chest. His face nuzzled into your hair, his hold on you tightening as you sniffled and leaned deeper into his warmth, your arms instinctively curling around his waist.

The rest of the ride passed in silence, the weight of the night pressing down on both of you, but Jungkook kept you close, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your side as he held you.

When the car finally pulled up outside your apartment, you quietly pulled out your phone, making sure to tip the Uber driver 50% before you hopped out. You apologized profusely for being late, your voice soft and exhausted.

The driver barely acknowledged you, grumbling something under his breath that made Jungkook’s jaw clench in irritation. He opened his mouth, ready to snap back, but before he could, you reached back into the car and tugged him out by the hand.

“Give him one star,” Jungkook grumbled as the two of you made your way up the steps to your apartment complex.

For the first time all day, a small laugh escaped your lips. It was quiet, tired, and caught even you by surprise, but it was there. And it was enough to make Jungkook’s heart swell in his chest.

God, he missed that sound so much.

The apartment was quiet when you both finally stepped inside, closing the door on the loud night behind you. For a few moments, neither of you said anything. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, just tired. 

“Do you need to talk, Kookie?” you asked softly.

Jungkook nodded, leaning against the counter, eyes on you as you toed off your boots and lined them up neatly by the door. You straightened his Adidas that had been knocked over, placing them neatly beside your shoes.

“Later,” he muttered, pushing himself off the counter and heading for the fridge. “Needa eat before I pass out.”

You let out a soft laugh, your shoulders relaxing as you watched him pull out the takeout containers. He hadn’t touched his food earlier, and a frown crept back upon your face. You wondered if he’d even eaten anything at all during the day. Your schedules were different most of the week, except Fridays, when you had the same last class. Normally, you'd text him about what you'd eaten and check in with each other, but today had been different. You hadn’t even responded to his text this afternoon.

Jungkook glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a small smile playing on his lips as he noticed you eyeing the food. He had the same thought—wondering if you had eaten today. Without saying anything, he warmed up both bowls in the microwave, letting the quiet fill the space between you.

As the microwave hummed, you stepped closer, gently taking his right hand in yours. The blood had dried, but his knuckles were bruising, and your chest tightened at the sight. Silent, you led him over to the sink, carefully washing the dried blood from his hand. Jungkook didn’t argue or pull away, just stood quietly as you ran the warm water over his skin.

Once the food was ready, he grabbed both containers while you grabbed some forks and napkins and followed him to the couch. You both sat down, pulling the throw blanket over your laps as you settled in.

“We’ll wait until tomorrow to watch Fire Guardians, yeah?” Jungkook mumbled between bites. “Didn’t wanna watch it without you.”

You paused, your hand hovering over the remote as his words sank in. Your eyes lit up a little, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Okay. Thank you,” you said softly, warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of him waiting for you.

You flicked through Disney Plus, finally settling on Grey’s Anatomy. You’d both seen it a hundred times, but it felt comforting in the moment, something familiar. As you sat there picking at your food and letting the soft murmur of the show fill the background, everything felt a little more normal. The chaos of the night faded, replaced with the quiet comfort of home.

Jungkook ate quietly beside you, and every time your eyes met, he offered a small, reassuring smile, as if to say, we’ll be fine. You believed him.

Once the food was gone, you snapped back into practical mode. “Okay, let’s go,” you said, grabbing his hand gently and pulling him up from the couch.

Jungkook huffed but didn’t resist as you led him to the bathroom. “I’m too tired for this,” he huffed, dragging his feet like a child. “Can we sleep, please? Do this tomorrow?”

“You’ll live, Kookie,” you mused, rolling your eyes. “Gotta patch you up before we sleep.”

He sighed, slumping down onto the toilet seat like a sulking kid, but he didn’t fight you. You stood between his legs, grabbing one of your hairties and pulling your hair into a pony before gently cradling his hand as you began to wash the cuts and bruises once more.

He could tell you were being extra careful not to hurt him, the warm water turning pink as it rinsed away the grime, but Jungkook barely noticed. He just watched you, his eyes following every movement as you worked. The scent of your soft perfume, the feel of your gentle, smaller hands on his, the way your brow furrowed cutely as you concentrated.

When you finished cleaning his hand, you pulled out the pack of bright pink band-aids from the drawer and started sticking them all over his knuckles. It was almost comical—his large hand covered in far too many tiny pink band-aids. You stepped back, chuckling at the sight.

“There. All patched up,” you said with a little snort. “Just until we go to the hospital tomorrow, Kookie... Ah, gosh, that’s so sad…”

Jungkook blinked down at his hand, then back up at you, his lips twitching. “S’ok,” he muttered, leaning forward to rest his head against your stomach. He exhaled softly, his warm breath tickling your skin as he murmured, “Tired.”

Your fingers automatically slipped into his hair, gently combing through the messy strands as you cradled his head against you. “I know,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “Skincare, then sleep. C'mon.”

Jungkook groaned but stood up, letting you guide him to the sink. You both brushed your teeth, standing side by side, barely fitting into the small frame of the mirror of your tiny bathroom. Jungkook was taller than the vanity entirely, so his face wasn't visible in the reflection when he stood up straight. You always found that oddly cute.

When it came time to wash your faces, you pumped some of your cleanser onto your hand and offered him some. He took it, following your lead as you both washed up in silence.

As you rinsed off the soap, Jungkook’s gaze lingered on your face—peaceful, serene. Despite everything that had happened tonight, this was the most normal he’d felt all day.

He was in a trance when the words slipped out. "You're pretty."

Your hand froze mid-motion, towel now pressed to your cheek as you blinked in surprise. The corners of his mouth lifted into a soft smile at the startled look in your big eyes, and before you could say anything, he took the towel from your hands. He dried his own face before standing there, waiting for you to continue with the next step of your routine.

Your brows furrowed slightly as you processed his words, that stupid flutter in your stomach returning. Why did he say things like that if he didn’t mean them? Did he mean them?

You recovered quickly, blinking away your thoughts as you offered him a little smile, poking his stomach gently. "You're pretty too, Kookie."

Jungkook let out a quiet laugh, leaning into the counter as you grabbed your moisturizer. You pumped a bit into your hand, holding it out toward him like you always did, waiting for him to extend his hand. But instead, he simply tilted his head as he closed his eyes.

"Can you do it, please? M'tired..."

Your mouth parted in shock before you shook your head with a soft laugh. “You’re such a baby,” you teased, but yet without hesitation… your hands reached up to smooth the moisturizer over his face.

Your fingers were gentle as they glided across his skin, and Jungkook hummed in contentment, leaning into your touch. His skin was cool under your warm fingertips as you worked the moisturizer into his cheeks, his forehead, and along the line of his jaw. When his face shifted slightly beneath your hands, you gave his cheeks a playful squeeze.

"Stop moving," you mumbled softly.

His face relaxed, and you found yourself lingering on the task longer than necessary. But when you noticed that you hadn’t covered his nose properly, you whispered, “wait,” before grabbing a bit more moisturizer. You gently rubbed it into his pretty nose, your touch tender and focused.

When you were finally done, you pulled back and admired your work, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. Without thinking, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. "All done."

Jungkook’s breath hitched slightly, his throat tightening at the feeling of your lips on his skin. He swallowed hard, the touch of your kiss lingering more than it should’ve. It wasn’t unusual for you two to cuddle or exchange small kisses, usually on the forehead or the cheek. He doesn't know why the kiss on his nose felt so… intimate.

Slowly, he blinked his eyes open, watching as you moved back toward the mirror, completely unaware of the effect you had on him.

He stayed still, his eyes following every movement as you massaged the last bit of moisturizer into your own skin, your face illuminated softly under the bathroom light. A comfortable silence settled between you before he broke it.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You looked over at him with the prettiest smile—the real one, not the small, fake smiles you’d been giving him all day. His heart felt full. “Of course, Kookie. I like doing your skincare. You should let me do it more often.”

You don’t need my permission to touch my face whenever you want, he thought. But in reality, said nothing of the sort.

“For everything, I mean,” Jungkook clarified, watching the way your expression shifted slightly, a confused pout forming as you washed your hands. “For dealing with my moods, for always being there for me, for being my best friend, for—”

You spun toward him so quickly, water droplets splashing from your hands. You gawked at him in surprise, and for a moment, panic fluttered in his chest. Had he said something wrong? He hadn’t meant to upset you—

“You consider me your best friend?” you gasped, voice small as tears welled up in your eyes.

Jungkook froze. “Uh, I just—I mean, yeah, well—”

“Oh, Kookie,” you sniffled, closing the distance between you in two little steps, your arms wrapping around his waist. You pressed yourself against him, and it wasn't long before he leaned down, resting his mouth against your head, his hand rubbing soothingly at the nape of your neck. “You’ve never said that before. I’m so happy.”

“Oh,” he mumbled. “Sorry. I thought you knew.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, chin resting on his chest, your eyes still glossy but now with the brightest smile on your face. “Of course I knew, you treat me so well,” you said, your voice gentle. “I just didn’t want to say it out loud in case I scared you off or something...” You let out a small chuckle, your fingers gently squeezing his sides. “You’re my best friend too. I love you.”

Jungkook’s throat tightened. “I love you more,” he whispered as he glanced down at your face—your gorgeous, soft, perfect fucking face. His hand slid up to press your face back against his chest before he did something stupid.

His lips rested back on your hair, and he stayed there for a quiet moment, just taking in the warmth of you. 

Oh, fuck it.

“You love me more than Jimin?”

You giggled into his shirt, your fingers squeezing around his waist teasingly. “I love you more than anyone in the world. Surely you know that.”

His heart soared at your words, bottom lip rolling between his teeth.

He couldn't help himself, okay... "And you're going to live with me forever?"

You glanced back up at him, confused at first, but then smiling at his almost shy question. He pulled back just enough to see your face properly, his thumb gently brushing away the lingering tear tracks from your puffy cheeks. He even swiped under your nose, ridding the moisture there too.

“If you still want me to,” you answered quietly, your voice soft and full of uncertainty.

Jungkook’s chest tightened at the doubt in your tone. How could you even question that? How could the most beautiful, sweet, intelligent girl he's ever met in his life ever feel unwanted?

Hmm… maybe because you made her feel like that, you fucking idiot—

Jungkook cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your cheeks. “I was in such a bad mood this morning, Y/N. I’m so sorry I took it out on you—”

But you shook your head, your hand rubbing up and down one of his arms soothingly. “You’re stressed, I understand now—”

He huffed, his brows pulling together in frustration. “Don’t do that. Don’t make excuses for me being an asshole. You always do that.”

Your lips formed a little pout, and his heart ached at how easily you forgave him. “I did not fucking mean anything of that shit. You are not annoying. You are not too cheerful. You are fucking perfect,” he said, his voice full of raw honesty. “I’m the one who’s fucking impossible in the mornings, but you never say anything… I just—”

Jungkook sighed, brushing his thumb over your cheek again, as if reassuring himself that you were still there. “It will never happen again, Y/N, I promise. If I’m ever in a mood like that again, I’ll just stay in my room and lock the door so I don’t do anything to upset you.” He shrugged, eyes tracing over your face. “Simple.”

A small laugh bubbled from your lips as you reached up to hold his wrists gently. “You’re so ridiculous, Kookie.”

After finishing up in the bathroom, you and Jungkook made your way to your rooms to change into pajamas. You slipped into your usual sleep shorts and t-shirt, rubbing at your tired eyes as you padded back into the hallway to say goodnight to your best friend.

Jungkook appeared from his room at the same time, wearing loose sweats and a black tee, his hair still damp from washing up. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, his hand gripping the frame as he hesitated before speaking.

“Uh… can I… can I sleep in your room tonight?” His voice was soft, so shy and your heart clenched. What a cutie.

“Yes,” you beamed, grabbing his non-bandaged hand and tugging him with you into your room.

You crawled under your blanket as Jungkook slid in beside you, his larger frame making the bed dip as he settled in, pulling the covers up over you both. You curled up next to him, your head sinking into the pillow as your eyes adjusted to the dim light, tracing the faint lines of his pretty face.

“Goodnight, Kookie,” you mumbled, your voice heavy with sleep as your eyes fluttered closed.

There was a quiet shuffling beside you, the bed shifting slightly before his soft voice broke the silence. “Goodnight, angel.”

You barely registered the brush of his lips against the top of your head before you were fully drifting, his warmth lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

Jungkook lay there for a moment longer, his head sinking into your pillow as he exhaled deeply. The smell of you enveloped him, and for the first time all day, he felt his body relax completely, slipping into the easiest sleep he’s had in weeks.

perm taglist: @elinaki92 @parapiop7 @photogenius-530 @vantaebearr @crazy-eight17 @aalisiyahxstar @lovieku @apobangpogirlyyy @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @whoa-jo @kooeuphoria @junecat18 @fr0ggieth1nk @joonwater @myjungkookthighs @nikidream24 @whothefuckisthishoe @4noirre @gaebestie @lllucere @kissyfacekoo @rpwprpwprpwprw @granataepfelchen @yoonstaar @dutifullybeautifulperson @leire-mia @nemelkawar @scorpiochiq @jaebae420 @epsilonx1 @babigriin @nen-nyy @cuntessaiii @wobblewobble822 @alessioayla @angeljmnie @cherryontop33 @nikkinikj @jenniebyrubies @morosisxx @dna-black-and-blue @kimjennie @sabrina6272827 @mila-williamsblog @thexmns-blog @canarystwin @rjsmochii @futuristicenemychaos @lizzikoo

[starkeyisthelastname]

okay y’all, we are jumping into this. pornstar!rafe makes a big decision. ⭐️ (thank you to my bae @oceandriveab for her request and being so patient! 💖 )

He had quite literally fucked you to sleep after storming off set all because he couldn’t get his dick up because he had you on his mind. He knew the decision he had to make and that was one he never thought he would ever do and that quit filming professionally. Even if he hadn’t opened up to you much at all, and he was terrified of confessing his feelings to someone he only had ever fucked, he couldn’t continue on with this career because his addiction was now you.

You should have known better than to answer the door because as you woke up the next morning with a sore body, an empty bed and no sign or explanation from Rafe. You should have expected this and him telling you he couldn’t work anymore because he couldn’t get you off his mind was a bunch of bullshit. He told you from the start he loved pussy too much to ever quit, and you should have stopped falling for him right there. You may been acting on high emotions, but you picked up your phone and began texting him.

Rafe’s phone had been on silent when he had met with his agent and manager. He flat out told them that he was done and they laughed, an amused look on both of their faces. The ‘pussy slayer’ was retiring at 30? There was no way. Everyone knew how much he loved pussy, I mean.. what else was he gonna do? Even if he hadn’t told you much about him, or knew much about you, he knew what he felt for you was enough for him to find a new purpose in life. He knew he said he needed to take baby steps because this was all new to him, but he was tired of the jealousy he constantly felt, the way he couldn’t get you off his fucking mind. He had to show you how he felt and then would let everything fall into place after, it could have been a reckless decision but he didn’t care.

‘I don’t expect a relationship with you, but when you come to my house and tell me that I’m yours just to dip off without any explanation is bullshit Rafe. I can’t do these games with you anymore. You wanna focus on work so bad. Fine. So will I.’

You had blocked him after you sent it, whether it was right or wrong. You didn’t want to, in fact it hurt you to think about Rafe not being in your life. What hurt worse though was how this man had ruined you to the point he never left your mind, that every time he shot a scene with someone else you were filled with nothing but jealousy, and that you couldn’t continue on knowing he would constantly feed you this shit so that he could get a nut in a few times a week. Your insecurities were becoming overshadowed by fear, because you had no idea what Rafe had just done.

You had a feeling you knew who it was by the heavy knocks on your door. You didn’t want to answer and you wanted to tell him to go away. Your own body betrayed you as you began walking over to the door to answer it. He better have a damn good reason on why he was here after his little Houdini act he pulled.

“You wanna block me now?” Rafe asked, stepping through the door without another thought.

You shrugged, arms crossed over your chest as you challenged him. “Why does it matter Rafe? I should have never got my feelings involved with someone who only cares about fucking on camera and getting money from it.” You told him, avoiding his gaze. Maybe it was your own fault because he didn’t know exactly how you felt, but he certainly didn’t make it easy for you. When he whispered sweet shit in your ear it made you feel like you could tell him that you were falling for him. It would then reel back to you being afraid of rejection because he would disappear, or talk about how he loved his career too much to ever quit.

“Do you even know what I was doing? I was firing my agent and my manager because I told them I was done fucking doing porn.” He said, causing your eyes to meet his.

You didn’t believe him. There was no way the man who was obsessed with sex and couldn’t even give you a real reason on why he became a pornstar in the first place had really quit. You laughed, did he really think you were that dumb? “You are lying. You’ve hit an all time low if you think that you can tell me something like that just to fuck me again.” You said with a scoff.

Rafe did a lot of punk shit to try and hide his feelings from you, but this wasn’t something he would joke about. He laughed, shaking his head. “You think I’m lying? I fuckin quit because I love you!” He said, blurting it out before he stopped himself. It was like once he said it, he couldn’t stop the rest from flowing as he continued on. “You don’t understand how hard this is for me! This career is the only thing I have had that has made me feel worth something because I fucked everything else up in my life. This is what made me feel invincible and that I could be somebody. I don’t have anyone else because everyone pushed me away due to my choices. Then I meet you and I don’t even fucking know you, but I feel this insane connection that absolutely terrifies me. It scares me the way I feel about you, and that I really should be taking baby steps. I.. I just can’t though. I don’t want to fuck this up like I did everything else, but… I am fucking in love with you and fucking random girls on camera just to get money isn’t worth losing you over.” He told you.

This was the first time Rafe had ever truly been honest with you and you could read it all over his face. You swallowed the lump in your throat as he stepped closer, taking you by the hands as he pulled you closer. “Let me show you.” He whispered in the softest voice you had ever heard him use. You didn’t know what he meant by that, but there was no way you were turning him away.

No matter how much you loved the brutal sex the two of you shared and we’re sure there was more of that to come, this was an entirely new feeling you both were experiencing. He was being gentle with you for the first time, pouring every ounce of confusing emotions and feelings he had into you. He had you in a deep missionary position, his toned hips grinding into yours as he buried his head in your neck. “You are so goddamn beautiful.” He whispered in a breathy groan.

His cock somehow felt 10 times bigger when he went slow and it was throwing you off at how good this fucking felt. Tears streamed down your face much like the first time he had ever fucked you, but for an entirely different reason. You overwhelmed by love, clinging onto him life a lifeline as you were afraid to let him go. He had ruined you for any other man and right now you were perfectly fine with that. “Rafe… you feel so fucking good..” You whimpered, your eyes rolling back at a little as his tip kept brushing over your g-spot.

Rafe groaned into your smooth skin, his lips traveling across your collarbone and across your jaw line until he met your eyes. He knew he must have really been in love with you because he had never made love and didn’t know he was capable of such a thing. He knew his nasty side was inevitable but he really was determined to show you that he was serious about this.

“Yeah baby, say my fuckin name. That’s yours to say. All yours… my sweet angel.” His words firm but genuine as his lips ghosted over yours. The way you made him feel was better than any drug or any career, and he knew no matter how scary this was for him, you were his girl without a doubt.

The tears flowed even more as he said that, your eyes falling into his ocean ones as his cock explored every inch of you. Your lower tummy fluttered and head spun as you felt an insane orgasm approaching. “Rafe… you’re gonna make me cum. Please don’t stop.. please.” You nearly begged him, manicured nails digging into the skin of his back.

Rafe had always prided himself for being able to go many rounds before cumming. He was so overwhelmed with love, that he knew he was wasn’t going to last long. “I’m not baby, I fuckin got you. Yeah? Cum all over my cock.” He whispered against your lips before pulling you in for a deep kiss.

You couldn’t help but sob at his words, trying your best to focus on the kiss as your orgasm started to take over. You screamed his name, not caring who heard, as this moment was way too important. You shuddered against him, wrapping your legs around his waist to trap him in as his thrusts started to get sloppy. He didn’t know what you had done to him, but he found himself going back to whisper in your ear as he started slowly coming undone. “I’m gonna fuckin fill you up baby, this is all for you..” He breathed out, voice rugged as his nuts tightened and eyes rolled back at your cunt still squeezing him in.

Rafe’s groans were sweet music to your ears as his seed warmed your insides, this time followed by a gentle raspy voice whispering against your skin. “I love you..” He told you, the butterflies hitting your belly and your face breaking out into a beautiful smile.

“I love you.” You whispered back.

Rafe hadn’t said that to someone or heard it back since before he had lost his family. This was the first girl he had ever felt this way about and while the two of you may have been jumping into something that was unclear and had a lot of questions that needed to be answered, he knew this was all worth it.

[inzaynety]

a little, jealousy ⤫

➢ summary: Too much staring and too many comments tick him off. He makes sure he’s the only one you look at.

➢ content: hoshina x fem!reader, 1622 words, nsfw, fingering, oral (f. receiving)/cum eating, manhandling, unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap lol), creampie, dirty talk, possessive hoshina, lwky aftercare

➢ notes: not my source of inspo being gojo smut lmao idk how to do this w/o making it like 10k words so here’s a lite version (and pls read the rules, if you’re under 18 DNI and DO NOT CONTINUE) also if yk who u are, dont read im embarrassed

pt. 1 - pt. 2 of slice & dice - pt. 3

Now this was your own fault. 

Saying anything that enticing was going to get him riled up, not to mention the pressing matter of other men vying for your attention. Well, it was one man and the other was at the wrong place at the wrong time. But it all culminated to one point; it didn’t even take ten minutes to get you from the training room to his office.

It’s not the most comfortable place, but neither of you cared. He’s quick to push off papers and such off his desk before lifting you atop, knowing he’d regret the mess later. But that of course, was later. 

Both of you were frantic in removing each other’s clothes, entangling in a heated kiss as you finally managed to claw off his shirt while separating for the quickest moment. He sighs against your lips when you trail a hand down his chest and once you try to steep lower, he catches your wrist.

“Not yet, sweetheart.” His eyes are dark but you catch a bit of restraint there. Even if you tried to provoke him, no matter what he’d make sure to have an ounce of control. You’re catching your breath when he lifts you a bit to slide off your pants and you hitch at how his fingers press against your aching heat, subconsciously grinding down to his digits. 

Hoshina’s looking at you again, watching intently at your expressions and with a trained eye you know he’s enjoying this bit. You’re not about to give in just yet and return your hands to his neck, caressing the skin at his nape to pull him down. He groans at how you catch his bottom lip as you kiss him again and nip at it. 

“Come on, baby,” you drawl, watching him through your lashes. “I’m getting impatient here.” He laughs at your demand and sits up to run a hand through his hair. 

“You sure you wanna start with me now?”

You narrow your gaze in a challenge and he nods at the wordless challenge. 

In a swift motion your panties are slid off and legs spread open, exposing your cunt to the cool air. You shiver at the sudden contact while leaning on your elbows, trying to hide but he’s holding you in place. Despite knowing it’s not the first time he’s seen you bare, you always feel a little shy. 

It doesn’t help that he has that goddamn look on his face. His gaze is so intense, zeroed in on your most intimate area. 

“Fuck, look at ya. Already wet for me?” Hoshina licks his lips while darting between your eyes and your exposed pussy. At his words comes an embarrassing gush of slick and he laughs at you. “Of course ya are.” 

He readjusts bringing his face down to your puffy lips and brings his thumb to press against your clit. You jerk at the feeling but he doesn’t even try to move it, leaving you with just a little bit of pressure. 

“H-Hurry up, Soshiro!” You demand but you know you’re in no place to rush him. You know it, he knows it. But then you hear him click his tongue before he licks a stripe up to your clit. He stops you from moving with one hand pressing your waist down onto the wood of his desk. 

“Don’t rush me.” He says, glaring at you from his spot. His tone was cold but it contrasted to how he smoothed down his hands on your thighs, coaxing you to relax. The two of you had built up tension up to this point but he’d be damned if he hurt you even a little. Even if he was being a little bit of a jerk. 

You’re impatience mellows just enough for you to nod and watch as he slips a finger into you. Mewling, you reach down and grab at his hair when he immediately finds that spongy spot in you with practiced ease, adding another digit. He doesn’t give you the time to recover when he’s ruthlessly bullying them into you. 

“That’s it, good.” Your whines of his name fill his ears and Hoshina’s can’t help but feel pride. Only he was the one who could do this to you and the only one you would expose yourself to in such a vulnerable state. 

You’re so, so close to cumming now and he can feel it in the way you tighten so nicely. He adds his third finger as more wetness seeps out of you and you lose it, throwing you head back as you cum and right then does he decide to plunge his tongue in, collecting your release into his mouth. He savors the taste and while you try to pull his head back with both hands in his hair, he doesn’t relent and he helps you ride out your first high. 

“Stop ‘shiro, too much!” Hoshina hums, enjoys the sting to his head from your pulling and relishes how your moans taper off when you start to come down. He gives you a few moments, rising up from his position to kiss you and allow you to taste yourself on his lips. It feels so dirty but you can’t get enough of him. 

Hoshina pulls back and smirks, your face morphing to that of concern as to what he was going to do next. Arms come around your body and you’re flipped around on his desk, bent over with your chest pressed to the hard surface and legs spread apart. One of his hands comes down to rub against your core, spreading your release around. Sighing, he watches as he feels his pants tighten. 

You stiffen at the sound of his belt coming off. “Oh? Ya like the sound of that?” He runs the leather against your ass and lightly taps it at the skin, admiring how you jolt. “Naughty girl. I’ll make sure to keep that for next time.” He throws the article to the side with a clang to the shelf while pulling his cock out. 

Even if you’re not seeing it at the moment, Hoshina has always been well endowed. The familiarity of him comes rushing back when he presses the tip to your awaiting hole and you automatically press against him, only held back by the sudden appearance of his hands gripping at your waist. He’s definitely going to leave some marks. 

Now your impatience has caught up. He was being nice only making you cum once, but it wasn’t enough for him to just go at his pace. You needed more. But it could cost a bit. 

“Fucking hell,” you start, trying your best not to shake when he continues spreading more of your come with his cock this time. He raises a brow at your sudden comment, though he doesn’t say anything, “you gonna fuck me or what?” 

Was that a mistake?

It sure didn’t feel like it when he rams into you without warning. You choke on your oncoming words and lose your thoughts as he hits that spot inside you so quickly. He’s relentless in his pace; you don’t feel like you’re breathing. 

“Bein’ a brat now, huh? How’s that goin’ with you gone on my cock?” He spit out, bringing his mouth to your ear as he grabs your face. “Can’t even think straight?” It’s embarassing how he could make you pliant like this. You were a Commander–a position of high authority but this man was breaking all of that down. 

And you loved it. 

“Answer me, sweetheart.” Hoshina’s fucked you too many times for you to know he won’t let you come again without a response. You can’t speak, words coming out in hybrids of jumbled moans and whines, so all you can do is nod and nod. “Who’s makin’ ya lose your mind? Who’s cock is makin’ ya feel so good?”

“You! Y-you Soshiro!” Your answer satisfies him as he knows he’s not too far off from his own release. He picks up his pace, hips slamming against you. Luckily, the desk is bolted onto the floor but your sounds were too loud anyway. 

Hoshina watches as you fall apart beneath him, letting go of your face to bring his hand back to your hips as he chases his own high. You’re shaking again at the feeling of his cum shooting inside you but the warmth brings some sort of comfort, especially when his previously round hands massages the area they had an iron grip on. 

“You’re mine, right?” You immediately confirm with a hum and he smiles at you, giving you a moment to catch your breath while leaning down to pepper soft kisses on your back and nape. In your haze, you know there’s something else behind his words. That would wait until morning.

He whispers sweet nothings against your skin and leaves affirmations in their wake. He moves you again, careful to not separate himself from you too abruptly as he knows how you prefer keeping him inside for a bit longer.

Laying you down, he cages you in his arms with his hands underneath your head to cushion it. Your eyes are a bit unfocused, but he stays watching you till you blink up at him, finally looking into his eyes. 

“Are ya okay, sweetheart?” You nod but he shakes his head. “I needa hear ya say it.”

“Yeah. ‘M okay, ‘shiro.” 

“Good.” He kisses your temple, your cheek, and finally your lips to distract you from him pulling out. He knows you’d be pissed in the morning if you were left a mess after all so he wants to get started on cleaning you up. “Such a good girl f’me.”

©inzaynety 2024

[alchemistc]

He's been good. He's been - pretending to be good well enough that no one has been suspicious.

It's just -

That was it. That was The One.

And sure. He can get back out into the world. He can fall in love again. There is a beautiful man somewhere out in the world who will make him laugh, make him cry.

He's just not sure he wants to put the effort in anymore.

For a hot second he'd really thought -

Not that it matters, anymore.

He's pretty sure his leg is pinned. The cockpit is more smoke than air, at this point. He can feel his toes, but honestly that might be more a curse than a blessing.

He's been staring at the phone in his hand for the last five minutes. Ever since he realized he didn't have the leverage to try to move the bracket keeping him from slipping free of the broken, crunched in door frame.

It's selfish. It's the most selfish fucking thing he's considered since he decided to break his own heart instead of letting someone else.

But logistically he's got about seven minutes until there's too much smoke and not enough air in here, and that's only IF the fire doesn't catch somewhere else.

He's got enough bars. And there are two numbers he could call. Two ways this could go.

The phone rings through four times, and on the fifth, someone answers.

"This is a bad time, Tommy," Eddie says, and Tommy feels a little hysterical. The laughter comes in fits, only slows when he gets a nice good whiff of smoke straight up his nose.

"Sure is."

The tone shifts. "Are you okay?"

"It was a bad idea anyway."

He feels woozy. Glances down at his leg and realizes that stain he'd thought was shadow is... definitely blood.

"Listen. I'm - when Evan gets the call, don't let him go alone. It's my fault for not updating my ICE."

The silence on the other line is deafening. "Tommy, where are you? Don't - don't make any decisions you can't come back from." It's a panned line he'd heard at the VA the half dozen times he'd gone.

"Yeah I didn't really make this decision myself. I'm just - I'm losing a lot of blood, here, and there's not a lot of ways for the smoke to get out of this cabin, and -."

High alert has a very specific sound and feel to it.

Eddie's cursing, something is shuffling, he's snapping his fingers in the distance. God, they're probably at work. "Where are you?"

Tommy rattles off his last known coordinates. "I already told dispatch, Eddie. I'm just. They're not gonna make it in time, and I need you to promise me you won't let him be alone when -."

It'd been a trip he would have been riding shotgun for, if Tommy hadn't made sure he wasn't. He's grateful for that, at least.

He's really not expecting much, he thinks. Eddie doesn't have to go far out of his way to support Buck. It'll hurt him, true. But Tommy's gotten pretty used to being the cause of that. And. He'll be dead, anyway, so he won't have to carry that guilt for long.

And then Eddie betrays whatever vestige of friendship they had left, because it's not Eddie's voice that responds.

"Hey asshole. Do you have enough leverage to break the window?"

He's got a good voice. A little gruff, a little heavy.

Tommy doesn't want this.

"No."

"Actually no, or are you just accepting your fate again without even talking about alternatives."

It's not how he thought he'd go. Dramatic final hour phone call, the end of their relationship as a metaphor for the bleakness of his situation. "I'm sorry, Buck."

He's having trouble focusing his eyes. There's a beat behind his ears that keeps slowing down. He thinks he might be hearing sirens but -

"Evan," Tommy says for the first time in six months. "I'm so sorry, Evan."

He says - something. The tone of it is there, even if he can't quite make out the words.

Tommy blinks. Coughs.

There's a phone in his hands.

Why is there a phone in his hands, he's supposed to be flying a -

He'd crashed it, actually.

Well shit.

Damn.

Eddie's gonna be so pissed if he has to find out second hand that Buck's going to get a really fucking shitty call in a few hours.

He should call.

---

When he blinks open his eyes, he finds his fingers first, nearly has a panic attack when they don't move they way he wants them to, except - oh.

There are fingers interlocked with his.

Tommy follows the line of the arm, even though he knows.

"Sorry," Evan says, and there are tears unshed at the corners of his eyes but he looks mad as hell. "You only get one dramatic exit out of my life in a calendar year."

[archangeldyke-all]

PARAMEDIC SEV MEETING HER WIFE AND SAVIN MG HERRRRRRRREEEEEE

lush i love ur ideas omg

men and minors dni

you never should've agreed to babysit for silco and vander.

so what if it's their anniversary and they haven't had a dinner date all year. it's their own damn fault for deciding to have four fucking kids. you don't know what you were thinking agreeing to this-- but you're certainly paying the consequences now.

claggor hasn't been too bad-- doing his homework at the counter as you cooked dinner, helping you figure out where they store their spices and pots.

mylo was alright in the beginning, but as the night grew on and he started getting tired, he started getting grumpy and irritable.

jinx is always up to trouble-- she's been trying to trip you up all night, cackling each time you barely muffle a curse as you stumble.

and now, you've caught vi sneaking a girl into her room.

"violet, how do you even have a girlfriend, you're ten!" you shout.

"i'm eleven, and cait's not my girlfriend. she's just my bestie. and we practice kissing with each other sometimes." vi says with a shrug.

"what made you think you could have her over here tonight?!" you ask.

vi shrugs. "she comes over every wednesday, dads just haven't caught her yet."

you groan.

"i-i can leave." the posh girl in front of you offers. you heave a sigh.

"no, stay, i can't let you walk home in the dark. i'll drive you home when the old men get back, alright?"

vi grins and slams the door in your face.

you turn around just in time to dodge a shoe flying down the hall. behind you, it smacks mylo in the back of the head.

"what the fuck!" the boy shouts, turning around with a glare. jinx giggles from the other end of the hall. you want to cry.

"please just go to your rooms." you whine.

mylo just growls, grabbing the nearest small object and flinging it back at jinx.

only-- he's grabbed a letter opener, sitting by a pile of mail.

you gasp as the sharp object goes whizzing by your face-- headed straight to jinx's chest.

and before you know what's happening-- you're reaching out and snatching the object out of the air.

for a second, it's silent-- mylo and jinx both shocked by your quick thinking and the dangerous situation you all narrowly avoided. then, jinx shrieks.

"you just tried to kill me!"

"i thought it was just a pen!" mylo defends. "you threw dad's shoe at my head!"

"it was his house slipper! it barely hurt."

"oh, i'm gonna fuckin' kill y-- you're bleeding." mylo says.

jinx blinks, the argument forgotten as she looks over at you.

it takes you a few moments to realize that the kids are talking to you. you blink down at your hand, gasping when you find it covered in blood, trickling steadily onto the floor.

"oh. shit." you whisper. the pain hits you all at once and you take a sharp breath. "oh shit." you whine.

"w-what do we do?" jinx asks. you walk to the kitchen, mylo and jinx following close behind you, both of them nervous and worried about you.

"gotta run it under some water and see how deep the cut is." you whisper, placing your hand under the running tap.

you and the kids wait anxiously for the water to run clear, but it stays consistently red.

mylo cringes. "i think you cut something important." he mutters.

you gulp, the shock and adrenaline of the injury wearing off, leaving you shaky and very aware of how much blood you're losing.

"should i call dad?" jinx asks softly.

there's a shriek in the hall, and claggor comes sprinting into the kitchen, concern on his face. "what happened?!" he shouts.

you grunt. "i caught a knife."

claggor's eyes only widen more, and then he's pulling out his cellphone. "i'm calling an ambulance."

you, jinx, and mylo groan. "no! there's no need for the fuss." you try to argue.

claggor walks over to the sink, gagging at the sight of your hand. "there's a puddle of blood in the hall! and you're still bleeding!"

"'m fine." you mumble, getting a little dizzy. claggor groans.

"mylo, take her to the couch and lay her down. jinx, call dad."

"y'r a good kid." you mumble, ruffling claggor's hair with your uninjured hand as mylo guides you to the living room.

jinx brings you a glass of water as you wait.

you, jinx, and mylo sit on the couch-- your hand held over a bucket to catch all your blood-- watching claggor pace a hole in the carpet.

vi and her girlfriend only decide to see what the commotion is about when an ambulance pulls up out front.

you feel stupid and overwhelmed and your hand really fucking hurts, but you really don't want to cry in front of all your nieces and nephews.

and then, because the universe hates you, the most attractive woman you've ever seen in your life ends up being your paramedic.

jinx answers the door. you want to die when you see the angel standing on the porch. "someone called about a stabbing?" the woman asks.

you chuckle. "let her in jinx." the woman and her partner walk into silco and vander's home-- her eyebrows raising just a bit at the sight of you and the gaggle of children surrounding her. "not a stabbing. a knife thrown and caught." you say.

"really!?" vi asks, just now catching up on the drama of the night.

"yeah, because mylo tried to fucking kill me!" jinx shouts.

mylo groans. "how many times do i have to tell you i thought it was a pen! and you started it!"

you might actually start crying now. you're in so much pain, you're so overwhelmed, and you probably look gross as hell right now in front of this goddess of a paramedic, who's kneeling in front of you with a concerned look as she gently grabs your wrist.

"ran, why don't you take the kids out to the backyard and play a game? give us a little more space to work in here." the woman says to her partner.

ran grins. "you kids like freeze tag?" they ask.

the kids all burst into excited chatter, following ran out to the back of the house. you sigh in relief.

"thank you."

"i'm guessing they're not your kids?" the woman in front of you asks. you laugh, loud and surprised. you suppose it's better than crying.

"oh, fuck no! i'm their aunt, which i don't usually mind, unless it means i have to fuckin' babysit." you pout. "the tallest girl with the blazer on isn't even theirs. caught her sneakin' in to see the redhead. apparently they're besties who practice kissing." you say with a roll of your eyes.

the woman in front of you laughs. "i had a few of those back in the day." you gulp, your eyes bulging out of your head at her words. she looks back up at you with concern.

"does it hurt?" she asks. you blink, not understanding what she's referencing before you finally remember your hand. the hand she's gently cleaning with alcohol.

"you like women?" you ask miserably. the woman in front of you blinks.

"...yes?" she asks. "is that a prob--" you burst into tears before she can continue. "woah-- what, hey! what's happening? does it hurt? are you okay?"

"sorry, sorry!" you cry, waving away her concern and covering your face with a hand. "fuck this is humiliating. ignore me." you cry.

she blinks. "this is the weirdest homophobic reaction i've ever gotten."

you laugh, snot and tears flowing freely as you giggle. "no!" you squeak. "no, that's not-- just fuckin'-- of course you're a hot lesbian. i get all dressed up every weekend and go out lookin' for someone and i get nothing. i cut my fuckin' hand open after chasing kids around all day and the universe sends me the hottest woman i've ever seen. and she's a lesbian. and i'm soaked in sweat and blood and i'm pretty sure i smell like pre-teen armpits." you cry.

the woman in front of you cackles, her pretty silver eyes sparkling as she starts wrapping up your hand. "just a little. but i smell like vomit." she says with a shrug. you giggle and wipe up your tears.

"sorry." you say again. she smiles at you.

"it's okay. you're cute. 'specially now that i know you're into me and not, y'know. a bigot."

you giggle, shaking your head. "don't flirt with me." you scold. the woman beside you laughs.

"you started it!"

"i did not! i was having an emotional breakdown and you were accusing me of homophobia. i don't even know your name!"

"sevika." she says with a sweet smile. "my name's sevika. and, for the record, you're hot soaked in sweat and blood." sevika says with a shrug.

you grin. "do i need stitches?" you ask.

sevika shakes her head no. "it was bleeding a lot, but you didn't cut too deep. just keep the bandages on for a the night and change 'em out tomorrow. you should be healed up in a few days. i'll give you some cream-- if you get infected or irritated, or it doesn't heal; go to the ER."

you nod. "does that mean you're leaving, now?"

she chuckles. "worried about the kids?"

"no, well, now i am now that you mention it." you say. sevika laughs. "i was just..." you trail off.

sevika's just doing her job. she's fucking fantastic at it-- but that's all this is. she kept you talking to keep you distracted, she flirted a bit so the pain wouldn't be so bad, and now she's leaving.

"you were just what?" she asks.

you shrug. "it's inappropriate."

"can't be as bad as the old man who answered his door naked for us earlier today." she says with a shrug. you giggle.

"maybe i could get your number? in case i need help changing the bandages."

sevika grins. "yeah? that's why?" she asks with a raise of her eyebrow.

you giggle and shrug. "and maybe so i can show you how nice i clean up. take you out to dinner as a thank you."

"yeah, alright. i could be into that." sevika agrees.

you grin, then scramble for a piece of paper and a pen, eagerly handing sevika the scrap of paper. she pockets it with a sweet, shy smile.

her and ran take off a few minutes later, and silco and vander get home right after. it takes you an hour to catch them up with the events of the night: informing them of their children's petty feuds, that their daughter has a girlfriend, and that they've got a giant puddle of blood to clean up outside their room. they thank you, and with a promise that you'll never have to babysit again, you finally head home.

it's been a crazy night. you're exhausted. the moment you get home, you crawl in bed, ready for sleep.

but right before you drift off, your phone buzzes.

it's sevika, the hot lesbian.

you grin. another text comes through.

i got this weekend off, wanna treat me to that dinner you were talking about?

you end up staying up the rest of the night, texting the paramedic and giggling like you imagine vi does when she's on the phone with cait.

alright... maybe this night wasn't all that bad...

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion

[pinkmirth]

KEEPER!

SYNOPSIS! ⸻ you’ve fallen for your darling bodyguard, and you’re over the moon to discover that he feels the same. but this feels borderline forbidden . . . for just how long can you keep what you have with reiner under wraps?

CONTAINS⸻ ( 5k+ words of . . . ) bodyguard!reiner x fem!reader (black coded), fluff, nsfw, modern au, scion!reader (descending from a rich family/influential bloodline), hyperfeminine ‘girly-girl’ reader, reiner’s german, mutual pining, secret relationship / sneaky link, public display of affection (pda), food play, car sex (unprotected), slight dacryphilia, creampie, use of pet names ( e.g. mama, baby, honey, princess), reader calls reiner ‘ papa, ’ explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!

MY LOVE LETTER! ⸻ this post is an answer to an anonymous ask: ‘ what about secret dates (turned sneaky links) with body guard! reiner??? ’ oh. my. goodness! nonnie, you’re a sexy genius and you should know it. tagging the amazing @ramonathinks! she’s the one who even introduced this bodyguard!rei-rei concept to me, and for that i’m so grateful :) ramona my love, thank you again for all the delicious reiner thoughts you always send my way! now enjoy, xoxo ♡︎

reiner’s your bulking shadow, never trailing too far behind.

he’s been hired by your parents to ensure your safety. nothing more, nothing less. he’ll follow your every step and drive you wherever you please; after all, it’s what he’s paid to do.

things started off the way they should— professional. from the very beginning, reiner knew to keep his distance, and that he did. but he soon realized just how hard that would become . . . you’re effortlessly gorgeous, sharp with your words and caring to a fault. his growing affection was only a matter of time.

nowhere on the criteria for the job does it say that he should be developing feelings. observing your habits, committing them to memory and predicting your behavior is the only thing he’s got any business doing. yet, he loves to feel the softness of your palm in his hand when he helps you into the backseat of your car, even if the contact is just for a split second at most. he finds himself peeking glances at you from the rearview mirror, soaking in how pretty you look when you’re unaware of his gaze. in truth, reiner wishes you didn’t have such an effect on him; that would make work-life much easier on his poor soul. well, love isn’t known for being simple, now is it?

it takes about four weeks on the job for him to grow a soft spot for you. reiner’s always been a hopeless romantic, oh-so quick to fall. he’d willingly lay down his life for the sake of your own, and not just because he’s getting a paycheck for it. thanks to the job description, his devoutness isn’t questioned.

before long, reiner can tell you’re becoming attached to him as well. on a fateful night, he even overhears the phone call between you and your friend, something about ‘ mister braun being so sexy that it hurts . . . ’ your bodyguard is nothing if not a man of dignity. he never meant to eavesdrop! it’s just that he's stationed outside your room for night patrol. he’s now especially glad about being up at five in the morning; he wouldn’t have been able to hear this otherwise. your confessions pry a subtle grin from his lips. there he stands, smiling to himself in the dimly lit hallway where nobody can see him blush like a schoolboy.

‘ nuh-uh, i can’t! that man works for my parents . . . he’s completely off-limits. it's a damn shame, isn’t it? ’ you release a sigh, one so exasperated that he can hear it through the other end of the door. call reiner crazy, but it sounds to him like you’re yearning to have him all to yourself. in a sudden moment, you're emerging from the room, donned in a tiny pink nightgown. cute, but thin as fuck. leaves nothing to the imagination, even. it’s the flimsiest thing he's ever seen you wear.

reiner’s cheeks burn so red that is downright embarrassing, thankfully you're unable to see him. he’s quick to lift his head and look towards the ceiling instead— much more suitable than ogling the tits of his very own client. you wouldn’t be able to catch him staring regardless, considering how the entire corridor’s tainted with darkness, but he wouldn’t dare try to steal a peek anyway.

what he can see, though, is your leisurely smile as you tell him you’re headed to the kitchen to grab a cool glass of water.

“would you like to escort me there too, mister braun? or can i go do something by myself for once?”

you’re playing with him, he realizes. just mere teasing meant to be absolutely harmless. your voice sounds much sweeter at this hour; soft and casual, coated lightly with fatigue from a busy day’s schedule.

“as long as we’re indoors, you can go anywhere you like, madam.” says reiner, “i’ll be here if you need me.”

you make your way to the refrigerator, prancing down the mansion’s luxe spiral staircase, and reiner’s rampant heart finally begins to calm. he wonders if you’d meant for him to hear you on that call. (by now, he knows just how cheeky you can be; it was definitely purposeful.) nevertheless, he's got a job to keep. neither your mother or father would respond kindly if they were to find out that he's become attached to you, or vice versa. he can hardly imagine playing the boyfriend when in reality, he’s supposed to be making sure nothing suspicious comes anywhere near a mile-long radius of you . . . it’s laughable! he’s sure your parents have more than enough money to make him disappear in the blink of an eye— that chilling fact alone puts him on his best behavior.

reiner decides to conceal it; the way he feels for you. keeps his back straight and arms folded to portray the unapproachable persona that got him hired in the first place. you eventually decide to question him over why he so-often wears that solid expression, ‘ like he doesn’t know how to smile, ’ is how you put it. it’s the very first time that you ever hear him laugh, and you turn out to like the sound. rumbly and full of bass. he couldn’t bring himself to admit that in every waking moment, it takes everything to suppress his smile whenever he sees you.

eight months of being in his company brings you to notice that reiner’s a decent listener. he makes for a great conversation, too. sure, he’s just your bodyguard, but he’s got a good ear and a smooth voice. your talks with him are always so lovely; he gives you the comfort to open up about things you’d never be able to tell your parents. pride washes over him when you admit that he’s the only one you genuinely trust. and in these moments, reiner allows himself to get vulnerable too. he tells you of his love for football as a youth, how he takes combat classes five times a week, and that he’s got tons of sisters, brothers and cousins back home in the countryside. the pair of you are so different that the contrast could almost be considered terrible. though, the longer you stay in each other’s presence, the less you can bring yourselves to care.

you and your bodyguard have grown . . . close, to say the least. the way you’re always latching onto his brawny form seems much more than friendly, especially to your parents. ‘ i feel secure with him! ’ is your claim. they’d beg to differ, but your wellbeing is enough to keep them satisfied. reiner excels at his job, and more importantly, the big blonde lug makes you happy. nobody they’ve hired in the past was ever able to get in your good graces; you utterly hated all your former bodyguards. they were much too controlling, lingered too close.

but mister braun was able to differentiate himself. he listens to your dreams and fears alike, treats you like a capable woman instead of some spoiled brat. it also doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly easy on the eyes . . .

reiner can no longer take it. the woman of his dreams is right in front of him, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. the smoothest advance he can make is standing at your right side and slinking an arm around your waist, with claims of it being for your ‘protection.’ but the both of you know it’s only the proximity he’s chasing after. the way he looms beside you was always more self-indulgent than it was for safety. he just liked the closeness of it all.

he feels so much for you, and he’s virtually dying to tell you. but there’s countless reasons why he shouldn’t— particularly the risk of losing his job. every now and again, reiner chooses to be a little bit stupid, all consequences be damned. he works up the nerve to release his confession with slow and careful words. you quickly reciprocate, arms thrown around the back of his neck and tugging him into a cozy hug. he takes you by the waist and pulls you closer in— god, he’s been wanting to do this for so long. reiner hums when your manicured fingers ghost his nape, nails grazing the ends of his hair, with your tits pressed to his own chest. the pair of you fit better than he ever could’ve imagined.

you don’t know whether to call yours and reiner’s relationship ‘ official ’ — can it really be deemed as such when you’re the only ones who know? you dare not mention this to your parents, ‘cause he’s got a job to keep and you couldn’t possibly bear him not being around.

so, you’ve both decided that it’ll be a secret. shared only between you and him, so nobody’s able to intervene. dating your bodyguard is fun— brief kisses being shared when you’re the only ones in the room. the way he snugly hooks his arm around your body when escorting you feels tighter, a little more intimate. in a way, keeping things under wraps feels exhilarating.

your particular relation with mister braun isn’t verified to the outside world, but people are catching on. whenever you go out, reiner’s sure to follow. paparazzi-taken photos of you are occasionally uploaded to the internet, and it’s always a given that he’ll be included. after several months of being seen together time after time, it’s typical of people to assume that this so-called ‘ bodyguard ’ of yours is more of a boyfriend. they aren’t too far off, but you clearly won’t go out of your way to confirm their suspicions. you’re always captured in a picture of you clinging onto his burly arm with a glossy smile. your sweet expressions contrast nicely with his forever-furrowed brows. he’s handsome in this intimidating way, the tabloids say.

it’s a slow-moving thursday when reiner decides to take you on your first date with him. he waits a good hour and forty-five minutes for you to get ready. he’s used to this, of course. by now, he’s got nearly a year’s experience of waiting on you hand and foot. but tonight, his nerves get the best of him. you finish up when he least expects you to— for fuck’s sake, you even catch him pacing in the goddamn kitchen. the sight of you melts his concerns, just a little. you’re done up glamorously from head to toe, and reiner can’t contain his smile, nor hold back his stare. your light lashes are curled and wispy, with blush scattered along your cheekbones. your plush lips are pink with tint, and you’ve got on this figure-hugging outfit that he’d love to tear off of you.

you scan your surroundings, peering at every angle of your spacious home in search of your parents. after ensuring the coast is clear, you engulf him in your arms, wishing you could kiss him but you’re all dolled up and your lips are lined and glossed. reiner nuzzles his nose into the crook in your neck, inhaling faint traces of your most beloved vanilla parfum.

“god, you look so fuckin’ beautiful,” his whisper is soft against your warm flesh. you rub your hands along his broad shoulders, then slide them down his firm biceps. “and you look sexy in black,” you perk up at him, eyes round and gleaming. he loves you, he’s come to realize. and the last thing he wants is to screw this up . . .

he’s thinking too damn much. you can easily tell. it’s obvious in the way his thin blonde brows wire downwards like something’s wrong.

“reiner . . . stop it.” you order, voice serious. you only ever speak that way when you want his utmost attention. to that, he fixes his posture and stands tall as if he’s on patrol.

“stop what?” is his vague response, hands loosely positioned at either one of your hips. you lift your palms to cup his face, feeling the definition of his high cheekbones and firm jawline beneath your fingertips. he’s gorgeous, you think.

“for one, you’re clenching your teeth,” you mention, caressing his rigid jaw line until the tightness lessens. his stubble’s rough and scratchy, but it fits him so damn well. “and you’re frowing, baby.” next, your thumbs trail up to his brows, gently kneading at the creased arch. “relax.”

“m’sorry,” reiner lets out, tone low and pleading. his hands rub at your sides in an anxious pattern. “it’s jus’ that you’re so important to me . . . i wanna do this right, y’know?”

“i bet you will, rei. no need to worry, hm?” you shoot him a soft smile, and he returns it; one of the rare times you catch a glimpse of his nice and shiny teeth. “now show me a good time, papa.”

right before taking your leave , your parents have questions for you— almost too many. you don’t have any business meetings or mall trips on your schedule, so where on earth is he taking you to? rei-rei claims that he’s bringing you to a new restaurant that you’ve been meaning to try. he’ll drive you there and stay on patrol; or so he says. they decide not to question the unusually neat way his blonde hair is slicked back, or how his black dress-shirt and slacks look sharper than usual. hell, he smells amazing too. it can’t be denied that mister braun cleans up nicely.

see, reiner told a partial truth to your family. you’re on your way to a new german restaurant that’s about twelve minutes out, it’s just that you wanted to try it out with him in particular. on the drive there, you just can’t seem to restrain yourself from gazing at the man. reiner looks so put together like this, in a strapping black outfit that‘s snug against his arms, chest and thighs. his side profile’s flawless— he’s got a perfectly defined nose that slopes down to his lips, and you yearn to lick on his protruding adam’s apple. he’s got one hand on the wheel, merging into lanes and making u-turns, while the other that’s unoccupied intertwines with your softer, smaller one.

upon reaching a red light, he takes the opportunity to lift your hand up to his face, trailing his lips along the back of it. “lieblich . . .” he murmurs something in his native tongue that you can’t seem to understand, though you know its meaning is a sweet one. your grin makes him forget all about the risk he’s taking.

upon reaching your destination, reiner’s back in bodyguard-mode. that’s how he gets whenever you’re in public. yes, you’re on a date, but your safety will forever be his number one priority. he escorts you in with a large hand fit snugly into the small dip of your back as he confirms the reservation. his touch never leaves you, not even for a second. he does that thing; where he takes a brief one-over of the area, scrutinizing his environment before making the next move. you go one, two, three stories up, to the VIP floor where your dinner seats reside.

it’s a lot, he knows— the velvet floors, fancy cream-white seats and glass-like walls that showcase an aweing view of the city. you’re more than used to the finer things in life, so the only thing he wants to give you is what you deserve.

you’re raving on about how nice everything looks, leaning back into your seat as you sip on a flute of sheer-pink rosé. he’s relieved to know that he was able to make you smile tonight. a waiter presents themselves, and reiner effortlessly engages with them in german conversation. his words are smooth and fluid as he translates all the entrée and sides you asked for. even when placing a simple order, he’s still the sexiest man on earth. would now be a bad time to kiss the hell out of him?

the next three hours go by quick. you’re chatting and laughing and trying bits of each other’s platters ( though, it's mostly you eating a over half of the food from his plate . . . ) you got yourself salted-caramel ice cream for dessert, and reiner’s mischievous enough to lean close and lick the dripping residue off the corner of your lips. you gasp at him and deliver a playful kick to his foot from under the table.

“what? you had somethin’ there.” is the given excuse for his rascal behavior. naughtiness twinkles in his golden-brown eyes. there aren’t many people up here on the expensive floor, apart from two other occupied tables located on the other end of the room, and a handful of waiters that leave the kitchen every now and again. he’s lucky there isn’t anyone to catch you both.

“you’re crazy,” your laugh is infectious, “don’t make me return the favor.”

in a quick motion, reiner swipes a finger into the ice cream, his touch meeting a subtle cold. before the caramel gets the chance to melt all the way down the length of his digit, he smears some across his bottom lip. his tongue juts out to lick up the rest of the treat from his index finger.

“oh, please do.”

being away from probing eyes has made reiner bold as ever. you take him up on his request, tilting forward so that your tongue can eagerly swipe over his lips and wipe them clean. mostly sweet, just the tiniest bit salty. you want more of him already.

there’s isn’t a soul watching, so reiner escalates it. in an instant he’s got your lips merging, his hand squeezing your thigh from under the table, hot puffs of air escaping you both. “oh my god— you’re g’na get me in trouble, rei!”

“so be it,” reiner mumbles in reply, his words ticklish against your lips. from underneath his fingertips, reiner senses how tightly you press your thighs together, hungry for friction. he’s even beginning to feel worked up himself. but, the pair of you haven’t gone that far yet. the most you’ve done are hour-long makeout sessions on your king-sized bed in the earliest points of the day, when you have enough privacy to get away with it. but you wouldn’t mind feeling him in a new way tonight . . .

“you wanna get out of here, don’t you, mama?” reiner coos, cheeks rosier with his eyes slightly lidded. “mhm,” you’re quick to agree. so he puts the payment for the meal on his tab, takes your hand in his and leads you back down to floor one until you’re out of the building and back inside your window-tinted g-wagon.

mister braun is big. you’ve always known it from his appearance alone, but fuck, it holds a much greater meaning when he’s got you tucked into the backseat of your mercedes with his slacks pulled down to his ankles and your dress strewn sideways, making a slow attempt to press himself into you.

“fuck. let me in, princess,” reiner’s grunt is low, throaty enough to make you clench. your flesh feels hot and your pussy’s leaking all over the coffee-brown suede seats. he knows well enough to play around with your clit, reveling in the noises you make when his pressure increases. simultaneously, his lips suction at the smooth flesh of your neck. it feels like you’re burning up, and he’s the only one who can quench your fire.

experimentally, his hips tilt forward, and another two inches make its way in. he’s only got his fat tip and then some past that dripping hole of yours, but it’ll take much more to stretch you wide open for him. he’s groaning and muttering all sorts of profanities— about how tight you are, how good you feel, how fucking nasty this is of you.

“c’mon, woman,” reiner sucks a sharp breath into his lungs, goading you on, “lemme fuck this tight pussy.” he’s got you dangerously aroused, done by the effort of a few dirty words. wetness dribbles down from your slit to the place you and reiner carnally join, slicking up his girthy shaft as he continues to break himself past your tight rings of muscle. you claw at his solid arms, basking in the stretch. his size is imposing, forcing you open to accommodate all of him. it burns in the best way possible.

“m—more, papa,” you make out a pretty whine, knowing just how he loves your begging. you’ve got your lips agape, kissed raw from reiner’s earlier advances. you grow restless and begin to rock your hips, aching to take the entirety of him.

“mm, don’t worry, baby. i’ll give it to you so good,” it takes a little more of reiner bucking his pelvis, movements careful and shallow, for him to finally make it in. he’s bottomed out, and you can feel the throbbing from his underside. having you wrapped around him feels so incredibly right. you clench rapidly, enveloping him in an incomparable warmth.

by the time he’s made everything fit, you’re a darling little mess. your hair’s gotten frizzy and your eyes are all big ‘n glassy, with your lower lip tucked underneath your teeth. one moan after another escapes you, streaming into his ears like liquid gold. reiner throbs at the sound of every little mewl. he licks away your tears which you hadn’t even known began to fall, catching them before they can roll down the apples of your cheeks. you love the feeling, it’s just that there’s so much of him to handle at once— his fat cock, searing-hot tongue, large roaming hands . . . he's this close to consuming you whole, and you want him to.

reiner’s attentive with the way he fucks you. out, in, the pattern goes, hips drawing back before he slams back into your shaking frame all over again. he hits so unbelievably deep every time, like the width of him can’t help but prod against every spot you have. he manages to stimulate every inch of your walls, bumping every crook and ridge possible. not a part of you goes unattended to. reiner dips his head low to catch your beaded nipple between his lips, while his cock drives further inside and impels you to make more room, just for him.

as gentle as he may try to be, reiner’s undeniably a hefty man. taking it slow won’t make any difference; every deep plunge he makes into your cunt has the car creaking on its very own wheels.

“i fuckin’ love you,” he drops the heated words, punctuated with drilling thrusts; but the dick’s got you goin’ all dumb on him. it’s cute, he can’t deny, but reiner needs you to know exactly what you mean to him. so he grips at your chin from either side and lightly squeezes your cheeks together, tender with care but steady enough to make your eyes uncross and focus on him alone.

“you hear me? i— goddamnit, love you more than anything. love you so much,” the deeper he pushes in, the less you can manage to breathe. you feel the pulsing of his cock in your tummy, and it’s like the tip snags so deep that it nearly lingers in your throat. you feel yourself bounce against the seat, tits jiggling whenever he sinks inside, draws out, and snaps right back into you. your gut feels tightly wound up, and your pussy’s become impossibly more sensitive.

you’re close, he can feel it. your walls flutter with more ardor than before, squishing against the base of him with a tightness gratifying enough to spur moans from deep within his chest. you even bring your hands down to claw at his asscheeks, firm and round to the touch; the perfect source of leverage.

“r— reiner!” you cry out to him, and he’s sure his name hasn’t sounded so good up until now. he wonders if you can actually hear yourself and just how slutty you sound. “you’re close, aren’t you, baby?” to that you nod, head bobbing desperately. you don’t have to tell him, he knows. reiner’s knowledge is keen on the topic of you. what you like, what you don’t, and when you’ve had enough. now he’s truly taking his sweet time getting to know you from the inside out.

he presses a consoling peck to your forehead, maintaining that undoing pace of his. the repetitive ‘plat’ of his heavy balls smacking into your sticky cunt is dull compared to the huffing, panting and whining, but it’s there in all its vulgarity.

“ooh, i know exactly what y’need, princess. papa’s g’na take care of you . . . ” reiner doesn’t even say it above a whisper, just declares his devotion in the softest way he can. he slips a hand down the middle of your sweat-streaked bodies to bring some attention back to your precious clit, lewdly slick and much puffier than earlier. he gives swift strokes using the pads of his fingers, combined with the fluid roll of his hips, until you're arching into his broad chest and snapping your quivering thighs closed, trapping his wrist in between them.

reiner can unravel you with such ease, like he lives for the sole purpose of your pleasure and nothing else. you convulse against him, so he slows. but reiner hardly lets up. not completely, that way he’s able to ride you through it. he continues on, feeding you shallow thrusts to near his own high. his movements turn borderline erratic; thighs trembling, cock throbbing. he’s so close, “gonna cum,” his warning comes off as a groan, straight from the depths of his gut, erotic and primal. he’s clenching his teeth again— this time, for good reason. “where do y’want me?”

not a second is wasted before you plead, ‘ inside! ’ and with that, you’ve officially fucking broken him. never did he think his wildest dream would’ve come true by the very first date. lucky mister braun, getting to fill you up— especially when it’s what he’s been stroking himself to the thought of every other night. now, you’re practically crying for him to give it all to you. undoubtedly, he will.

he comes through one final, sloppy jerk of his hips. with a breathy grunt released into the car’s stuffy atmosphere , his warm seed spurts into you, tainting your womb. once reiner slips out, his thick cum pours down to present the most obscene view. it’s all so slippery, seeping down until there’s a wet puddle of your and his making beneath your ass. reiner’s body goes lax, thoughtfully balancing himself over you with his face propped onto your boobs. it’s only now that he realizes, legs cramped up, that he’s a bit too large for the backseat.

“ . . . i meant what i said earlier.” reiner’s voice comes off muffled, with his face stuffed between your tits and all. he looks adorable this way, gazing up at you with his lips curled into a slight pout. his arms loop your waist, snug and secure.

“mm, you said a lot of things earlier,” is your soft laugh, recalling his crude mouth and how worked up it made you. he allows you to rake your nails through his short blonde fringes.

“applying for this gig is the best thing that’s ever fuckin’ happened to me,” reiner makes an attempt to sit upright and show his conviction, but he ends up with his back hunched over in the restrictive space. he disregards his comfort and reaches for your hands, clasping them in his own. “i said that i love you . . . and i mean it.” his words are airy. he’s still winded from the sex.

“and i love you,” you mean it, too. with all your being. you love him in a way you've never loved anybody else. mister braun keeps you safe, sprinkles you with compliments, slips on your heels for you, puts you first. he makes you feel like this pairing has a chance, like you don’t have to hide it. besides, he deserves your all. you should be proud to call him yours, and that you are.

reiner always wants your kisses. in the morning when you wake, right before dinner, and as you’ve recently discovered, after sex too. you’re always eager to receive his lips pressed to yours. “i love you,” reiner adds in between pecks. he now says it like it’s second nature— he loves you. it makes your heart leap from beneath your chest. he kneads your bare thighs in his palms, slowly gliding his tongue into your mouth. without shame, you moan against his lips. slivers of spit tether you both even after you part.

“i want everyone to know that we belong to each other, reiner . . . my family, too.” you admit, peering up at his handsome face through your curled lashes. you’ve got your hands planted at his chest, feeling at the solidity of his pecs.

“tonight?” he asks, tone unsure.

“yes, tonight, rei!”

he adores your sudden zeal for honesty. he truly does, but—

“maybe another day would work better, princess,” reiner muses, “when your parents wouldn’t kill me for all those hickeys on your neck.”

©PINKMIRTH! . . . all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ୨୧

[a-b-riddle]

You're not her...

I've been seeing a good bit of fics where the reader is left for another woman and people around them are encouraging it. While I do love a good angst, I would simply pass away. Your girl, Riddle, is weak.

Especially if it's my baby boy Simon.... I can't. I love the idea, but as someone who is an absolute crybaby, I wouldn't survive being reader...

So what if that happened to nurse reader's partner left them for a fellow recruit and when everyone starts being like "good for him", the 141 isn't having any of it?

The others on base seemed honestly happy that your heart had absolutely been broken. I mean, you weren't exactly around him as much as she was. You couldn't see the undeniable chemistry there was. You had tried to put on a brave face. But when John had come in for some ointment for a burn and you were falling apart, he gathered up his boys.

Something needed to be done. A point to prove not just to you or your ex or that woman who had chosen to pursue a very much taken man, but to the hold damn unit. Your ex didn't leave you because there was someone else. He left you because he didn't deserve you in the first place.

In hand to hand, Johnny doesn't hold back. Not only does your ex absolutely get his ass handed to him on the mat over and over again, but does it in front of his new girl and everyone else. How embarrassing. Doesn't exactly help that Kyle is on the sidelines talking so much shit that she begins to get the ick. I mean, could he not honestly win one match? Wonder what that says about a man who can't even hold his own? It even gets cringier when your ex tries to place the blame on the drills from yesterday with a certain Ghost.

Simon is already hard as a lieutenant. But add in the factor that the recruit he currently has running drills is the same recruit who hurt his favorite little nurse? The boy would be lucky to crawl out of there. The second an exercise or drill is not made to absolute perfection, Simon has him running it all over again. It almost

John is already starting the transfer papers the first time he catches your eyes the least bit misty. You don't have to see that rubbish and since the prick and slag couldn't have the decency to wait until he had broken up with you properly instead of telling you that even though he was with you, he had fallen for another woman, then they'll be sent to completely different units. John lists the reason for transfer as a liability. If they were so proud of their "love" before, let them keep that same energy.

And Kyle.... Sweet shit talkin' Kyle. Who plants seeds around the entire base. Nowhere are these two lovebird safe from judgment. All of the female recruits have ostracized their fellow female soldier while receiving lewd looks and calls from the males. I mean if she was easy enough to fuck a taken man, then she must be an easy lay. And here comes Kyle, telling your ex 'man-to-man' about seeing his girl with other officers. Kyle is the most gentle when it comes to the 141. But the motherfucker knows a thing or two about psychological warfare.

After your ex and the girl are suddenly, very mysteriously sent elsewhere, everyone starts flocking to you. Offering reassurances on what a bullet you dodged. How, from what they heard, they had broken up shortly after being relocated to separate bases. The boys see your confidence creep back in. Your smile is a little brighter. A little more pep in your step.

You wouldn't tell anyone how your ex had e-mailed you. Complaining about the new base. Explaining how he had ended things and just wanted you back. How he regretted ever letting her get to him, as if she were the only one at fault for kindling the relationship.

It also didn't help that a certain member of the 141 had come by your station, wondering if you wanted to grab a drink when you were off of your shift.

[rukunas]

The classroom feels awfully small.

Gojo Satoru stands far away from you, leaning against the opposing wall stiffly with hands in his pockets. His blindfold is down, a rare frown twisting his lips downwards. His hair is a mess, a clear indication of the utter frustration he’s in. Despite the distance, the tension between the two of you is palpable, suffocating.

He’s absolutely livid.

Deservedly so. You should have listened to him and stayed out of his fight but you didn’t. Now you have to simply stand there like a goddamn Special Grade Sorcerer and take whatever he’s about to throw at you.

Who knew a fight with a low level, shape-shifting curse would cause all of this.

You swallow the knot in your throat, preparing for a half-hearted apology. “I’m so—”

“You—” He straightens himself, finger pointed out in accusation, “—had one job. I asked you to stay out of my way— no, I ordered you to stay out of my way. And what the hell do you do? The absolute fucking opposite. Do you ever think before you act?”

Gojo’s eyes narrow deeper, the sharpness of the glare hitting you right in the chest and making you flinch. Ouch. “What makes you think you can make the rules? Have you forgotten that I outrank you? I—”

“Do not pull rank with me.” You snap. So much for just standing there and taking it. “You know damn well I am just as strong as you are.”

“Special Grace Sorcerer doesn’t mean that you’re the strongest.”

“Oh, you mean like Suguru?” Low blow, but the ripple of emotion against Gojo’s face is satisfying. It’s the same slack look he had twenty minutes earlier, when the curse morphed into the figure of his best friend.

“Don’t say his name. You don’t get to say his name.”

You can’t help the bitter laugh that bursts out of your lips. “You weren’t the only one friends with him, Satoru. And you froze. So, yeah, I’m fucking sorry for fighting your battle for you.”

“You were reckless and out of line.” His voice stays level, refusal of letting his anger get the best of him. The throbbing vein in his forehead says otherwise. “I have to pull rank if you choose to act like one of my students.”

Rage makes the vessels of your face pop. You try opening your mouth but nothing comes out, your face is too hot, too hurt.

Satoru keeps going. “I fight alone. This was my battle, and you are too stubborn to understand that. So why don’t you focus on your own missions so I can do mine?”

“Fine.” You shake your head before turning to leave. “Fight alone, stand alone, be fucking alone. My fault for thinking that you might not like to be by yourself all the time.”

You walk out the room, the thump of your own heart loud in your ears, leaving Satoru alone with his own shadow.

[sweetimpurity]

☽༓･˚⁺‧͙ day 11! yayayy! I blacked out for this one 🥵

wc: 2.2k cw: bondage, breeding ;) enjoy!! ☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

“Shit…” He sighs. Running a hand through his hair, the talons peeking out slightly. They’ve been coming out and going back in all day, little pin pricks aching at his fingertips. Sensitive when he touches anything, pissing him off. Like he can’t control it. He’s been cooped up in his office all day. 

“Lyla. Update.” He demands in monotone, brow furrowed and focusing on the levels and charts on the holographic screen in front of him. The hovering pixels refresh as the levels increase and decrease. Numbers calculating. “They’re on their way back… just finishing some cleanup.” She replies. Hovering over his desk before settling, ‘leaning’ on a coffee mug from a few days ago. He hasn’t done anything, hasn’t eaten or drank anything since you left on that damn mission three days ago.  He should have remembered. That this specific time would have him aching for you. And now you’ve been gone. It’s his own damn fault and he’s been beating himself up over it. Feeling heavy, feverish, angry. He’s been tracking his levels every hour. Hormones and brain activity. Why must his warped genetics plague him in this way?

“Lyla I…I thought the serum was supposed to help…” He sighs, brow twitching, eyes closing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “It will… but you only took one dose. It’ll be more effective after a few more.” She replies. Watching him with a raised brow. His behavior. 

He sighs again, a slight growl in the back of his throat. Pacing back and forth on his platform and crossing his beefy arms, like trapping his restless hands under them. Finally sitting down in his chair. His legs spread wide. It’s the only way with the pressure in his loins. With the need to be released. He’s in rut. As embarrassing as it is. And you’re not here. It’s like the perfect storm. 

“Oh- just landed…” Lyla chirps, popping up by him and displaying the portal chamber surveillance footage right in front of his face. Too close to his face, lighting his angry features up in a yellow glow. “Lyla!” He growls, trying to grab at her pixelated form. His hand went right through. But his eyes finally land on your form. Walking through the main portal alongside some other spider people. The team he sent you with. You’ve just entered the building and he can already smell you. Your pheromones. You’re floors and floors down and he’s already getting hard. The pressure in his suit tightening. “Lyla. Go.” 

She giggles. Floating around, teasing him. She’s all too familiar with his behavior by now. She puts up with so much. “Have fun, bossman…” She snarks, her hologram dissipating in front of his frowny face. A huff of relief leaving him once she’s gone. Leaving him alone. Waiting for you. 

He groans. The ache. His cock hard and hurting for you. Glancing over his shoulder at the door. Not yet. His hands go down, cupping his erection, only to whine softly at the pain he inflicts. Just the smallest of touches and he’s keeling over in his desk chair. “Ay… Fuck…” He sighs. Sharp canines biting down hard on his lip.

“Heyyyy!” Your voice breaks through the silence of his office. Your scent is stronger than ever when you push the door open. The stimulation goes straight to his dick, like it’s begging for your heat. Begging to be soothed in your slick warmth. Desperate to fill you up. To mate. To breed you. 

“Oh my god, you should have seen me out there… I was pretty good if I do say so myself… got the bad guy and all that. Even got a few common crooks while we were staking out…” You explain, jumping up on his platform. Bringing the box of equipment to his desk and setting it down. It’ll need to be cleaned and assessed. Some pieces to be fixed before they go back in rotation. 

His eyes darken. Watching you walk by. He’s glad you’re back. Of course. He loves you. But his mind isn’t on that right now. Right now he’s thinking about how good you’d look swollen and full of his babies. Full of his cock. Dripping with his potent seed. 

“Ben was a perfect alternative, he stepped in and really helped us out… Peter thought so too…” You keep going. Going over everything that happened over the past few days. “That’s… good…” He manages to say. His voice low and hushed, a croak. Watching your back, your ass. Moving from behind the chair, standing a few feet behind you now. He swallows hard. 

You glance up at his screens. He must have been busy as always. Keeping himself busy. Your hands slow down as you place machinery pieces on his desk from the mission supply. Spider senses tingling. 

In a matter of seconds, he’s pressing up against you. His chest against your back and his nose burying in your hair, in your neck. Inhaling your scent. His hearing picks up on the rise in your heart rate. The way you react to him. 

“Missed me, hm?” You hum, smiling and leaning into him. 

“More than you know…” He huffs. Pressing himself into your ass. Letting you feel just how needy he is. Your suspicions were correct. It’s that time again. Your senses never let you down. 

“That’s good because I missed you…” You whisper. Coaxing him. Leaning your head back on his shoulder. Letting him grind into your ass. Rubbing his erection into the soft plushness. And you hear the releases of breath from his lips, like he’s been pent up so long. “I love you…” He whispers by your ear. One of his big hands wrapping around, splaying across your tummy, imagining himself burying deep, all the way to your womb. 

“I love you too…” You can’t help but smile, rubbing back against him, hearing the slight hiss at the back of his throat. “Remember that…” He hums, something of a warning. The words stir something inside you. And you know what’s to come. This kind of fuck only comes once in a blue moon. Because normal Miguel would never allow himself to be so cruel. 

“Remember.” He hums in your ear. Turning dials on his watch this whole time. Smashing the screen and your suit instantly retracts. The confrontation of the cold on your skin makes you shiver. It’s too much for him. Your scent is stronger than ever. His dick leaking and crying to be inside you already. A strong hand on your back pushes you down to the desk. Tits smooshing and tummy contracting on the cold glass surface. A shiver and gasp filling your body. His hands work fast. White stringy webs leaving his wrists. Letting them bind and wrap around you. Working them around your torso, across your breasts. His webs, decorating your skin, wrapping you up. He wraps them around your wrists like ropes, only stronger, harder to break. Beautiful web designs scatter along your arms, wrapped around your body like a fly in a spider’s web. Like you’re the spider’s final meal. A loud thwip and he’s mounting webs on two opposite walls, letting it connect to your arms and spreading them wide. You can’t escape, you can barely move. Hanging, dangling, ever so slightly. With only the desk under your belly for support. But then there’s his hands. 

His big warm hands, suddenly bare of his suit. His dark tanned skin, fingers running up your hips, down your ass and delivering a gentle smack. Making you whine. Your pussy aching for him at this point. And he can smell it. He can smell your slick, he can almost taste it in the air. Like a drug he knows by taste alone. It’s taking all his willpower not to pound into you just yet. But the rut does not cloud his judgment to that extent. He could never forget that he loves you and would never dream of hurting you. Tying you up in his webs, that’s a different story. 

His hand wraps around, fingers running up your slit, parting your folds and collecting your slick on his fingers. Bring the fingertips to his mouth to wet them further, tasting you and groaning. “Oh baby- fuck so good… so so good…” He mumbles, his hand going back down between your thighs and running along your slippery sex. His fingers teasing your hole before plunging inside. Making you shiver and shake. Pulling on the webs you’re restrained in. One finger, then two. Dripping down his fingers and onto the desk. His hormone levels are off the charts. His mind going crazy. Wanting to come. Wanting to spill his seed but needing it to be inside you. He won’t waste it. He needs to get you pregnant.

“Oh Miguel!! Ah! Mm-ngh…!” His fingers work their magic, bringing you to glorious orgasm. Your juices dripping down his knuckles as you moan and whine. The webs straining and tensing under the pressure of your pull. Panting for breath, your knees pulling up and hitting against the edge of his desk. Bent over, tied up and needy for more. 

When you come down from the high, his fingers pull free. Bringing his fingers to his lips. He’s quiet. In a trance. Hazy and half gone and he hasn’t even gotten to the good part yet. His eyes flutter and roll back at the taste of you on his tongue. Sucking on his fingers ravenously and you can only hear the sucking sounds mixed with his groans. Crimson eyes blowing wide, bashing his watch for his suit to disappear entirely. Instantly grinding his hard, pulsing dick along your puffy pussy. Teasing his tip around your entrance and sucking on his fingers like it soothes him. Pacifies his ache even a little bit. 

“Baby- babe you want… I want- you’re so good, baby, taste so good…” He murmurs incoherently, whining. Pushing his cock through your folds, up to your clit, making your toes curl, knees drawing up. Wrapping your hands around the webs binding you. “Ngh just take it all, okay? I’ll fill you up and-and… and… Dios…ah, te amo tanto… no puedo vivir sin ti…” He whimpers. The softness of your pussy against his needy tip makes him crumble. Keeling over and pressing his mouth to your shoulder. Massaging his dick through your slick. Savoring the feeling for a moment longer. “Ay mami…” 

He bites down on your shoulder. Using his fingers to guide his cock to your core and slipping in. His brain short circuiting at the tight wet pressure. “Fuck!” He growls, instantly spurting hot white. His voice hoarse and needy. Grabbing your hips in the front and pushing in all the way to the hilt. Pushing you up the desk, the webs straining as your arms pull. His body practically mounting yours. Stretching you out on his girth in one go. Pulling a shrill cry from your lips, moaning at the warmth flooding your belly. “Ngh-Miguel! Ohhhh….”

“Oh yes…” He hisses. Finding relief in final release. Who gives a shit if he didn’t get two pumps in before it happened. He’ll pump you with much more cum before the night is over.  

He pulls back, drawing aching whimpers from your lips. Trying to soothe you with kisses to your shoulder blades, your neck. Collecting your hair into his hand and gently pulling back. Moaning as he does it. And he plunges back in, molding you around his cock. Slipping in easier with his cum loosening you up. “T-todo lo que siempre he necesitado, mami…” His sweet words make your heart flutter. His face tucking into your neck from behind as he pumps into you.  

Moaning as he pulls back again and thrusts back in deep. Working up a rhythm, holding your hair back. His other hand wraps around to your clit, rubbing with tenderness in a stark contrast to his powerful pumps. Webs straining, the tension threatening to break the strands as you cry out for him. Legs shaking and trembling. His own moans are broken and hoarse. Full of need and desperation. All he can think of is filling you up. His cum, his DNA tainting you, mixing with yours. Making babies. Lots of them. The image of you full of his children makes him crazy. “You’ll be such a pretty mami, baby… so pretty, so so so…” He pants. His hips slapping your ass with every push, like wild animals in the jungle. His spider half taking over completely. Your soft whimpering moans fill his ears. His words shooting right to your core, making your eyes roll back and gushing on him. Crying out for him and the webs snap! Your arms dropping and you’d fall flat on the desk if he didn't grab you in time. Pulling you to his chest, pumping into you even faster. Climbing up on the desk and kneeling down for leverage. Pushing your body down to arch for him. Pounding into you with unending power. Even after you come, he doesn’t stop. Pulling one more trembling orgasm from you before he’s spurting once more. Filling you just like he promised. Finally stopping with a huff. His mind mostly gone but there’s part of him left, just for you. 

“You okay, mama? Look at me…” He whispers, turning you over gently. Admiring that look on your face. That fucked out smile. “Te amo… needa make sure it sticks…” 

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp

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[lunarduty]

𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙀𝙔𝙀𝙎 𝘼𝙎 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝘿 𝘼𝙎 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙀

☾ definition: dacryphilia refers to sexual pleasure or arousal from seeing tears or hearing the sounds of crying. 141 + ALEJANDRO + RUDY + GRAVES X F!READER TAGS | nsfw, smut, crying, mention of a safe word, f!dom, overstimulation, orgasm denial WC | 3,099

JOHN PRICE

… sees you cry and praises.

if john could see your eyes right now, he’d tell you not to be embarrassed. would probably coo at you like a prized horse. ask you what was wrong, and if there was anything he could do to help.

problem was, you weren’t sure what it was you were crying over - the bite of wood against your skin, or john’s tongue between your thighs.

both were agonizing in their own ways. both BURNED with something that hurt too good to admit. both demanded your attention, but as always, john eventually won the fight for it. the tiny little scrapes and bumps caused by the old wood of his desk had started to numb when the tears came. john’s fingers pushing into your cunt acted as a sort of balm. you couldn’t feel anything but him.

his broad shoulders had kept your legs spread for far too long at this point, so they eventually began to ache too. they tremble and quake around john’s shoulders. you know he feels it, and thinks it’s because of his tongue and fingers.

he’s not far from the truth.

and just as soon as john’s eyes shoot up, you’re throwing your head back. eyes squeezing shut, shuddering breath disguised behind a moan, hoping to just cum on his mouth and he doesn’t have to know he caused the tears that seem to burn your eyes. he’s kept you on the edge for so long, it wouldn’t be hard to simply focus on his tongue and let go.

there’s a burn behind your eyelids. more tears form when his fingers curl and his tongue flicks a certain way.

“john,” you breathe out, ending his name with a pant. “it’s… i-”

“look at me, love.”

it was an order. plain and clear. your head snaps up immediately, finding his half-illuminated eyes in the lowlight of his office. dark hair looking raven black, eyes blown up to match - but even then, you see them LIGHT up with amusement. even in shitty lighting, john catches the glimmer of tears. right on the edge of falling down your pretty cheeks - you probably don’t even notice. it only makes him harder.

he laughs in a low rumble. “so fucking pretty, aren’tcha?”

you nod; panting, writhing, crying.

john leans his head in closer, pushing in his fingers as far as they’ll go. “pretty girl gonna cum for me? all sweet and tight around my fingers? keep watching me, love - gonna cum now? yeah, go right ahead, dove. you more than DESERVE it.”

the orgasm hits like a truck when john grinds his tongue against your clit. just before your eyes squeeze shut again, a tear finally breaks free and glides down your cheek - warm and flushed from a climax that he’s sure someone must’ve heard.

john has always promised he’d never make you cry, but this is a damn good exception.

☾

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK

… sees you cry and dotes.

gaz has always gone on and on about how much he wants to keep you separate from his work. to leave all the roughness behind when he’s with you. it was never really a problem until tonight - sweet and gentle and slow to a fault. 

too sweet. too gentle. too slow. 

kyle is careful to keep a STEADY pace - a careful rock of his hips, lightly grinding against yours when he’s pressed in deep, making you feel each and every inch of him before gradually pulling out to do when same thing over again. and you know he doesn’t do things without an express purpose - after extending your orgasm a few times, it’s safe to say that your safety isn’t the top priority for once.

he hasn’t gone much faster than this languid pace. selfishly listening to your stunted breaths and pained whimpers of his name. 

if you ask him to go faster, gaz slows down. if you beg for something harder, he smiles and kisses you and tells you to be patient. 

but what has all this patience gotten you? two incredibly drawn out orgasms that fucking ACHED when they hit and kyle stubbornly keeping his thrusts slow and torturous under his guise of being gentle. it’s all a little too much. too intense. your eyes squeeze shut, face nestled against kyle’s neck, hips shifting up when he buries his cock in to try and grind out another orgasm. 

unfortunately, gaz knows you. knows your movements and knows your sounds - the shortening of your breaths and desperate whimpers and choked moans and… sniffles?

his pulls his head up immediately, eyes narrowing in on the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. and gaz grins - he can’t help against it. his cock pulses when a finger comes up to brush a tear away before it has a chance to fall down your face.

“poor baby,” he coos. if you weren’t so wound up, you might’ve noticed how tight his voice sounds. “it’s alright. doing so well for me. gonna make you cum again, don’t you worry. just hang in there, yeah?” his words are breathed against your lips, and by some miracle, gaz picks up the pace. hips picking up speed, even rocking a little stronger and it isn’t until you heard the slap of skin do you truly realize how SOAKED he got you.

the initial tears were caused by kyle’s torturous pace. a new set follows the old when he finally fucks you properly. gaz doesn’t mind - he likes wiping them away.

☾

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH

… sees you cry and teases.

“why’re you crying, bonnie? did you hurt your feelings or something?”

soap knows you won’t respond. not that you could.

the pace of his thrusts are too rough. too quick. too deep. using all his weight to slam into you again and again, not letting up for a moment. the worst part is, you know he has the stamina to keep going, even if you beg him to slow down. to let you breathe air that doesn’t taste like him.

your nails dig into the skin of soap’s chest as you shake your head. everything ached in a delicious way but it wasn’t your feelings that were hurt. soap moves his hand from his bruising grip on your hips to clasp around your jaw, shifting your head to look him straight on. he wants you looking at him, even through WATERY eyes. 

soap grunts as he shifts into a better position to fuck you in. his hair is mussed from your fingers. skin blotchy and flushed from exertion. he still grins at you. “then why’re you crying? want me to stop? is that it?”

“no!” you cry out - half a moan and half a shout.

a thoughtful hum vibrates against his ribs as soap’s fingers release your jaw, only to come up and wipe away a tear that leaked from the corner of your eye. “ahh, i get it, lass,” he breathes out, continuing his rough thrusts with a deep groan. “you’re cryin’ so pretty ‘cause you like getting fucked so good. am i right? my girl loves getting fucked ‘till she cries?”

you’re silent. eyes falling shut, mouth agape, head tilting back to ignore soap’s teases and just feel the addicting slide of his cock. he slows his thrusts only to grind against your pelvis and it’s such a massive difference in sensation that you nearly cum on the spot. it works to make you cry out his name.

“fuck- johnny!” and you do. so, so prettily.

☾

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

… sees you cry and worries.

simon’s face still hurt - a spot right over his cheekbone, purple and swollen and it aches almost enough to make him forget about how sore the rest of his body is.

it’s easy enough to ignore. it’s not liquor or ibuprofen that dulls the pain. his old methods of healing after a rough mission seem useless in the wake of pressing you back on the couch. it’s the touch of your skin, the smell of your hair, the noises you make that really pull him back together. you’re careful not to tug at him too hard or touch any of his TENDER aches, even when he begs you to.

yeah. it’s easy for simon to forget how close he was to not be here fucking you.

his fingers dig into the armrest of the couch, forcing his throbbing body to move as fast as he wants it to. an impromptu fuck on the couch wasn’t exactly planned tonight - you went on and on about how much you wanted to take care of him. but you’ve been clinging to him all night. never letting him out of your sight. it was just a natural progression and simon sure as shit wasn’t complaining.

“fuck, lovie,” he groans out slowly. if you keep moving your hips like that, he’s not gonna last much longer.

and fuck, simon was so close, he could taste it. feel it building in the base of his spine and how tight his stomach gets and it all makes it a little easier to forgo his aches to simply drive into you again and again. your arms wrap around his torso, brushing against tender ribs - when simon hisses, he’s unsure if it’s the pain or the sudden tightness around his cock when you jolt. simon’s mind goes blank and he’s just so fucking close and…

you make a new noise. unfamiliar to the ones simon has memorized when he’s fucking you. his eyes are HAZY and unfocused when he looks at you, and he didn’t quite know what he expected to find. tears accompanied the sniffle he heard, and your hand comes up to wipe them away in haste.

simon’s hips freeze instantly. “hey, hey, hey. what’s wrong? you okay?”

fuck, did he do something wrong?

to his surprise, you scoff. smiling despite wet cheeks and red eyes and simon blames his impending orgasm for how slow he is to understand. “i’m okay,” you reassure him. when your fingers trail up his spine, simon can barely breathe. “i just love you so much. don’t be so RECKLESS next time, okay?”

your legs tighten their hold around his hips. pulling him closer even when simon wants to pull back and really make sure you’re okay. you don’t allow it, instead grinding up against him at the same pace he’d been fucking you in - still sniffling and wiping a tear away on his arm.

simon swears he’s never cum so hard in his life.

☾

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

… sees you cry and stares.

morning has always been alejandro’s favorite time of day.

pinkish gold sunlight coming in through the window promises a beautiful day that he’ll likely be too busy to truly enjoy but welcomes all the same. alejandro hears the bustle of traffic outside - your place isn’t nearly as nice as his, but it’s closer to base and he’s never been known to waste time with you. alejandro is just a little tempted to rip his gaze away from you to enjoy the sunrise coming over las almas.

but he doesn’t. he never does. you’re just too fucking pretty.

alejandro kills two birds with one stone. pulls you out of bed and leads you over to the window just as the sun paints the clouds a deep gold. it saturates your skin in such a perfect way where alejandro can’t help but to touch it. touch your face, your neck, your shoulders, your back, your stomach, and well, he knows your pussy would look fucking HEAVENLY under the light as well.

“pretty fucking girl,” alejandro groans out. he usually likes watching his cock sink inside of you, but there was something about the glow of your skin pressed against the window that makes him just stare at your face. his thrusts are slow and deep, and your breath fogs up the glass, and you keep tugging your shirt down when alejandro pushes it up because you’re the one who has to face your neighbors every day.

when you came along, he didn’t think there could ever be a more beautiful sight than when you first smiled at him.

you proved him wrong with just a few tears reflecting the sunrise.

alejandro could’ve came right then and there. his hips did a little stutter and he grunted when you let out a little whimper while squeezing your eyes shut and he just watched a tear glide over your cheek. he almost pulls you away from the window to flip you around. fully face him so the glass doesn’t GREEDILY soak up all your tears because he’s fucking you so firmly against it.

“al- alejan- fuck, i’m so…”

“i know, baby. keep looking at me. yeah, lemme see those eyes. fuck…”

he kisses you. has a hand tangled into your hair and twists your neck into a better angle and kisses you to taste the salt on your lips and it’s like a bomb went off. alejandro’s hips pick up their pace and you rock back against him and fog up the glass even more when you shudder on his cock.

he cums with your tears wiping off against his own cheeks and salt on his tongue.

☾

RUDOLFO PARRA

… is the one to cry.

“it’s okay, rudy. doing so good for me. i’m almost there, you don’t have to cry.”

was he crying? fuck, he was. rudy didn’t even notice until you smiled at him fondly, bringing a hand up to brush away a tear that broke past his lashes and threatened to fall down his face. 

rudy waits for the hot flash of embarrassment to hit him, but it never does. maybe it’s because this is you. but it's more likely because he’s so fucking close to cumming, he can’t focus on anything else but you. keeping his hands locked around your hips, strong enough to keep them moving back and forth even when you try to slow them down and draw out his orgasm. 

you hadn’t even notice rudy’s big, wet eyes until you attempted to slow down. keeping a more steady pace in his lap to give your thighs a rest, and yeah, to wind rudy up just a little. he works so hard. he DESERVES to get fucked out of his mind now and then.

maybe you went too far, though. when you try to stall your hips, his hands make sure they keep their pace. his own hips buck up off the bed to get even deeper.

“i know you wanna cum.” it’s difficult to keep your voice steady. to not devolve into harsh pants and groans like he has. “but not before me, okay? make me cum, rudy. fuck, make me cum…”

he huffs - such a large demand for someone so fucked-stupid. rudy is so smart, so capable, and so fucking useless right now that maybe it’s too much to ask of him. so to help him out, you pry his hand off your hip. bring it up to your mouth and slide the whole length of his thumb between your lips, letting it glide across your tongue.

rudy instantly gasps and his hips jolt up. you can feel his cock throb even harder inside of you.

but with his thumb coated in saliva, you bring his hand down to where you meet. rudy takes it from there - give him a task, point him in the right direction, and he’ll complete it. he rubs his thumb in tight, DESPERATE circles while his other hand keep your hips in a deep grinding pace until you cum all over him.

it was good. fucking fantastic. but not your favorite part.

rudy knows he’s finally allowed to cum, and he does. so achingly beautiful in the way his jaw drops open, saliva stringing between his teeth. eyes hazy and wet with damp cheeks and a pink nose and when he groans, his voice is hoarse and choked. 

eventually, when you fall against his chest, all you hear are rudy’s hard panting and his sniffles.

☾

PHILLIP GRAVES

… sees you cry and laughs.

graves can be a real asshole sometimes. sarcastic, arrogant, and you know him well enough to know that he kinda likes it. makes him feel larger than life. untouchable. now is no different.

“c’mon, hun. i wanna hear it. y’can’t cum until i hear you say it.”

your arms are thrown over your face, hiding the way your teeth grit together and your eyes screw shut and how your jaw hangs open to gasp for air whenever graves bullies his cock even deeper with each thrust. and to be honest, you barely heard what he said - it was all just white noise. still, you know what he wants. and you’re a little too PROUD to give in.

there’s silence. graves scoffs and you feel him lean forward to grip your arms in his hands. being ripped away from your face reveals a little tremble of your lips, tiny red splotches on your cheeks, and tears lining your eyes. 

graves laughs as if it isn’t his fault. torturing you and playing with you. resetting the goalpost of what you need to do to cum.

the laugh is deep and GENUINE - the kind you’re treated with in the middle of the night away from his shadows, saved especially for you. the grin that accompanies it isn’t bad either. but the laugh is like a slap to the face (something graves might’ve inflicted if his hands were free - after all, you haven’t said your safe word.)

“my poor baby.” he says it so condescendingly. with a quirk of his brow and tilt of his head. as if he and his cock hadn’t caused the tears. “bet it’s gettin’ painful, huh? bet a good orgasm will make you feel right as rain.”

you slowly nod because god, you need to cum.

so graves hums, still wearing a smirk as he shifts on his knees. you whimper under the movement, spine arching, eyes solely focused on him. “then you gotta ask permission, right? c’mon, hun. sound off for me. i know you can do it,” he encourages while his fingers trail slowly down your body. going straight where you needed him the most.

normally, if you weren’t so wound up, you might’ve gotten smart with him. but as extra initiative, graves bends his spine a little. pushing his cock in just a little deeper and plainly getting off on how you gasp and your eyes finally push out hot, wet tears. 

this has gone on for too long. everything from your pussy down is throbbing.

“shadow 0-1…”

“hearin’ you loud and clear, baby.”

“requesting permission to cum…”