#and it will be unbearable at first to wake up where you are and have to see and accept it in its totality

[readwritealldayallnight]

ok here me out. simon coming too soon. like this man does not have sex often. ah i think it would be hot lowkey

18+ MDNI

Think of football scores

Think of the weather report

Think of last week’s briefing

Think of your first drill sergeant yelling at you

Think of-

He tries to think of anything that’s going to help keep him from blowing his load way too soon

Because you, right now? You’re certainly not helping his case

“Oh my god, that ride felt like it took forever. I didn’t think I was gonna last ‘til we made it home.” You nearly whine as you hurry to get the front door to your flat unlocked

‘That makes two of us’ Simon thinks to himself, remembering the way your wandering hands kept brushing against his thigh during dinner, how your sneaky fingers teased the prominent bulge pressed up against the front of his trousers the entire drive back, how your impatient lips tickled against the vein throbbing in his neck, sending goosebumps across his skin-

No

No, he can’t linger on it for too long, the twitching in his pants nearly painful from how pent up he is, how ready to burst he feels from having been kept apart from you for months, his hand a pitiful replacement for the warm embrace of your arms wrapped around him while your cunt held him even tighter

“Finally.” You exclaim, the door swinging open at your insistence, the both of you stumbling inside like a pair of fools drunk off of nothing more than each other

With a hand between your shoulder blades, Simon is steering you towards the bedroom like a man starved, his hands never straying from your skin

“Get on the bed, love. M’hungry.” His lips murmur against your ear, hopeful that eating you out will give his member the time he needs to pull himself together, for his brain and his cock to sync up and not burst in his pants the moment you touch him

Your own fingers are trying their best to fumble with his belt buckle, though he pulls his hips back out of your reach, bringing a pout to your lips

“Simon, no. I can’t wait anymore, I need you.” You try pleading with him, though you put up no resistance whatsoever as his large hands make their way under your shirt, slipping it over your head with ease

The bra is next to go, being flung across the room without a single care for where it lands, your pants the next item to be discarded on the floor, until you’re left in nothing but your panties and the dog tags he drapes around your neck each and every time he comes home from deployment, the cold metal reading ‘Riley’ sat perfectly between your breasts where he feels it belongs

“S’too bad, I’m cravin’ somethin’ sweet after supper.” He replies casually, the ache in his crotch unbearable as his eyes wander over your nearly naked form, a sight he’ll never grow tired of seeing. “You got somethin’ sweet for me? Hm? Gon’ be nice and gimme a taste?”

“Simon, please.” You insist, though you’re already crawling backwards onto the bed, eyes locked with his as he lowers himself between your parted legs, rough and calloused hands squeezing the meat of your thighs as he drapes one leg over his broad shoulder

“Mmm, you’ll have me love. Trust me. But first, I need you.” He says just as his lips begin trailing their way from your knee, leaving kissing in his wake as he inches his way higher up your thigh, along your hip, on the edge of your panties, grabbing the fabric of the waist band between his teeth before letting it snap back against you

“S-stop teasing.” You manage to let out, though your fingers sliding into his hair, nails scratching slightly at his scalp, lets him know you’re enjoying this as much as he is

Simon can feel himself beginning to leak into his boxers, when he presses a soft kiss against your folds over your panties and your soft gasp of surprise has his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head

He’s missed this, missed you more than he could ever say, every part of you, but this in particular, being able to rile you up as you squirm beneath him, getting all hot and bothered and desperate for him, this he has missed dearly

He would love to keep on teasing you until you’re as worked up as he feels right now, would love to drag this out and make the most of the evening, but he himself can only take so much more of this, his pants feeling impossibly suffocating at the moment, and so he tugs your soaked panties down off of you until their dangling off one ankle, connecting his mouth to where you need him most in a sloppy kiss that is anything but proper

The ache never stops though, not where you start writhing beneath his touch as though you were as sensitive as the head of his cock feels right now, precum staining through his trousers now as he unconsciously starts grinding his hips into the mattress, not when your gasps and moans and whines and pleads are the most beautiful music his damaged ears have ever heard, his own grunts of pleasure mixing into your melody

He should have known, really, that while eating you out might have helped to avoid cumming inside of you after only a few thrusts inside your warmth, he should have known better than to think that he wasn’t going to get as much out of this as you would

For a man as vigilant as he is, he’s hardly aware that it’s about to happen, too focused on helping you reach the peak of your pleasure, too intent on getting you to that place you’re begging him to take you to, whimpering for ‘just a little more, a little more, please Simon, please’, that he fails to realize he’s cumming in his pants until it happens, the force of it taking him by surprise as he groans against your clit, the vibrations just enough to send you careening over the edge into bliss alongside him

He’ll clean himself up later, maybe get you in the shower with him before you notice the wet stain on his front, but until then, he’s going to need some time to recover and get hard again

Luckily, he’s sat at in front of his favourite meal, and the second course is only about to begin

[monzabee]

dreamcatcher - s. reid

criminal minds masterlist ||

Summary: just dancing with your boyfriend to escape from bad dreams. 

Pairing: early seasons!spencer reid x bau!reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: mention of a case (but no details), crying, nightmares, fluff

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

You know this job comes with certain baggage. No matter how many times you lock your gun away or scrub your hands raw in the shower, it stays with you. It’s in the flickering hallway light of your apartment, the creak of your floorboards, the static on your TV at 2:17 AM. 

And you want nothing more than to get a good night’s sleep, preferably in your boyfriend’s arms sans all the gory details of your last case—but here you are, having woken up from a nightmare about your latest victims.  

You jolt awake with a gasp, like surfacing from ice water. The room is dark, quiet, and your shirt clings to your skin, damp with sweat. Your heart hammers, too loud in the silence. Your throat is unbearably dry, which you realize with a wince as you try to swallow. You blink, trying to orient yourself, eyes adjusting slowly to the familiar outlines of your bedroom. The faint city lights leak in through the blinds, painting soft stripes across the walls. 

You try your best not to wake Spencer up as you sit up, though when you turn to check on him, he’s already blinking the sleep away. He makes a soft, sleepy sound, turning toward you instinctively. “Hey,” he mumbles, voice thick and hoarse, “you okay?” 

You nod at first—automatic, reflexive. But then you pause. The lie catches in your throat, heavier than your own heartbeat, and leaves a sour taste in your mouth. You shake your head. “No,” you whisper, the word barely audible as you try your best to push the urge to start sobbing down. 

He’s fully awake now. Spencer sits up without hesitation, pushing his messy hair out of his face. Concern floods his features as he studies you in the dim light. “Was it... her?” 

You don’t need to answer. You see it in his eyes—he already knows. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes and exhale slowly, trying to push the images back into the dark corner of your mind where they belong. “I promised her mom.” 

Spencer shifts closer, his hand moving to your back, rubbing soft, grounding circles between your shoulder blades. He doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t speak right away. He just lets the small sobs that come from you subside on their own.  

“I told her I’d bring her home,” you whisper, voice cracking. “I promised her.” You finally look at him, and the guilt is written all over your face—in the crease of your brow, the tremble in your lip, the way your eyes can’t quite hold his. 

But Spencer’s expression doesn’t change. There’s no judgment, no disbelief, just a quiet, steady kind of sorrow. The kind only someone in your line of work can truly understand. “You did everything you could,” he says gently. “You always do.”  

“I know,” you whisper, but the truth of it doesn’t reach your heart. You’d appreciate his attempt at comfort if it didn’t feel so far away—like someone tossing you a life preserver in a storm you’ve already drowned in. The words are kind, but they don’t stop the echo of her mother’s voice in your head or the weight of the promise you couldn’t keep. “I’d believe it more,” you murmur, “if I didn’t keep seeing her face every time I close my eyes.” 

A tear escapes before you can stop it, tracing a warm line down your cheek. Spencer catches it with his thumb. His hand lingers there, holding your face like it’s something delicate—something worth protecting. “Come here,” he murmurs. You let him pull you into his arms, tucking yourself into the soft space under his chin, breathing him in. His heartbeat is a slow, steady rhythm against your cheek. Safe. Familiar. Real. Neither of you says anything for a long time. That is until Spencer breaks the silence, of course. “Did you know the hippocampus is the part of the brain responsible for turning short-term memories into long-term ones?” he says, voice low, a little hesitant. “It’s also where emotional memories get processed—especially fear.” 

You huff a laugh against his chest. It’s barely more than a breath, but it’s the most you can muster up at the moment. “Why are you telling me about the brain, again?” 

He tilts his head just enough to rest his cheek against your hair. “I just… I think your brain is holding on because it knows how much you cared. Because you fought for her.” 

Your arms tighten around him, and you close your eyes—not because you want to sleep again, but because this time, it doesn’t feel quite so terrifying. “It still hurts.” 

“I know,” he says. And you believe him. Another beat of silence passes before Spencer shifts slightly. “Wait here,” he whispers, and you let him go reluctantly, watching as he pads barefoot into the living room. A few moments later, the soft crackle of the record player fills the air, followed by the first warm notes of an old jazz tune. You recognize it instantly—it’s Billie Holiday, one of your favorites. 

“Spencer!” You call out to him, “What are you doing there?” 

He comes back and offers you his hand, the corners of his lips lifting in the gentlest smile. “Dance with me?” 

You hesitate, because it’s absurd. Because it’s three-thirty in the morning, and your eyes are swollen from crying, and the grief in your chest still feels like an open wound. But Spencer waits—silent and patient, the way he always is with you. 

And so you take his hand. 

He pulls you close, arms wrapping around your waist like you’re something precious, and you settle your head on his shoulder. The music sways and so do you, bare feet shifting gently against the floor, bodies moving like they’ve always known how to find each other in the dark. His voice is low, close to your ear. “I’ve got you,” he says. “And I always will.” 

And in this moment—this quiet, swaying, three-in-the-morning kind of moment—you believe him. 

[himasgod]

Can I request a leona x reader where the reader got hurt during his overblot I’m feeling a little bit of hurt/comfort 

LEONA X READER

Where you wake up after his overblot

How would Leona act seeing you wake up in the infirmary, knowing that he damaged you and left you unconscious during his overblot?

The silence is unbearable.

When you opened your eyes with difficulty, everything around you was dim, the smell of dried herbs relaxed you. You're in the infirmary… and you're not alone.

Since you woke up, Leona hasn't said a word.

He's there, sitting in the chair next to your bed, his elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed on the floor. He's wearing the same clothes before you lost consciousness, traces of sand clinging to the folds. His tail isn't moving, his ears are lowered, his expression tense.

He hasn't looked at you once.

And that scares you.

Because if there's one thing Leona Kingscholar never does, it's avoid confrontations.

You blink several times, trying to clear your blurred vision. You feel heavy, as if your body were trapped in a lead swamp. The pain in your side reminded you with cruel precision what happened in the Savanaclaw Coliseum.

The dark sand.

Leona in the middle of all, consumed by his own venom.

The impact of his attack is still etched into your skin. The brute force with which he threw you through the air, the feeling of everything inside you compressing to the point of suffocation, the sharp pain as you hit the floor.

You remember Ruggie's voice calling your name.

You remember the screams of the others.

You remember… the silence afterward.

The emptiness.

Now, in this all-too-quiet room, that same emptiness still surrounds you.

"…You're not going to say anything, are you?"

Your voice comes out weaker than you'd like. You try to joke, but the pang in your chest makes the attempt fade into a whisper.

Leona clicks his tongue, but still doesn't look up.

"What do you want me to say?"

Your throat tightens at his dry tone, but you force a smile, even though it hurts.

"I don't know… 'I'm glad you're still alive' would be fine."

His reaction is immediate.

His expression twists. His ears twitch slightly, as if those words have struck an overly sensitive nerve.

"I have no right to say that," he whispers.

It takes you a moment to process what he just said. And then, you understand.

His fists are balled until his knuckles turn white. His tail is motionless, as if even his own body is paralyzed.

The way he still doesn't look at you.

Leona isn't angry.

He's scared.

And he doesn't know how to deal with it.

"Leona…"

"Shut up."

The rawness in his voice takes you by surprise. It's a low, sharp growl, like a razor's edge slashing at your skin.

Hearing his name on your lips, his hands clench into fists.

"Don't say my name like that," he growls, but not angrily.

It's something else. Exhaustion. Frustration. Something he doesn't dare name.

"As if… as if I didn't almost kill you."

But what shocks you most isn't the anger, but the trembling that runs through him.

Leona Kingscholar doesn't tremble.

Not when he's fighting. Not when he's furious. Not when the whole world is against him.

But now, with his head bowed, his shoulders rigid, and his lips pressed into a tight line… he's trembling.

And that's worse than anything.

The pain in your body is insignificant compared to the knot forming in your chest. You want to reach out, to touch him, to say something that might pull him from this abyss into which he seems to have sunk.

But you can barely move.

Gathering all the strength you have left, you reach out and brush your fingertips against his.

Leona freezes.

His green eyes, dark as a shadowy forest, finally meet yours.

And there it is.

Fear.

Not fury. Not disdain. Not the bitter resignation he usually carries.

Fear. Pure, absolute terror.

As if, for the first time in his life, Leona Kingscholar had felt what it was like to lose something that truly mattered to him.

As if he still couldn't believe you were here, breathing.

As if, deep down, a part of him was still trapped in the moment your body fell motionless onto the sand.

Your hand closes awkwardly around his. It's cold.

"It wasn't your fault," you whisper.

His jaw tenses instantly. His ears flatten even further.

Leona clicks his tongue. His tail whips around sharply.

"Don't be stupid. You are hurt because of me. No one else."

You know what he's really saying is that he hates himself for this. That he won't forgive himself.

"Are you… okay?" you ask, reaching out with a struggle.

Leona tenses immediately, as if you've hit him.

"Me? Are you really asking that?" His voice cracks slightly, and his ears flatten back.

"You're the one bedridden, herbivore."

Still, you manage a small smile.

"Yes… but I want to know."

For a long moment, he says nothing. Then he lets out a heavy sigh and rubs his temple with his fingers, as if fighting off a splitting headache.

"…I hate this," he finally murmurs, his tone almost inaudible.

"I hated watching you fall. I hated knowing it was my fault. I hated not being able to stop myself…"

His hand closes on his knee.

"If you hadn't woken up, I would—"

"It isn't your fault," you insist, more firmly. "You know it isn't."

Leona lets out a bitter, humorless laugh. A dry sound that doesn't reach his eyes.

"If I hadn't lost control, you wouldn't be like this."

His other hand slides across the sheet, almost unintentionally, until it brushes against your bandaged side. His touch is so light you barely feel it, but even so, his hand moves away as if it's been burned.

"I wouldn't be here watching you lying in this damn bed, helpless."

His voice grows raspier with each word. More stifled.

The weight on his back is so visible it seems he could break at any moment.

Leona exhales sharply, as if he's been holding his breath this whole time.

"I didn't want to lose you," he whispers, and this time there's no anger, no pride, no masks.

Only Leona. Only his fear. Only his guilt. And it hurts.

It hurts because you know how hard it is for him to say it. Because you know that in his mind, all of this is his responsibility, even when it isn't.

Because you know he's the one who hates himself the most right now.

"I'm strong," you say, interlacing his fingers with yours. "I won't get rid of you so easy."

Leona closes his eyes tightly, exhaling a long, contented breath.

"…You're an idiot," he whispers, his eyes closed.

"But I guess I'm your idiot."

And for the first time, you feel his grip respond to yours.

Firm. Warm. Alive.

Leona won't leave. Not this time.

And never again.

That was more than enough for you.

[connorsui]

Satoru is … obsessed with your lips.

For the most part.

He gets away with a lot under the guise of being your best friend—looping an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close in crowded rooms, resting his chin on your head, calling you every ridiculous pet name under the sun. But the lip thing? That’s different. That’s something else entirely.

Because he can not stop.

He does it constantly—cuts you off mid-sentence with a quick peck, presses lazy kisses to the corner of your mouth when you’re focused on something else, and—on more than one occasion—drags the tip of his tongue over your bottom lip just to see you gasp.

You slap his arm the first time he does it. “’Toruuu, you can’t just do that?”

He just grins, impossibly bright, tilting his head. “But why, baby?, can't I just kiss you once?”

And then there are the moments when he gets carried away—when a quick, teasing kiss turns into something else. When his grip tightens, when the playful edge in his touch disappears into something desperate and consuming.

Like now.

His lips move against yours with an intensity that borders on ravenous. His hands are everywhere—one gripping your waist, the other buried in your hair, keeping you exactly where he wants you. You barely have time to breathe before he pulls you back in, swallowing the sound that leaves your lips.

He kisses you like he’s been drowning forever, and you’re the first breath breaking through his lungs. Like you’re the only thing anchoring him to the world.

You try to pull away—to say something, to tease him, to scold him for acting like he’s starved for you—but the moment you do, his teeth catch your lower lip in a warning nip. A soft, stay.

And you do.

Because how could you not?

His hands are rough, gripping, holding—like he wants to leave his mark on you, like he wants you to remember. But when they reach your face, when his fingertips brush against your cheeks, his touch turns unbearably soft.

Like you’re something fragile. Like you’re something precious.

His thumb traces along your jaw, his lips slowing, pressing against yours over and over, softer now, reverent. Like he’s memorizing you. Like he’s terrified you’ll slip away the moment he lets go.

And maybe that’s what ruins you most.

Not the desperate, breath-stealing kisses. Not the bruising grip.

But the way he holds you like you’re a dream—one he’s afraid to wake up from.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

His

Summary: Javi can't get enough of you (aka idk how to summarize this other than it's pwp whoops)

Word Count: 1.8K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader

Warnings: ... again, this is straight up pwp, unprotected p in v sex, rough(er) sex, breeding kink (I'm sorry!! I'm sorry!! It's physically impossible to not!!), praise kink, big, nasty creampie, cum play, 1 use of daddy and papí (but like, that's the goal), an ass smack, prone bone and the one position from s2e3 of Narcos because I say so!!! also sweet, tooth rotting fluff because I don't know how to write any other way

A/N: She's nothing, if not consistent, your honor 🤠 You'll have to pry Javier Peña and his big, fat breeding kink out of my cold, dead hands before I stop writing about it!!!!!! Figured what better way to break a hiatus than letting the ovulation demons do the lords work for me to post some smut on tumblr dot com, hope y'all enjoy!!!

Never Too Late Masterlist

“Fuck, Javi!” 

The only thing that’s keeping you from waking up your neighbors with the volume of your moans is the way Javi has you pressed against the mattress, muffling the sound of you screaming his name as he pounds into you, over and over. 

You swear he could smell it on you from the second he walked through the door, how you had been craving him all day. Just the thought of him alone was enough to make you ache with unbearable need and want. From the moment he left for work this morning, you were counting down the hours until he got home so you could climb him like a goddamn tree. 

But then again, how can anyone blame you when he’s the one who instigated it in the first place? 

“I swear to god, when I get home, I’m not letting you out of the fucking bed tonight ‘till I knock you up.” 

“Is that a threat or a promise, Javi?” 

“Both.” 

Javi’s always been a man of his word, but with the way he’s fucking you right now, it makes you wonder if he’s ever planning on letting you out of the bed again. 

“That’s it baby girl, let me hear it.” 

You can feel the way the words rumble in his chest, pressed against your back as he fucks into you, deeper and harder with each thrust. The grip around your intertwined fingers tighten, practically melting you into the bed with the weight of his broad body is pinning you down, caging you beneath him. 

Heat is radiating off him, the tacky sheen of sweat pooling where your skin meets, Javi’s hips flushed against the meat of your ass. He’s already got you three orgasms deep, but there’s just something addictive about Javi that always has you begging for more, desperate to cum around his cock over and over again until you have nothing left to give. 

“Oh my god- fuck. Fuck, Javi, I want more baby, please. Fuck me harder- oh fuck-” 

You swear you can feel his smirk creeping into the corners of his cheeks as he kisses your shoulder, relishing in the mess he’s already made you, and yet, you still can’t seem to get enough of him. 

“You want more, hermosa? Let me hear you, baby.” Javi coos, purposely slowing his pace down just enough to make you whimper, quietly laughing to himself at the way he can feel you back your ass up against his hips, trying to keep yourself as full of him as you can. 

“I want it, I want more, baby, please.” You whine, craning your neck behind you just enough to see the devilish grin Javi has plastered across his face. 

“You gonna be a good girl and take everything I have to give you? Let me fill you up until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ stick?” He groans, the thought of fucking himself so deep inside you that nine months from now, he’ll be the reason for your growing family, igniting something indescribably primal in him. 

“Yes! Yes, please, fuck- I’ll take all of it!” 

It’s borderline pathetic how many octaves your voice has climbed as you beg him for more, a pitch and volume so loud and high you nearly startle yourself with your response. You can hear Javi sigh and curse under his breath. You’re not sure if it’s because having you like this drives him crazy, or if having you like this drives him so crazy, he’s worried he’ll bust right then and there if he doesn’t control himself. 

Your response has him shifting behind you, sitting back on his knees and gripping his fingers into the meat of your sides to force your bottom half up, one hand letting go to smack your ass just hard enough for your breath to hitch in the back of your throat. 

You’re not sure how, but the new position has him feeling even fuller, stretching you out to the point of pleasure filled sobs as he starts to pound against your g-spot, each thrust rougher than the last. 

You’re so wet that the sound of him sliding in and out of your cunt is almost as loud as the noise of his skin slapping against yours. That, combined with the lewd panting and moaning heaving from each of your chests, has the room sounding like you could easily give any porno ever produced a run for its money. 

“Love this pussy so fucking much. Always so fucking wet and tight for me. Whose pussy is this, baby?” Javi asks, his once smug demeanor quickly dissipating as he chokes out his question through gritted teeth, so drunk on you he can barely think straight. 

“Yours! Fuck, fuck fuck- It’s yours, Javi.” You sob, fisting at your bedsheets so tightly, you’re convinced it won’t be long until your knuckles turn white. 

“Fucking right, it is. Fuck you so full of me that I knock you up, make sure- mierda- make sure everyone knows you’re all mine. That what you want, Mami?” 

“Yes, y-yes! Oh fuck- yes! ” 

Javi gets one more smack at your ass before he reaches around to scoop you up from your front, draping his arm across your chest to flush it with his back, never letting the pace of his hips falter. If he wasn’t holding you up, you’re positive you’d be limp, so all consumed by pleasure that it’s engulfed every inch of your body. to keep yourself upright. 

His free arm snakes around to find your clit, whimpering as the pads of his fingers rub tight circles around the bundle of nerves. The undeniable tingle at the base of your spine is beginning to build again, the all too familiar clamping of your cunt around Javi’s cock growing tighter by the second. 

You can all but feel him in your stomach, every inch of him sunk as deep as you can take him, backing your ass into him to counter every snap of his hips. You shoot your hand behind you, digging your nails into whatever part of his thigh you can find to brace yourself on as he fucks into relentlessly, only egged on by the fact he knows how close you are. 

“You got one more for me, baby?” Javi mewls, nipping at your neck while the hot words of his breath dance across your skin. “One more time before I cum so fucking deep inside you?” 

You’re not sure how you even have the capacity to form words, nodding your head in compliance as you try your best to string together something comprehensible as the coil in your stomach winds tighter and tighter. 

“Y-yes, oh fuck- want you to fill me up. Put a baby in me, please, papí.“ 

“Fuck me.” Javi huffs under his breath, furrowing his brow in an intense focus to keep from fulfilling your request preemptively. “Cum for me, Hermosa. Cum all over my cock, and I promise I will.” 

It only takes a few more frantic strokes before you’re collapsing around him, orgasm shooting through your body with such radiating pleasure, you’re not even sure you’re on this earth anymore. The way he’s pinning your nearly limp body to his, pounding into you relentlessly to chase his own high is almost too much, but you’ll take it. You’ll take everything he has to give because it means that you’re his. 

“That’s my girl.” Javi coos, sliding the hand that had been rubbing at your clit up your chest, stopping to wrap around your jaw, just firm enough to dip your head back to rest against his shoulder. “My good fucking girl.” 

His head is buried in the crook of your neck, pants and moans muffled against your skin, growing louder with each snap of his hips, each one more reckless and sloppy than the last. You can barely make out the words he’s mumbling into your ear, his brain just as jumbled as yours as he nears his finish line. 

“I have so much fucking cum for you. Gonna fuck it so deep in you, it’ll- oh fuck- it’ll fucking take. Fill up this pussy with every last- shit- every last fucking drop. Fuck!” 

It’s a low groan that rumbles in his chest first, followed by a strangled whimper that dies somewhere in the back of his throat as his hips stutter, hot ropes of his spend spilling inside of you while he cums. You know he doesn’t dare let a drop go to waste, that he’ll keep his cock stuffed inside your cunt until you’ve milked him of every ounce he has to give. 

And fuck, he wasn’t lying when he said plenty to give. 

You can’t even tell where your body ends and his begins, melded together as one, his length nestled so deep inside you, you can feel all of him pulsing while his seed overflows, leaking out pussy and dripping down your thighs. You know there’s nothing more Javi wants than to keep every last drop inside your cunt, but the best he can do with how much he has to give is to keep fucking it into you, forcing hips to thrust deeper in sync with the heavy heaves of his chest until you’re all but sobbing. 

“It’s- fuck- it’s so much, Javi, fuck-” You whimper, jaw slack at the slick, sticky mess pooling around the base of his cock. 

“Jesus, fuck- I know, baby. I know, but you’re taking me so fucking well.” He coos, softly kissing your neck and shoulder before shifting your body to lay you down, somehow remembering to grab a pillow from his side of the bed to prop under your hips before your back hits the mattress. 

You hiss at the loss of Javi inside you, the sharp breath quickly replaced by a gasp as you the next plop of cum dripping out of your hole caught by Javi’s fingers, sliding up your soaked folds to gently press back into your cunt. He uses the last bit of strength he has to part your legs just enough to make room for his head, leaning down just enough to pepper soft kisses to your clit, trailing up your stomach and chest until he collapses next to you. 

The both of you lay there for a moment in silence, nothing left to fill the room but the post-orgasmic haze you’ve left behind, catching your breath as you try to let your brain sync back up to your body. 

“Javi… Javi, holy fuck.” You huff, the corners of your cheeks turning upwards in a cheeky grin as you roll your head to face him, giggling at the wide eyed, fucked out expression his face still can’t seem to shake. 

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Javi sighs, shaking his head in disbelief before running his hand through the sweat-dampened curls of his hair, prying them from the damp mat they’ve made on his forehead.  

“You came so hard, Jav.” You softly giggle, scooting close enough to lay your cheek against his chest, smiling as he drapes his arm across your back to pull you in closer. 

“Yeah, I know. Fuck, I haven’t cum that hard in a long time.” Javi smirks, fingers drawing gentle patterns on the warm skin of your back. 

“Trying to knock me up really turns you on that much, huh?” You tease, the two of you laughing like you didn’t already know the answer, or that he couldn’t say the same for you. “It’s hot.” 

“Yeah?” Javi asks, biting down on the plush of his lower lip as he raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Mhmmm. You’re already about to be the hottest DILF known to man, makes it that much hotter how badly you want to be a daddy.” 

Even though Javi rolls his eyes at you, trying his best to hide the boyish grin stretched between his cheeks. You snicker at the pink flush of his face, leaning over to leave a lingering kiss on his lips, both your smiles meeting each other’s mouths. 

“Fuck me.” Javi sighs, quietly laughing to himself, carefully brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. 

“Again? Already? Hate to break it to ya, but I think it’s safe to say you’ve got nothing left in the tank there, Jav.” 

This eye roll makes him grin even harder, supring on your giggles with the ticklish kisses he pecks across your body as payback for your awful joke. 

“You’re such a fucking dork. God, I love you.” 

“Love you more, idiot.”

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[satoruxx]

THE SPACE BETWEEN COMFORT AND CHAOS.

✧ PAIRING: wolf!toji fushiguro x f!reader | 9k words

✧ SUMMARY: this fic has always been 18+ but now especially I MEAN IT mdni, toji gets horny fr this time (like 2.5k words of just that), masturbation, toji gets turned on by love idk, rut/heat cycles, basically abo/hybrid mating tendencies, idk let me write my porn sigh, misogyny, um stalking, more hybrid mistreatment, talks of murder, the typical blood as a metaphor for love :/

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: lol okay i'm vv sorry for the six month absence.. had to get that degree :33 but hopefully this chapter being 9k words and having horny toji makes up for it.. however pls do heed the warnings! i yap a lot about mating and other abo things so if that's not your thing pls scroll TT.. anyways i'm thanking you all so much for your patience !! hope you enjoy <33

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"pause."

toji's form stops abruptly, and you bite back a chuckle when he turns to glare at you over his shoulder. "what?"

you grin, rocking back on your heels even as the rest of the street continues bustling around you. "i'm hungry."

the street's lights reflect over toji's facial features, and the way his jaw drops looks extra comical. "already? we just had dinner."

you frown, affronted. "that was like an hour ago."

toji snorts, rolling his eyes, though it comes off fonder than you expected it to. "so you want dessert?"

you nod eagerly, and a muted chuckle escapes the wolf as you catch up to his side. his jade eyes scan the lively streets critically, before falling on you again. "well, go crazy."

you immediately grab his wrist and tug him along, peering at different stalls and stores despite his protests. toji ends up just crossing his arms as he waits for you to buy your dessert (ice cream, you've decided. on a cone). he watches you grin as you pay and then hurry over to him, both of your hands full.

"here," you chirp, shoving a cone into his hand. a few melted drops stain his skin, still cold to the touch. "for you!"

he huffs. "kid, i told you i don't like sweets that much."

"that's what you say at first." you point your finger at him as you lick up the dripping sides of your own cone, gaze all too knowing. "but then you try it and realize you can't get enough."

toji rolls his eyes, but still obediently takes a lick. the flavor of chocolates and some other sweet confections burst across his tongue. it's strong, almost unbearably so, but then it settles on his palate and leaves a satisfaction in its wake. he can't help the subtle twitch of his lips, almost pleased, and you give him a smug smile.

(it seems like he will always be doomed when it comes to sweet things.)

you both walk home in relative silence, save for the occasional bit of chatter when you remember something you haven't told him. the streets are still bright and bustling with people trying to enjoy their saturday night, and toji feels a little more comfortable because it's so easy to blend in.

"are you sure you don't want me to hold those?" you ask pointedly, peering at all the shopping bags he's balancing on his arms. "aren't they heavy?"

he gives you a sidelong glance—affronted. "seriously? how weak do you think i am?"

you raise your free hand in surrender, biting back a laugh as you look at him with that same spark of a challenge in your eyes. "don't you sleep with a nightlight?"

toji's glare is boiling when it settles on you. "shut up and eat your ice cream."

you chortle, nudging his side with your elbow, and he groans under his breath. his fingers itch. it would be so fucking easy to just grab your free hand that's swinging listlessly at your side. the lines of his large, rough palm pressed against your smaller, gentle one. his fingers would curl around yours so gratefully, sweet and soft and yet still keeping you attached to him.

(he can't elaborate on how pleased the thought makes him. keeping you at his side, where he can always see you. where you can always see him.)

but all he can do is clench his fist, internally reprimanding himself for taking such liberties with you to begin with—even if it's just in his own head.

when you both make it back home, you hop in the shower quick and then toji takes his turn, so used to the mundane routine. he heads into the bathroom, not before making a sarcastic jab at your choice of pajamas for the night (doughnuts, printed in all shapes and colors), to which you just punch his arm as he cackles.

toji enjoys the feeling of the searing hot water burning into his skin. psychopathic maybe, but it feels comforting. it's not like he was given the luxury of hot water back when he was underground.

(that being said, even once he'd started living with you, it's not like he took hot showers often. in fact, he'd sometimes find himself relying on cold showers. especially when you were around him. a fleeting touch here, a meaningful glance there, and he'd find himself under pelting ice, breathing heavily through his nose until he's finally got himself under control.)

even now he tries not to think too deeply about that, focusing on enjoying his warm shower. he feels a little guilty when he stops to consider that you probably have no idea that his thoughts about you are so fucking depraved.

(poor thing. you don't deserve something so unhinged breathing down your neck.)

and unfortunately that's all he truly is. unhinged. an animal that lacks self control. and you are nothing of the sort. sweetness and good all bundled up into a human being. night and day, dark and light, sun and storm.

good and evil.

toji knows this well. knows that he has no right to let his claws tear into your perfect flesh and rip you to pieces. only monsters ruin perfection after all.

and perfection you were. he knows you don't really see yourself that way, but it's hard for him not to. reminds him of statue deities the old artists left behind to stand in museums under heavy spotlights. for people to flock to, eager and awestruck as they marvel at beauty like they've never seen it before. and he'd bow front of you, knees digging into rough earth, bloody and bruised as he reaches for your marbled fingers. letting stone gently tickle the sharp curve of his jaw, trace the scar cutting over his lips. maybe when he finally looks up at you he'll only remember your smile immortalized into the stone.

but toji is selfish. he doesn't want to worship a statue. he'd rather have you as is, life thrumming through your veins the way blood does. warmth bursting from under your skin and seeping into his own. and there's a part of him that knows you'd touch him so eagerly, ready to please and give him everything that he's ever wanted. you've already been so generous—giving and giving and giving some more. if he asked to let him take you apart, would you dare say no? would you let him sort through sinew and muscle until he's found your very core? would you let him hold your beating heart in his claws no matter how many times they nick the flesh and make you bleed?

you would, with stars in your eyes. in fact, there's a greedy part of him that thinks you'd do the same in return. tear him apart piece by piece with careful fingers until he's nothing but laid bare in front of you. press your flesh against ragged scars and bruised skin, rough with use and danger. if he focuses a little harder, he can feel your touch linger on those scars. your lips will follow, pressing deep against his blood, staining you wine red. but you'll just smile, light bursting behind your silhouette (angelic; awe-inspiring), and he'll once again be speechless in front of you.

(powerless in every sense of the word.)

this is followed by yet another dangerous thought—just how much of an animal would you let him be?

it would be easy to cage you between his arms, close enough that he can count every eyelash and see every shade in your skin. it would be easy to hook his claws around the waistband of the fabric that hid you away, press a searing kiss into the stripe left by the elastic. it would be easy to reduce you to a shaking mess, quiet whimpers escaping into the space only he shares with you.

it's ridiculous, how quickly his obsession bleeds into arousal. a thin line, his toes dancing over it. but he doesn't have it in him to dwell on the shame behind it. it's instantaneous, how heat starts thrumming through his veins at the thought of you, alighting every expanse of flesh and breaking through skin.

toji bristles, tail flexing even under the weight of the water.

you have to know what you're doing. weren't you ever warned about dangers like him? wasn't it common sense not to dangle prey in front of a predator's eyes?

(though, if he's being honest, toji doesn't feel like much of predator. if anything, you're the predator, circling him with attentive eyes that makes his hair stand on end. makes him want to expose his underbelly and let you pounce.)

it doesn't make sense to him, how his mind relates someone as sweet as you to a role so unflinchingly unkind. in reality, the only one who's fucked enough to take on that role is him. the true animal—unhinged, reckless, cruel.

the only one who'd dig his fangs into your flesh and tear you apart with no hesitation. let sweet blood drip from his lips, lapping away until not a drop is left. reverent—because he knows how valuable it is.

the problem is you'd let him.

welcoming, with open arms and a warm smile that makes him want to take even more. more and more until nothing is left.

(would you enjoy it? his claws encircling your fragile wrists and pressing them into sheets. heavy body weighing yours down, scarred muscle meeting soft flesh. fanged teeth digging into the tender meat of your lips. perhaps you'd tell him as much, quietly sighing into his mouth, singing his praises and whispering a sweet combination of toji please, more.)

blood rushes south, his cock hardening so quick it's almost humiliating. this had been an ongoing issue for months now. toji never thought anyone would have the ability to drive him up the walls like this. not that you had gone around deliberately trying to give him a hard time (no pun intended), but it'd become more difficult to ignore. even just noticing little things—like the texture of your fingertips against his skin or the way your scent bleeds into the walls of the house. or the way his height towers over you and forces you to look up at him in a way that is so easy to imagine in certain other scenarios. in between his legs, gentle hands on his knees, eyes peering through lashes, and swollen lips wrapped around his—

fuck.

he's rock hard now. thick and aching in a way that makes him feel almost ashamed because there's no reason he should be acting like a whelpling who's just been thrown into a rut for the first time. no, he'd been an adult for a long time. one that had gotten through a lot worse than this.

(it's seared into his brain, the way the faceless doctor from the underground would hand him suppressant pills a couple weeks before a rut was due to hit, eyeing him to make sure they were swallowed without any issues. his body remembers scratching at the stone ground of a cell as he snarled through the pain of one of his most natural instincts being manipulated through a drug.

it was normal for them. every hybrid there had experienced being put aside for a day or two, labeled "out of commission" for a fake sick period while they rode out their cycles with no help or relief.

what would've normally been a couple weeks of rut was cruelly suppressed into two short days. in that time, toji was confined to a special cell with no outside contact. no fights, no interactions with any other hybrid.

all he had was the time to get increasingly more feral and frustratingly turned on. and no way to deal with it but ruthlessly fucking his own fist until he was exhausted.

exhausted, but never satiated. never satisfied.

after all, the suppressant pills couldn't erase the nature of his instincts. the part of him that craved not for a simple release, but for the experience of sharing a rut with someone. craved forming a connection with another being who could not only provide relief through it, but also take every bit of devotion he had to offer. the pills were effective in dulling down the intensity of ruts and heats, and shortened the length of them tremendously. but even after all that, they were still animals—there was no denying it. no, none of it could be erased; the instinctual craving for a fucking mate.)

all of those years under suppressants had made toji forget what a real rut felt like. but if it's anything close to the way he'd been feeling lately, he was definitely screwed. his mind had become increasingly more creative, able to conjure up the most inappropriate images of his most shameful fantasies. and this issue could only be fixed by jacking off until cum was dripping between his fingers and he felt even more ashamed than he did before.

which is exactly what he's being pushed to right now.

it seems almost instantaneous the way his fist wraps around his cock, throbbing flesh hot and angry. he bites back a hiss at the sensitivity, the hot water doing nothing to help his already searing flesh.

toji knew to start expecting flare ups of arousal. after all it was just a part of his nature, but a headache all the same. unfortunately, when escaping that hellhole he called a home, he didn't think about what would happen to his body now that those bastards weren't pumping his body full of suppressants.

sukuna had once said that it was their way of stripping them of their natural instructs, domesticating hybrids without them even knowing. the thought had pissed both of them off, but the tiger was right. nothing inherently natural about controlling such a significant facet of their bodies.

if he had more time to prepare his escape, he would've broken into the medical wing and stolen a few years' worth of suppressants for himself.

hindsight. instead, now he has to deal with these admittedly intense pangs of carnal desire. he knows why. how long had it been since he'd had a natural rut? definitely not since eighteen, because that's when he'd given up his freedom and they started feeding him suppressants (after all, can't have a feral wolf in rut running free throughout the barracks; bad for business; too dangerous to control). it makes sense that his body is working on overdrive now that it's finally tasted freedom.

(finally tasted a sweet scent and warm smile.)

toji isn't sure what he'll do when his rut really hits. he had thought that maybe he could get away with lying to you, passing it off as some contagious sickness and locking himself in his room for a few days until it passed. but then he got nervous thinking about just how bad this rut might be, and he figured he probably wouldn't be able to keep it from you even with the walls acting as a barrier.

there was also the option of telling you the truth. you'd probably be so accepting about it; after all, you've been nothing but understanding. and it seems like you know more about hybrids than your fellow humans, so he's sure you wouldn't judge him for something he can't really control. and yet despite all that, the thought of telling you feels strangely nerve wracking. some strange implication behind admitting just how vulnerable he'd truly be (and some sick thrill at the unspoken boundary that could end up being crossed).

a boundary line that he had scratched into the floor over and over again. so intent on denying the thought of ever being that close to you.

and yet he can't deny it. can't deny that the idea of trailing his tongue over the swells and divots of your body doesn't make him salivate. like the thought of your lips pressing into the ridges of his neck doesn't make his ribcage jump.

(like the thought of you saying yes to him doesn't make him want to lay the entire galaxy at your feet. because saying yes to him means something more than you'll ever realize. means bonding yourself to him for a lifetime. souls intertwined, the way only a mate can be—)

toji's presses his forehead against the damp tiled wall, exhaling shakily. there's a reddish pink shade crawling up his skin, spreading like liquid gold. his fist feels like nothing special, but it still offers a semblance of relief from that stupid aching feeling. the warmth of the water and the remnants of soap makes it easy for his fist to slide back and forth, and god he's so fucking hard. he's starting off fast, but he doesn't really care. all he knows is that it feels good, and it's utterly humiliating to be jacking off in the shower when you're just across the hall, so he just wants to get it over with.

but his brain? his brain lingers, cruel in its torture.

if he closes his eyes, toji can picture you doing it instead. your hand's a lot smaller, but it's softer than his—not rough with scars and callouses and danger. maybe you'd touch him slower, not as stupidly fast as he is, not with the mission to just get off and be done. no, you'd probably touch him with intention, eager to take him apart. he'd be glad to let you do as you please, so pathetically ready for whatever you want from him.

his fangs dig into the scar cutting over his lip, almost hard enough to taste blood. he thinks about sinking those fangs into the open canvas of your neck, and his dick twitches in response, eager and swollen. he tightens his grip and twists his wrist in the same way he's always done, knowing it'll get him there quick.

toji's head presses harder into the tiled walls, and he blinks the water away from his eyes as he tries to focus. his brain conjures up a strikingly detailed image of you pressing your lips against his dick, and that itself shoots a searing hot flash of arousal up his spine. but that's not all. he imagines that you'd be a lot more generous with your touches than he is. you'd touch him all over, gentle fingers tracing over the curve of his jaw and over the slopes of his cheeks. down over the planes of his chest and the ridges of his abs. gentle, the way only a lover's caress could be. chills run over his skin, the shiver so pleasurable it makes his breath hitch.

his high creeps up frighteningly fast, tingles shooting up the nerves in his body like he's never touched himself before. the muscles in his arm strain as heat pools in his lower belly, licking at his insides like an uncontrollable flame. the sound of the soapy water each time his hand moves is embarrassingly inappropriate, and he's briefly struck with the filthy thought of the type of sounds he'd be able to pull from your body if you just gave him the chance.

he wonders where to touch you to make you sing. where you'd be the most sensitive. what spots would have your voice catching on a strangled moan or have a breathy whimper escaping your throat. maybe you'd beg him for more, or perhaps you'd demand it from him. maybe you'd give in finally tell him what he's been dying to hear. in that same sweet voice, quietly sighing an earnest toji, i love y—

ropes of cum splatter between his fingers, and he's thankful that his muffled grunts are drowned out by the shower. his hips twitch, instinctual, and his dick pulses with every spurt, pelvic muscles contracting with effort. and throughout all of it, all he can think of is you.

(horrible, he is. so dirty, filthy.)

"ah fuck—" he feels messy, and hypersensitive. he stands there for a minute, catching his breath and doing his best to quell the mess in his head. it takes all but a minute to wash away the evidence of his crimes, but the thoughts of you still linger—infectious and deep.

(he thinks maybe he'll never be rid of you. you've latched onto him the way he has to you—parasitic and flesh deep. some part of him really likes that; a sick and twisted part.)

the wolf huffs out a tired sigh, standing under the pelting water like some kind of mindless idiot. what kind of freak was he? you offer him a place in your home and here he was jerking off in your shower with nothing but filth in his head. he's terrible; a dirty animal.

and yet, he feels good. feels good in the same way he feels when he sees you smile. or when you finally come back home. or when you grin at him from across the dining table as you watch him dig into his food. or when you accidentally fall asleep while watching some stupid movie.

his brain is foggy, and there's still a few aftershocks of pleasure tickling his nerves. but his guilt is smothered by that good feeling, pressed down into the deep recesses of his subconscious as he focuses on how you seem to have such an influence on his emotions.

(powerful, sneaky little thing.)

"hey toji?"

your muffled voice cuts through the pleasant haze in his head, and the panic is instant. he flinches so hard his elbow thuds against the shower wall, eliciting a yelp that he tries hard to recover from.

"y-yeah?!" he winces at the voice crack (trying to pretend he didn't just bust to the thought of you not a minute earlier), and clears his throat.

"i'm running low on period stuff so i'm gonna run down the street and grab some pads."

"i can go grab em if you want?" he replies, scrubbing his skin with a quickening pace, but then you chuckle and wave him off.

"no no it's fine. enjoy your shower. it's like two streets over, i'll be back soon."

"well…" he hesitates, but then nods even though you can't see him. "fine. be careful, y'hear?"

"yeah yeah…" your voice fades away as you head down the hall, and toji's shoulders relax. for a second he thought you might've somehow heard his less than appropriate little session, but instead you're just updating him on something he probably wouldn't have cared about many months ago. but here he is, ultimately caring so deeply.

hot water streams between toji's eyes, and he pushes his wet hair back with a tired huff. his ears fold under his palms, muffling all noises and for a second, the raging thoughts in his head subside.

(if it were up to him, he'd stay in this peaceful bubble for as long as he could. hoping, dreaming, praying that you'd join him in the space with no protests. comfort, chaos, and everything in between.)

****

the streets are a lot more deserted than they were a few hours prior, back when you were dragging toji to eat ice cream. now there's only faint chatter, the occasional squeals of laughter and excitement permeating the sounds of your slippers against pavement. normally you would've dragged toji out with you, especially so late on a saturday night, but since this is barely a 15 minute walk and you've been here countless times before, you decided not to bother him.

after all, you would grant toji as much peace as you could give him (god knows he deserved it and more).

there's some faint song playing over the speakers when you enter the store, instantly fading into muted background noise as you smile at the elderly man behind the counter. he recognizes you, a local frequenter, and smiles back before going back to the paper he was reading. your steps take you to the feminine products quickly, memorized route guiding your feet, and then you're scanning the shelves for familiar colors and brands.

the store is almost completely deserted, save for a few other likeminded individuals who needed a late night run. your fingers drift over boxes until you finally find the brand you like.

"excuse me? can you help me with this?"

the flinch that comes from you is almost embarrassing, but you're genuinely impressed by how quietly this guy seems to have snuck up on you. you glance over your shoulder carefully.

dyed blonde hair, dark roots, narrowed beady eyes. and yet a sheepish, awkward smile that makes your shoulders drop when you notice the box of pads in his head. you tilt your head questioningly, quirking a brow. he raises the box. "my girlfriend sent me out to get supplies but i have no clue what to pick for her…"

the helpless smile that crawls onto your face feels natural. at least he was trying, that in and of itself was a lot to ask for these days. "well do you know if she has a heavy flow or a light one?"

"heavy i think?" his brows furrow thoughtfully. "she says she bleeds a lot…"

"well then this is probably better for her than that." you reach for a different box on the shelf, one that's specifically labeled for handling heavy bleeding. "they're better for heavier flow. and they're longer so that should help her out."

he takes the box from you carefully, before smiling. something shines in his dark eyes. "thank you so much. i'm clueless when it comes to this stuff."

you chuckle, shaking your head. "no it's okay. at least you're trying."

"i would've been lost without your help. i'm naoya by the way." his smile gets a little more pointed, that gleam in his gaze brighter. he sticks his palm out expectantly.

warning bells start ringing in your head, but you don't know why.

"oh uh, nice to meet you…" you trail off, cautiously taking his hand. you're sure he's being polite, but you don't really understand why he's telling you his name. maybe it's paranoia, but you bite your tongue and hold off on giving him yours, something telling you that maybe you shouldn't be sharing that information.

the blonde doesn't comment on your lack of forthcoming, but something feels off. he looks like he knows something, like he's dissecting you on a surgical table. you let go of his hand, and awkwardly smile, before turning back to the shelf. his voice gets a little louder. "naoya zenin."

you freeze. the name washes over you, a brief sense of warmth, before it bleeds into something cold and jarring. you know this name well—heard it murmured from scarred lips a few times (in a voice that was filled with nothing but distaste.)

now if you think back, you can remember the same blonde hair and dark eyes being in the background of pictures you've seen on the internet. random news articles of what the head of one of the biggest companies in the country did that day. you don't know why you couldn't remember it earlier. maybe you just weren't expecting to see naoya zenin at your tiny little store so late at night. but he looks calm, as though it's all intentional, as though you should've expected to bump in to him like this.

the warning bells ring louder.

"so!" the blonde claps his hands together, brightly smiling as though he's catching up with an old friend. "how is he?"

you feel your tongue grow numb. an image of a moody scowl and twitching ears flashes behind your eyes, and you finally realize that warning bells had nothing to do with your own safety.

(too preoccupied with dedicating your care to someone else. someone who's probably patiently waiting for you back home.)

"who?" you're playing dumb, and you're sure he knows it because he just laughs and quirks his brow knowingly.

"you know who." he pins you with a level stare. "toji of course. my precious cousin."

you remain quiet, mind spinning. you're not sure if you should lie or continue playing dumb or just run and hope he isn't fast enough to follow. but naoya just continues on without a care in the world.

"let's stop beating around the bush." the blonde's smile drops, voice going serious in the same way you've seen it go on those television interviews. "i don't know how or why you're connected to him but i'm sure you know what he is by now."

"ah yes the wolf ears and tail really gave it away," you reply sarcastically, not even bothering to keep the bite out of your tone. naoya grins predatorily, making a show of leering at your blatant hostility.

"well yes, the poor beast was unfortunately born that way." naoya waves offhandedly, before his expression sours. "just my luck, he had to be born into my fucking family."

you snort out a scornful laugh, crossing your arms. "well it makes sense. i mean he might be the wolf, but it's pretty clear that dogs run in the family."

naoya pauses, before his smile returns. this time, it is icy, and yet there is spark of malice flickering in his eyes. "hah! you're more interesting than i thought. you look so boring from afar, you know?"

you glare at him irritably.

"but! you're much more entertaining than i expected. maybe that's why toji's hanging around you." naoya glances down at his fingernails with feigned interest, his voice dropping. "it's a shame he didn't teach you any manners though."

his hand drops to his side, and his expression darkens so fast it makes your head spin. "if it were up to me, i'd cut your tongue out and deliver it to him, you know?"

your bravado shatters, blood going cold. naoya seems to catch the change, so he just smiles again with that fake politeness. "but father says we should be nice and talk it out. so that's what i'm doing! i had no clue how i was going to find the time to chat with you, but i'm glad i caught you today."

you swallow, fingers creasing into the sleeves of your sweater.

"you know, when i told father i saw toji with you today, he was surprised. that freak doesn't seem like the type to get help from others, let alone humans like you and me." the blonde hums, amused. "but seems like he liked something about you. that, or you had something pretty valuable to offer."

you almost roll your eyes. clearly this asshole liked to hear himself talk.

"i mean i'm kinda surprised that you got close to that freak. don't you have any survival instincts?" he tuts, exaggeratedly pouting at you like you're nothing but a dumb child. the blood in your veins grows hot with indignation.

"he's not dangerous." your voice is resolute, stating a fact rather than an opinion. naoya observes you with mild interest. he hums thoughtfully, and you shift your weight not knowing what to do.

"you know, i saw you both being all cute on your little shopping trip." naoya's expression turns bored, almost like he's disgusted. he leans against the shelves haphazardly. "it's a shame i lost you both in the crowd as you left though. i would've stopped by at your house otherwise."

the threat is not lost on you. and something churns in your gut when you think about this man being anywhere near your house. near toji.

"i don't understand," you say, raising your head. you have no clue how you manage to keep your voice steady when your heart is beating so fast, but you'd rather not look too deep into that. "what exactly is it that you want from me?"

"you have…influence," naoya grins, peering at you. his expression is mocking. you think you might vomit. "i'm sure you can bat your eyes and convince my dear cousin."

when you swallow, it feels like rocks are sliding down your throat. "convince him to what?"

naoya's grin drops, eyes narrowing dangerously. "to go back to where he belongs."

your words tumble forth before you can even stop them, hot and indignant. "and what if he doesn't want to go back there?"

a burst of laughter escapes his throat, though it is sharp and unamused. "don't you get it? he doesn't have a choice. that's all he was born to do anyway."

you glare at him, teeth digging into your tongue so hard it hurts painfully. naoya's expression turns bright, a very dramatic flare of sick amusement filling his tone. "ohh i finally get it!"

he leans closer to you, smirking. "who would've thought my dear cousin went and found himself a girl!"

the traitor organ sitting in your ribcage gives an eager jump, getting distracted by its original threat. you steel your expression. "what are you even talking about?"

"no need to play coy. i understand!" he raises his arms like he means no harm, a greasy smile still splitting his face. "that just means you really should be able to influence him."

"you don't even know what you're saying." you roll your eyes, turning away from him, though you still keep his figure in your peripheral. "it's not even like that. we're barely even friends. the most i would say is acquaintances."

the lie bleeds through your teeth easily, molten lava. worth it if it means keeping him safe. away from the treacherous vines that seem so intent on chasing him and pinning him down.

"oh sure." the blonde chuckles, looking at you with a sharp mockery in his gaze. it's obvious he doesn't believe you, especially with how quickly his tone turns chilling. "i don't really give a damn who you are to him. let him know what he needs to do, or we're gonna have a problem."

"and if i can't convince him?"

naoya shrugs casually, but then he pins you with a stare that makes you feel like your bone marrow is turning to lead.

"well then, we'll just have to see what happens, won't we?" he says nothing more, but the implication is very clear. the blonde then glances down at the pads in his hands. his expression goes disgusted once more, and he haphazardly chucks the box back onto the shelf. "ew…" he mutters, dusting his hand over his coat. his eyes find you again, and then that same smile appears once more. "anyways, i'll definitely see you around! get home safe!"

your pulse is thudding wildly as you watch him leave, a heavy onset of nausea making your stomach churn like never before. the hidden threats were so carefully placed, but not obscure enough for you to miss, and that scares you even more because it says that this guy is just that confident. you stand in the aisle for another two mins, mind running in a thousand different directions. suddenly you feel strangely exposed, like you've been placed into a glass box for someone to observe your every movement.

(suddenly, you feel completely and utterly alone. scared and vulnerable and in real danger. suddenly, all you can think about is the brooding wolf you've left at home, and how seeing him is the only solution to making these feelings go away.)

you're out the door before you even realize it. your legs carry you back in the direction of your home, but your paranoia leads you to take as many convoluted turns that you can think of (because you can't shake the feeling of those beady brown eyes digging into your shoulder blades).

naoya zenin. you don't know how he shares blood with toji. if you squint hard enough you can maybe find some similarities in features. but still, you cannot understand how someone so outwardly horrible can be related to someone like toji. toji is not warm, not inherently sweet. but he is good, and that much is obvious to you. the same way you know this naoya is bad, with nothing but negative intentions.

when you finally reach your doorstep, you keep your head down and slip inside. your fingers double check every lock, every window. your mouth feels dry and there's too many weaknesses and he's definitely still out there and—

"hey."

the voice makes you jump, and when you look up, toji is staring at you—confused. his brow quirks as he peers at you through his wet hair. "well that was dramatic."

you sigh, quelling the thundering of your heartbeat. sweat beads on the skin of your palms, and you drag them over the fabric of your pants. "you just scared me."

"oh yeah, i'm so fucking terrifying." he sits on the couch, aggressively drying his wet hair with a towel. you snort, grinning as your eyes trail over the way his pointed ears fold under the weight of the fabric.

"shaking in my boots." toji rolls his eyes at your reply, and you pull off your coat with a quiet chuckle.

(honestly a little jarring how easy it is for you to relax in his presence. how easy it is to start smiling again.)

"i thought you went to get supplies?"

you freeze, glancing over your shoulder. "w-what?"

he motions to your empty hands. "you didn't get anything?"

your stomach drops. "oh um…" you clear your throat. "they were closed. so i came back."

it's almost laughable how quick the lie slips from your mouth; sickening, really, because it shouldn't be quite so easy to lie to someone who obviously trusted you. you've felt guilty before, but not like this. this goes past the dull surface ache and settles as a deep stinging, fraying your nerve endings. maybe it's because you know that you have no right to keep this from him; after all, it's his family. but something about the gleam in naoya's eyes makes your hair stand on end. if it were up to you, you'd stand in front of toji with a smile even with knives raining down your back.

the way toji's brow arches tells you that he's a little confused, maybe a little skeptical, but he shrugs and turns back to the tv, turning it on with a flick of his finger. "well okay then. i can grab some tomorrow on my way back home."

you inhale through your nose, forcing a smile. there's really no point stressing. naoya can't do much to you to begin with, not without starting something potentially dangerous with toji. so you just push it to the back of your mind and take a seat next to the grumpy wolf you realize you would do anything for.

(even lie.)

"thank you, toji," you say earnestly. the wolf gives you a sidelong glance, ears twitching at the sound of your voice, and he scoffs.

"whatever. it's not like i haven't done it before. quit bein' dramatic."

you grin, watching him cross his arms and sulk like an overgrown puppy. for some reason, his expression settles the chaos in your chest and you decide that whatever problem it is, you'll do anything it takes to keep it from him.

(perhaps it's silly, thinking that you could easily stand in front of a hybrid capable of tearing you to pieces and expect to be able to protect him. but you know he would do the same for you, and that's why it feels all too natural. easy.)

you think you will always be willing to offer him whatever space you have left. comfort, chaos, and everything in between.

****

toji doesn't consider himself a very intelligent person. not to say that he's dumb. no, he thinks he excels at street smarts. after all, no one survives a life like his without a brain.

but in terms of emotional intelligence.. well he doesn't feel all that confident. yet another area where he feels like you're a lot better than he is.

it scares him a little, how fast you can read him. how you can pick apart his every expression and behavior like it comes naturally to you. and then how you're able to to adapt and give him exactly the response he needs. whether it's sweet comfort or rational courses of action—it's perfect.

(you're perfect.)

but he's not like you. he cannot pick people apart, can't look at them and figure out what they're thinking. cannot read them like an open book the way you can.

but right now, he feels like something is wrong.

it's been almost a week since he's noticed this change in behavior. you've been looking over your shoulder like you're in some kind of horror movie. eyes constantly scanning your surroundings, fingers fiddling with the window locks. even peering outside through the gaps in your curtains.

you're nervous, he realizes. paranoid, like something's chasing you. whatever it is, toji understands that he doesn't like the way worry looks on you. in fact, he hates it. hates the way his ears can pick up your increased heartrate. hates the way he can smell the spikes of anxiousness in your scent.

he's trying to be a good housemate and respect your boundaries. trying not to be nosy and let you deal with your own issues like an adult. but then his mind wonders if there's something really wrong, if someone's giving you a hard time or stressing you out, and then he just gets angry.

(don't you know that he adores you? don't you know that you need only say the word and he'd kill a man for you? don't you know the amount of power you have over him?)

regardless, he's still trying to be a good housemate and respect your boundaries. but it's becoming increasingly more difficult to watch you come home everyday like there's someone chasing after you. even now, he watches you double check the door locks before you hurry over to your windows. double check the locks, tug the curtains shut, peer outside through the gaps.

only when you're done do your shoulders relax, and when you turn around, you jump when you notice him standing there staring at you. the surprise bleeds into a quick, barely there smile. "oh hey! how was your day?"

you don't even wait for his answer before you're turning around to hang your coat up, and that's enough to make him crack.

"alright what the fuck is wrong with you?" toji's voice cuts through the silence like ice, and you internally wince. defensive walls rise quickly, and then you're turning on him with fire in your eyes.

"excuse me?"

toji's bulky arms flex as he crosses them, staring down his nose at you completely unfazed. "you've been hiding something."

"i—"

"—and don't even bother tryin' to deny it. it's written all over your face."

the wolf watches you inhale heavily, and the crease in between your brows makes his fingers twitch (eager to reach out and smooth them down carefully).

you sigh, defeated. "remember last week when i went to the store that one night?"

toji nods.

"i, um, bumped into someone there." your fingers rub over your arms in an attempt to be soothing, and toji's frown deepens in tandem.

"who?"

you glance at him. guilt gnaws its way up your esophagus. "um, naoya zenin."

toji's reaction almost makes you vomit. his ears stand up straight, tail going rigid, and the anger that contorts his expression makes you shiver. "what?!"

his voice has taken on a timbre you haven't heard before, an inherently primal growl ripping through his vocal cords in a way that sounds almost painful. you wince, trying to placate by backtracking.

"i was gonna tell you—"

"what the fuck did he say to you?!—"

"he just—"

"that fucking creep i swear to god—"

"toji." your palms find his forearms in this strangely natural way that makes his stomach churn. steadying, stable, everything that he lacks. "please. can we just relax and sit down?"

his ears droop slightly, but he still maintains his heated glare. not that he's necessarily angry at you. but his palms feel too sweaty and his heartbeat feels too fast and his stomach feels too heavy. still, he forces himself to breathe deep through his nose, quelling the instinctual rise of feral panic that seems to want to burst from his veins. he lets your hands, barely able to fit around the width of his arms, maneuver him to the couch.

when you take a seat next to him, he can smell the nerves.

(spiked; hints of bitterness hiding between layers of sugary sweet.)

more so, you look guilty. it briefly strikes him that perhaps you feel bad about keeping this from him. he's then struck with a similar feeling when he realizes he's kept something from you too. this is all followed by a searing streak of anger when he remembers the reason why you both have been hiding things from one another.

(maybe it wouldn't be so bad to live up to their expectations of him. be the real curse of the zenin bloodline. they always said he was an uncontrollable animal. maybe it would be okay to finally prove them right. have his family's life force dripping red rivulets through his pointed claws. taste its metallic tinge between his sharpened teeth.)

"he came up to me at the store," you start, wiping down your palms on your thighs. "he already knew that i knew you. said he saw us walking around that night shopping."

toji's claws dig into the flesh of his palm painfully. the memory is now tinged with something poisonous. always breathing down his neck.

"he was talking about how his father was surprised that you were even interacting with another human. and then he said it was a shame he lost us in the crowd because otherwise he'd come to our house for a visit."

you watch the wolf next to you clench his fists, and your lips slant.

"what else did he say?" toji tries to keep his voice even, but it comes out strange. your teeth dig into the flesh of your bottom lip painfully.

"he… he said that since i was clearly c-close to you, i should convince you to do something."

"and what's that?"

you pause, before letting the bitter words spill. "convince you that's it's time to go back where they want you to be."

"that fucking asshole!" toji's voice is akin to a roar, and you wince as you watch him stand and snarl like he's been beaten. he pushes his claws into his hair and grits his teeth. "how fucking dare they even—"

another pained growl rips from his throat. the sound makes your stomach coil, and before you can stop yourself, you're reaching out to grab his arm. his head whips around at the contact, baring his teeth with a snarl as he ears point upright. but then he sees your expression, sad and tired, and his shoulders drop immediately.

"you know that i don't want you to go, right?" you ask him quietly. toji stares at you, long and hard. his jade eyes are bright with anger, but there's a hint of fear in there that makes you want to cry.

"… you sure?" his voice is so quiet you almost have to strain to hear it. your fingers tighten around his forearm. even with the way he is standing over you, you think he looks smaller. like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"i'm sure." your voice is resolute, like it's always been when it comes to him. his exhales slowly, and you smile at him in this tragic way that makes him want to rip his eyes out.

(you're too good. too trusting. too confident in the fact that he won't lead to your downfall.)

"kid," he calls out, voice strained.

"hm?"

"i gotta tell you somethin' too."

you frown, but then you're pulling him back to the couch (right next to you; close enough that your scent wraps around him once more—warm, blanket-like), and then you're looking at him earnestly. "what is it?"

he tells you all about his run in with naobito zenin. details the angry confrontation in which his stupid uncle had warned him to go back to where he belonged, tired of the wolf's running game. how the old man had been close to calling his men to come get him before toji had resorted to nearly crushing his windpipe in retaliation. how naobito had warned toji that hurting him was a punishable offense that would lead to him being locked up again. and how, at the end of it all, toji had told him that it would be worth it if it meant being rid of the stupid zenins once and for all.

and then he finishes by telling you that his uncle was so convinced toji would end up back there on his own anyway, because he was nothing more than a mindless animal.

(he carefully leaves out the threat naobito made about putting him down. and he also leaves out how none of that scared him more than the idea of his family's clutches ultimately reaching you.)

you sit there and listen with an expression that bleeds horror. the divot in your brow is so deep toji worries it may become permanent, and your eyes shine with a sadness he's never seen before. when he's done speaking, you exhale shakily.

"kid, i'm never gonna be rid of them," he says quietly. "they're always gonna be breathing down my neck. which means they're always gonna be breathing down yours too."

you nod slowly, eyes distant as you stare at the edge of the coffee table like it's got all the answers in the world.

"there's nothing i can really do." he finishes with that final statement.

you chew on your bottom lip quietly. something is working behind your eyes, calculating, evaluating. "you threatened him?"

toji scoffs. "of course i fucking did. threatened to kill him and his brat son."

you turn to him, eyes alight. "would you?"

toji's heart leaps into his throat. he will never deny the amount of times he's thought about it. since the day he was old enough to realize his own brute strength. every day he was thrown into that damn cell. every fight where he would scratch and claw just to live another day. and every day since the old man stopped him in the streets.

the thought has lingered in the back of his mind, poisonous. rotting. because he knows that it is the only way. he knows that they deserve it. he knows that it is the one path that could lead him to peace.

(that could lead to him wiping the worry from your eyes.)

it's always been there. and now you…

"you can't be serious?"

"toji, answer the question. would you do it or not?"

"of course i would!" he fires back quickly, before taking a steadying breath. "you don't get it, kid. i got no love for them. been dreaming about ripping those bastards apart since the day i was smart enough to realize they only saw me as an animal."

you nod slowly, still chewing on your lip. something settles behind your eyes, and the thrill it sends up toji's spine is almost sadistic. your voice is flat when you speak, but it does not waver. "toji… if there was something that came into my life that was threatening me and my loved ones. our livelihood, our safety, our security… i wouldn't really be thinking about morals anymore."

toji stares at you mutely, and you continue. "so… if there's an unwelcome guest showing up at the door, and we've asked them—no, begged them—to leave us alone and they haven't listened… then maybe the only thing left to do is force them to leave."

his mouth runs dry, and simultaneously, his ribcage jumps. you're looking at him with all the conviction in the world, and something in his deep complicated web of feelings for you shifts on its axis.

(you are sweet. you are peace and comfort and good. you are innocent and untouched by the horrors of the world in the best way. you are completely humane and understanding and you give nothing but kindness. you've offered him the world and he's gratefully cradled it in his palms. which is why this deeply root loyalty, this protectiveness, this affection—it has all come so naturally to him.

he would show mercy if you wanted him to. he would rip apart limbs if you wanted him to. he would dig a knife into his own intestines if you wanted him to.

but this. this is something he's wanted; dreamed about for as long as he can remember. cursed himself for thinking about because it makes him evil and wrong and horrible. but here you are—giving him support. telling him that you want it too.

this utterly wrong and animalistic thing that makes him the monster.

maybe you aren't all that pure. maybe he's the one who corrupted you. but then he thinks back to the fire in your eyes, that same resolute determination in your tone. and then he thinks that it couldn't have been him. it had to have come from within you, this desperate and complicated decision.

and then toji realizes that the reason it appeared is because you value him so highly. because on your moral scale, it is worth it to sin if it means keeping him safe. it is worth it to be animalistic if it means having him by your side.

he wants to envelop you in his arms. find your lips and breathe his own soul into you because he knows you'd keep it safe. knows you're willing to do whatever it takes for him.

the same way he is for you.

he loves you, he thinks. it's just that simple.)

and that's all the confirmation he needs.

taglist: @h4wkz @babyblue0t7 @en-happiness @ourfinalisation @lymsfm @mahoubitch @teddybeartoji @deedeeznoots @polarbvnny @starmapz @nonamebbsblog @echodead @totallygyomeiswife @venussdovess @your-mum3000 @haydensjw @abadbitchblogs @marajafarli @twinky-wink @t4ters @17362939 @shadowlover321 @koko-1025 @daniella666girl @d1cklethep1ckle @an-ever-angry-bi @hibiscy @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @thisisew @crystaldreamland @namjooningera @call-memissbrightside @chugao @szired @keiva1000 @yoongies-bby @giamee @hypnoctiis @nappingmoon @tananaxx @twinklingbeautifulstars @friedchicken-tendou @cupcaketeddybehr @sp1racle @ninani-nanina @entumtum @huuuhwhaat @satorushousewife @moonlitreveri3 @seren-dipitt

if you asked to be on the tag list but don’t see your name here, it’s either because your blog was blank/empty or didn’t have an age. if your name is here but you didn’t get a tag notif, check your privacy settings !!

[heeliopheelia]

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 (s. jake x reader)

tw: somnophilia, fem! reader, unprotected sex, established relationship, pet names,

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

Laying on his back, Jake stares at the ceiling as another drop of cold sweat dribbles down the back of his neck. The ticking of the clock and your slow breaths are the only thing he can hear in the quiet bedroom, as he should be at three in the morning after all. 

But he finds it really hard to go back to a peaceful slumber when just two minutes ago you were straddling his dick and he was just so close to cumming. And all of those sweet moans of yours, the slight shaking of your thighs and the mesmerizing bounce of your tits – all of it, just to turn out to be a dream. 

With a heavy sigh, he turns to his side and looks at your sleeping self, so blissfully unaware of the armageddon that you’ve caused in his brain. His eyes skim over your bare back, rising and falling with deep breaths, and suddenly he’s reminded of how just seconds ago he was thrusting, and thrusting, and thrusting up into you so well-

Shutting his eyes tightly, Jake swallows hard and stays like this for a minute or two to calm himself. When another, tired sigh pushes past his lips, he moves closer to you and drapes his arm over your waist, hoping that cuddling up to you will make him fall asleep faster, so that he can wake up in the morning and fuck you properly sooner. 

Another issue he’s being faced with is that the night is so cold, and you’re just so warm and inviting, laying so prettily right next to him. The fairylights that you’ve left turned on for the night cast a warm light on you, giving him a perfect view on the fading hickeys he left on your shoulder blades mere hours ago, and now really, how is he supposed to stop himself. 

The twitch of his hard cock becomes more unbearable with every second and then he realizes – he just loves you too much to let you sleep in peace. He can’t allow for your unforced beauty to go to waste, after all. 

“My pretty girl,” he whispers, barely audible as his voice is still heavily laced with sleep. 

The shorts he’s sleeping in are already drenched and so uncomfortable to wear, so he carefully slips them down to discard them on the floor, right next to where all of your clothes from last night are resting as well.

He lets his impatient hands wander to admire your curves, and a low grunt rips out of his throat as his erection grazes against your thighs by accident. 

He’s an asshole – he knows it. But not that big of an asshole to enjoy all of this without you. So, instead, he settles on rubbing his hard cock against your perked ass, biting his lip with the first touch of your plush skin. 

“Need you s’ bad,” he mutters, leaning forward to pepper your neck with small, sloppy kisses. 

One of his hands drifts to your chest. Whatever shame he might or might not have been fighting against moments ago, it all goes away when the glimpse of your quiet moan sounds through the room the second his hand touches the soft swell of your breast. 

Jake’s lips twitch up with a smile, and now without really holding back, he rolls his hips over your ass, letting his fingers rub and gently pinch around your hardening nipple. His other hand slips down to your pussy and a louder whine comes out of your throat when his thumb finds your clit.

“Knew you’re gonna like it,” he chuckles raspily into your neck. 

His cock finds a perfect place to slot against you, thrusts growing more desperate and less cautious as the release he’s been craving for so long has finally started building up again. 

He hugs you close to his chest, panting against your skin as he humps you like a pillow. Warm hand groping your tits, his tongue lays flat and licks up your neck, finishing at your jaw and nibbling underneath the bone. 

You begin to squirm underneath his touch just as you begin to get wetter, and still in your sleep, you push your ass back into his pelvis. He feels so dirty, but too good to stop too, thriving off the idea that he can make you come even in your sleep. Jake loves that you need him just as much as he needs you.

Rocking his hips into you, your boyfriend is careful not to move you around too much, after all waking you up would make him feel guiltier than he already is. His precum soon smears all over your ass, his big hand pressing harder onto your clit in desperation to make you wetter. 

And when he can finally hear the longed for filthy squelching underneath his fingertips, he breathes out and kisses your shoulder. 

“Just the tip, baby. I promise.” His hand hastily reaches down and lines his cock against your entrance. Slowly, he pushes his mushroom head inside, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Can’t resist you.”

Your tight hole jerks out a louder whine out of him, not expecting you to suck him in so well, and if not for his self control he would’ve blown his load inside you right then and there. But he decides to enjoy you, to edge himself for a little longer, sinking his red tip in between your walls once by once. 

Just the tip, he has to remind himself after a particularly needy moan of yours.

His fingers skim over your perked nipple again, then cup your breast in his hand and squeeze it gently as he can feel himself getting closer to release. But then you tense in his arms and warm release streams down your thighs suddenly, coating Jake’s fingers. You whimper, on the verge of waking up, and he smiles slyly with satisfaction that he actually made you come in your sleep.

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmurs breathlessly. His eyes are focused on your perfect ass, hands soon following their lead and groping at your soft flesh. 

And then another pleased sigh leaves your lips and he just can’t help himself any longer, so he pulls out of you quickly with a nasty smack and taps his dripping cock over your ass, thick streams of his cum glazing your skin not even a blink later. His mouth falls open as his chest heaves so rapidly in comparison to yours. 

He can’t get himself to do much else than to fall back into the pillows and wrap his arms around you, pulling you as closely to him as it’s humanly possible. 

“Love you, love you so much,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your jawline. “Promise I’ll reward you in the mornin’.”

Nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, he can feel his eyes starting to droop after the restless night. 

taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @dilucsleftshoelace @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @seongiewon @nichoswag @s00buwu @mon2sunjinsuver @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @criminalyun @enhabooks @antoinettenotfound

a/n: i used to love this the first time i wrote this but now it's just... meh... idek if this is worth putting on my masterlist lmfao

[peoniesnro]

Perfect Partner | Sequel 2.1

Synopsis - You find you have no one to turn to except, Jeon Jungkook!!

Paring- Jeon Jungkook × Reader

Genre- Yandere | Dark Romance

Warnings- Yandere (Mentions of kidnapping/ Emotional manipulation/ Toxic and unhealthy love/ Obsessive Love/ Threats against loved once/ Forced Intimacy/ Abusive behavior/ Controlling behavior/ Power play/ Jeon is the same sweet asshole/ Unhealthy coping mechanisms/ Reader is broken/ Possesiveness/ Hope I haven't missed anything) SMUT (Making out/ Finger suckings (Palm too)/ Dry humping/ Humiliation/ Begging/ Groping/ Heavy degradation/ Dirty talking/ Unprotected sex/ Rough sex/ Multiple orgasms/ Begging for cum/ Chocking/ Creampie/ Shower sex/ Threats during sex/ Crying during sex/ Daddy kink!!/ Sex tapes/ Mentions of bondage, shoe ridings/ Again I hope I missed none) Please remember this is yandere!!!

Word count- 18.7K

a/n- Hello there babies!!!! My apologies for splitting the sequel into two parts but I had to considering this was getting too long (we have 18K words already). If I contniued to write untill the end, I'd have ended up writing 50K words and we all would've be in our sixties by the time I uploaded it. So,bear with me while I first upload this one and let's wait for the next one. Also, in this one I paid more attention to SMUT (like half of this is smut), so it might looks like nothing is happening. But I promise, the sereis will end with the next part. (Let's hope Daebi gets what she deserves!) Thank you so much for reading and the support you've shown. I love you all sosososososooo much ❤️.

RUNRUNRUN

This is the second sequel, read the first part here -

Perfect Partner

Coffee?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You open your heavy eyelids, feeling as if they are glued. Every inch of your body is sore. Head throbbing. Unmistakable signs of heavy crying in the previous night. You wince in pain as the bright sunlight leaking through the ashy curtains strikes your eyes. You groan softly as you try to move your body,only to realize you can’t. That’s when you realize that you’re not even in bed. In fact, you can see the empty spacious bed right across you.  

You’re sitting upright. A soft gasp escapes you. Memories of the previous night slowly start to flood your mind. 

The call. 

Jungkook.

The video.

Daebi.

Hoseok.

And your little breakdown!

The last thing you can remember is you crying ugly into Jungkook’s oversized t-shirt. His words which didn’t quite reach your ears. His soft kisses on your hair. And his arms that were safely wrapped around your petite figure. The very same arms still wrapped around you.

You’re still in his lap. 

Still in the same position where you sobbed like a grieving widow. Your head pressed against his chest. One of your hands is still clutching the fabric of his t-shirt tightly, curled up like a wounded puppy. Jungkook’s cheek is propped up on your head. And judging by the way his chest heaves ever so gently, you know he is asleep. He has fallen asleep while keeping you on his lap. For the entire night. The realization almost makes you feel bad. Almost though. Because no matter what, he is still your kidnapper and waking up in his arms it doesn’t bring comfort.

Absolutely not!

It sends a chill down your spine. You need to get away from him. It was a moment of weakness that you had the previous night. You were heartbroken. Devastated. It was unbearable pain that you endured. It pained you more than how it pained you the day Hoseok told you that he needs to break up. That he’s in love with someone else. Having your boyfriend cheated on you was another thing. But the woman who he cheated with to be your best friend? That’s a completely new territory of pain. 

Then she helped this lunatic to get you into this situation? The thought alone makes you want to laugh aloud. How crazy is that? How pathetic is your life? 

You ran to Daebi when Hoseok broke up with you. And she had you crying on her shoulder while she was the reason for your tears. She trashed Hoseok like she genuinely despised him with her guts. She got wasted with you on your hardest nights. Only for everything to turn into a lie. One blatant lie. 

It’s humiliating when you think about those moments now. How oblivious you’ve been. Hell, you even ran to her when the AI Jungkook started to scare the shit out of you. AOnce again, you ran to the very person behind it all.

Will there be anything harsher that can happen in your life? You don’t think so. So, of course, you were hysterical last night. And this motherfucker, who thought he had the right to drag your already pitiful, pathetic life even lower- had taken advantage of the situation. You would’ve never allowed him to even lay a finger on you if it wasn’t the pain that numbed you of the other senses. 

You wish you could just storm away from his hold. Scream at him. Let all your pain, anger and frustration out on him. The thing is though, despite everything, he is still the same Jungkook who managed to get you here. The same man who looks at you with a crazed look in his eyes whenever you act stubborn. And unfortunately, you are still the same person you were yesterday. Broken. Weak. Scared. Trapped. You are still afraid of this man. Very. Hence your weak attempt of stretching your body slowly. Trying to pry his arms away without waking him. You just want to get out of his hold. 

It doesn’t work. Just as you try to move an arm, his grip tightens around you. A soft whimper escapes him as he rubs his cheek against your hair. “No..” He breathes. A quick kiss to the top of your head follows that. You freeze. “Five more minutes please…” He adds again. Voice soft and hoarse and his words are nothing but a quiet murmur. There was a time that the same hoarse voice in the morning had made you blush violently. Made you excited. Made your pussy clench around nothing. And you would like nothing more than to say that it doesn’t do anything like that to you anymore. Nothing even closer. Then why are you clutching his shirt like your life depends on it? Then why does your breath catch up in your throat, that way? 

Well, it’s because you are scared. Right? Especially, after what you did yesterday, you have all the reasons to be scared. What if he decided to lock you up in a room? What if he decided to chain you to a wall? What if-

“You hungry?” JungKook brings a hand to push back your hair from your face. Doesn’t take his hand right away. He starts to gently massage your scalp. His voice is still sleepy. His movements are deliberate. “Hm? Pretty?” He questions again in your silence. 

“How?” You don’t answer his question. Instead you throw another one at him. 

“How, what?” He still doesn’t loosen his grip. Not even a little bit. Keeps you pressed against his body. 

“How come you have that v-video?” You manage to get your words out without breaking down. A pang shoots across your chest. You’ll never get over that. No. 

“I just happened to have it.” He answers vaguely, much for your displeasure. Yet you decide not to question further about the matter. You change the course instead. 

“How lon-” This time your voice cracks up. New lump forming in your throat. It pains you. Even the memory of it pains you as if you’re physically bleeding. Even though hours have passed, the pain returns to you fresh. Just like how it was the first time you saw the video. “L-long?” You clutch Jungkook’s t-shirt even tighter, looking for strength from a piece of fabric. “Ho-how long have they-”

“Longer than you think.” JungKook answers you, saving you the misery of having to ask it aloud. “It doesn’t matter, princess. It’s all in the past now. You need to let that go, you know. They don’t deserve you. You deserve much better. They can fuck off.” He finally loosens his grip a little bit. Just enough for him to bring his hand which was in your hair to your chin, and lift your face up. You just let him. He gazes deeply into your eyes. His eyes glowing golden in the morning light. “They aren't worth your time.” Smiles at you softly. 

Easy for him to say. It wasn’t him who had been madly in love with the same person half of his life. It wasn’t him who trusted someone so badly that the very obvious signs have become obscure. You bite into your bottom lip to stop the trembling. To stop the sting in your eyes. You are exhausted. Can’t survive another crying session. 

“Hey, hey!” Jungkook sighs. “Don’t cry please. I swear, I didn’t want to hurt you, baby. But you weren’t trusting me enough to know that I’m not the bad guy. You were thinking that bitch of a friend of yours could do any good to you. I had to make you see things clearly. I’m so sorry that it hurts. But I’ll make it okay, yeah? I’ll make sure you’re okay. Don’t cry now. Hate seeing you cry.” He rests his forehead against you. You hate to be so close to him. You’re tired, however. So, you give up. Just focus on trying not to cry. Focus on pretending that his presence actually calms you down. 

It’s all because you’re heart broken. Once you’re healed, you’ll never feel comfort in him again. Then, you don’t plan on living this life for that long anyway. It’s not like you got much to lose at this rate. And, besides getting out of this luxurious prison, now you have a confrontation to do. You have to meet Daebi and Hoseok. You have to slap Hoseok hard across his face. 

You have to call Daebi a ‘bitch’ to her face. 

…………………

You eye your breakfast wearily. Even the sight of the delicious- looking pancakes makes your stomach churn awfully. You have no appetite at all. Jungkook, however, never was a fan of you skipping meals. He’s annoying. Too freaking annoying. All you want is to fall deeper into the hole of misery. Just sulk. Be alone with the pain. Such a shame that you’re not allowed to make even simple decisions for yourself. 

It’s ridiculous really. Jungkook hasn’t done anything bad. He’s been nothing but kind to you. Caring. Ever so gentle. Loving. Warm. But you’re still afraid. Maybe that fear is deeply rooted somewhere in your brain. With no way of escaping. Maybe it’s because you’ve experienced how much he can change when it’s needed. How he’s turned into a monster when things aren’t going in his way. He might not have done anything bad yet but deep down you know he will, if he wants that. 

So, of course you slightly flinch in your seat when Jungkook suddenly sighs. You know exactly what is coming even before Jungkook opens his mouth. That’s why you instantly dig your fork into the soft pancakes. But then he surprises you with his words. 

“You loved him that much? You loved him so bad that it still hurts you? After all this time? It’s been years, isn’t it?” 

Yes!

That’s the simple and direct answer. You don’t say it aloud, however. See, the fear. Jungkook will not appreciate that answer. 

“Why?” Jungkook asks again. You don’t look at him. Just keep picking at your food. Trying not to think too hard about his question because it’ll surely make you cry again. 

Why? He asks. You can come up with a list. You know you can but you don’t want to. Jungkook grabs the stool next to you. It screeches against the floor, making you flinch. 

“Tell me, baby? What does that motherfucker have that I don’t?” He bends down in an attempt to look at your eyes. You don’t avoid his eyes nor do you look at them. He won’t like the answers if you tell him. For a start, you would like to bring up the fact that Hoseok hadn’t kidnapped you. How he hadn’t created a damn app to traumatise you. But Jungkook won’t like those answers. Besides, it’s not like you’ve hurt completely because of love. No. You are hurt about many things. You loved Hoseok, yes. Maybe you still do. The thing is, though, you’ve come to the conclusion that he’s a cheater a long time ago. And you’ve been loving him less each day ever since. This is not about that. No. This is about trust and betrayal. 

“I don’t love him anymore.” You simply mumble before stuffing your mouth with a forkful of pancakes. Jungkook scoffs. 

“Yes, but you did.”

“People make mistakes. It’s just past.”

“Yeah? Then why are you sulking? Why is my pretty girl’s eyes all bloodshot and why does she look so tired?” 

You put the stupid fork down. It looks like you will have no way of escaping this conversation. “I hate them,” You exhale. Close your eyes. “I hate them and I hate myself. I hate you. I hate how I trusted them ever so easily. I hate that I trusted you. I hate how much of a stupid, pathetic loser I am. I fucking hate my life.” You blurt out before you can even process. Just as the last word leaves your mouth you feel insanely calmed. As if you’ve put down a heavy burden you’ve been carrying around. Just for a minute, however. In the next minute, your face is caught between Jungkook’s rough fingers. He turns your face toward him. That strangely soft and warm look he had in his eyes all this morning has vanished. In its place now is that madness. The look you fear so much. It’s just like the time you told him that he’s sick and he didn’t love you. He’s staring you down just like he did that day. You gulp harshly. A shiver runs down your spine. 

Jungkook brings his face closer to you. Close enough until you can feel the tip of his nose nudging against yours. “You,” he grits. “Can hate them all you want. That is what the bastards deserve. And baby,” he squeezes your cheeks hard. Hard that it hurts you. “You can hate me too. Because like I said, you will learn to love me one day. But,” he pauses for a moment. “Don’t ever fucking say you hate yourself. You hear me?” Questions. “Do you?” Shakes your head. “Do not ever fucking talk bad about you.” 

All you can do is stare back at him. Wanting badly to glare. Wanting badly to scream. He controls everything in your life. From what you eat to what you wear. Now he wants to control your thoughts as well? You’re already physically trapped. He wants you to be mentally trapped as well? 

“I can do whatever I want.” You spit back. God, you wanted to sound as how you feel. Angry. Spiteful. Powerful. But the way you say it is completely the opposite. You sound weaker than ever. Instead of a statement it sounds like a question. And all that it does is make your eyes well up. How helpless you are. 

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “No you can’t, Pretty. Because, guess what? You are fucking mine and I don’t like when people talk bad about what’s mine. Even you yourself.” He lets go of your face. Just to pick up the fork. You stay motionless as he takes a piece of pancake in it and brings it to your mouth. “Now just eat like a good girl.” 

You turn your gaze away. Oh, the way you want to throw a tantrum. The way you want to stand up for yourself. “I’m not hungry.” You use your palms to wipe away the unshed tears from your eyes. Jungkook exhales in frustration.

“If you want revenge, I can make that happen, you know. I can avenge you.” He drops the fork without any further fuss, which surprises you. Yet again. But that’s not what makes you snap your head toward him back. He’s controlling everything. And you’re too weak to change that. But… But this is something you’ll never want. You don’t know if you want revenge. Maybe. Maybe not. All you know is that you want a chance for a confrontation. You want to scream at Hoseok. Then above everything, you want Jungkook to stay away. He won’t rob you of your chance for salvation. 

“No!” You gasp. “No Jungkook,” Finally, you manage to glare at him. “I’ll never forgive you if you lay a finger on one of them. I’ll hate you to my grave and I promise you, you’ll never see the day I’ll become yours.” You don’t say the part where you’ll never be his either way. Following your words a heavy silence falls. A deafening silence. Just the gentle sound of the heater filling the air. And Jungkook’s glare. 

You expect him to get mad. Expect him to threaten you with something bad. Yet it seems, this day is full of surprises. He does nothing sort of that. Simply gets to his feet. Waste no time as he rounds the kitchen island and walks past you toward the doorway. Almost leaves you to be. That’s when you suddenly burst out another question. Or a request. You don’t know where it came from. 

“I just want to meet them.” Your voice makes Jungkook halts in his track. A soft yet bitter chuckle escapes him. 

“Not a fucking chance.” He informs you before leaving this time for real. 

Of course. Who were you kidding?

………………….

You haven’t seen Jungkook all day. Mainly because you've been holed up inside your (his) room. Just after your little but not- so- civil chat in the morning, you stormed into your room. Have spent the entire day in bed. Just like you wanted. Morphing. Sulking. Reminiscing. Going through your memories, looking for signs and clues that you must’ve missed. Completely drowning in your misery. 

And Jungkook hasn’t even poked his head in. Not even once, which is very unlike him. He never does that. Never allows you to be alone for more than five minutes unless it’s really necessary. Like when you are in the bathroom or he is.  He would always breathe down your neck. Not giving you any chances to try anything funny. Or he just wants to be around you. Even though you don’t talk to him let alone entertain him. 

Then there is the fact that he hasn’t been worried about your meals today. Sometimes, he acts like your father. Always making sure you eat well. Not today. You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday and there is no Jungkook to nag you about it. 

You find that awfully weird. Odd. Even your insides churn. It’s nearing midnight now and the entire apartment is in eerie silence. You sit back on Jungkook’s bed, letting the dark grey silk sheets fall across your body. 

When you first realized that Jungkook wasn't going to come and bother you, you were happy. Grateful. It was exactly what you wanted — a moment alone. You expected you’d feel better. At peace. Because you hate Jungkook’s ever- looming presence. This was the day you’ve been dreaming about ever since you woke up in this apartment next to Jungkook. The thing is, however, you feel neither. You feel worse to be honest. Feel anxious. So fucking restless. If you're being honest with yourself, all this time, you’ve been waiting for Jungkook to barge inside the room. You were expecting him. When he didn’t it had put you on edge. Now you can no longer just sit back and wait. 

You remove the sheets as you place your trembling feet on the warm carpeted floor. This is truly maddening. How Jungkook is affecting you, even when he is not around. You don’t like this silence. It’s unsettling. You don’t want Jungkook, but at the same time you want him. At least you’ll know he’s not planning to kill you or something when you have eyes on him. Right? That’s why you feel like you’re losing your mind. That’s the only reason you step out of the room and walk toward the living room in silence. That’s exactly why a breath of relief escapes your lips when you spot the said man sprawled on the couch. 

The TV is on. Muted. Luminous colors of the screen are flashing across Jungkook’s face. His eyes are deeply fixed on the screen. You can only see the side of his face. Chiseled jaw. Prominent nose. Glinting eyes. Pink pretty lips. His lip ring glistens in various colors. His hair has turned purple since the person on the screen is standing in a purple background. He is ethereal, isn’t he? Simply not human. Can’t be human. Oh, you hate him. Hate how good looking he is. 

Jungkook turns his head slowly, obviously sensing your presence. Or he must’ve heard you approaching. His eyes meet yours. They are still not soft. Still angry. Still stiff. You stay that way for a long minute. Then you turn around. Fast. Making a beeline for the kitchen. 

……………………….

Despite feeling very anxious and restless without  your captor around, the other major reason that forced you out of the comfy bed sheets was hunger. It doesn’t matter how stubborn, rebellious, and alone you want to be, in the end, you’re just a human who needs fuel to function. An entire day without food isn’t serving you well. Your stomach is grumbling. And you feel weak. 

You scan your eyes around the now familiar kitchen. Clean and tidy. Spotless. Jungkook is the tidiest person you’ve ever seen. Yet today it seems like no one has used the kitchen at all. It’s funny how you’ve never cooked anything in this kitchen. It was always Jungkook who cooked for you. Now, after all this time, it feels ridiculous to even think about making your own food. Besides, it's not as if you want to cook in this place anyway. It makes it oddly homey. When you start to cook in a place it means you are going to stay there for a long time. Not just a couple days like at a hotel. But in a place where you’d come back every evening. No. You don’t want that at all. You’ll never get used to living in this prison. 

Your body, however, doesn’t care what you want or not. Another growl erupts from your tummy. It’s getting unbearable. Like you are starting to eat yourself from the inside out. Maybe you can eat cup noodles. That’s not similar to cooking, right? All you have to do is boil some water. You give yourself a tiny nod before turning toward the pantry where you know noodles are. 

“Are you hungry?” 

A loud scream leaves your throat as you turn back at light speed. Almost lose your balance at how startled you are. Jungkook just stands in the doorway, completely unphased at the fact that you lost your shit because of him. You clutch your chest with both your hands, scowling at the man in front of you. He and his damn sleazy movements. 

“Want me to order something?” Instead of any apology for startling you, Jungkook fishes out his phone. “What do you want?” Asks again when he has the device on his hand. You take a minute, gaping at his face. Even the sound of that makes your mouth salivate. Yet you shake your head. You don’t want to look even weaker in his eyes. Someone who’s incapable of anything. How shameful that you have to seek him for every little thing. 

“I’m not hung-” You start to refuse his offer just to get cut off when he suddenly closes the distance between you. Two long strides and your feet are touching. 

“For fucks sake, (___), don’t fucking make me the bad guy.” He barks. “Don’t make me force things on you. I,” He pauses for a long breath. When he speaks next his voice drops an octave lower. “Really hate it when you’re freaking stupid to see things clearly. And I’ll hate it even more if I have to fucking knock some sense into you.” His eyes bore into yours without even blinking. You feel your heart skip a beat before starting to go mad. Even your stomach churns awfully. You wouldn’t have been able to hide the shaky breath you let out even if you tried to. Fear rises up in your throat in the form of bile, even when you haven’t had anything in your system. “Don’t make me do things that both of us will regret.” Jungkook adds lastly. Doesn’t step away from you. Just keeps his ground, clearly expecting you to answer. You don’t know what the answer he’s looking for. Yet you answer with another question. Your voice is quiet and meek.

“What are you going to do Jungkook? Hit me? Kill me?” You bite back the tremble in your voice with much struggle. Jungkook looks at you for a second like he’s surprised, then he shakes his head. 

“You? Never. But I can certainly make everyone else in this world suffer. You don’t even have a single idea about what I'll do for you baby. Even for simple things. You refuse to eat? Lemme just make you want to eat.” He finally steps back. Scrolls through his phone and then turns it around to show you the screen. A picture. Photo. Of someone who’s dearly familiar to you. Hair dyed in silver and an earring on one ear. Smiling to someone hidden from the camera. 

Park Jimin!

You gasp aloud. That picture looks new. Last time you saw him, he had black hair. Park Jimin is someone who’d dye his hair a new color every month but you haven’t seen him with silver hair before. You know it’s a new picture. 

Did Jungkook take it?

Does he know Jimin as well?

Did someone else take the picture and send it to Jungkook?

Why is he showing you this now? Is he threatening you? 

Your eyes dart between the screen and Jungkook’s face. Jungkook smiles softly. “You won’t want me to just make any of your loved ones hurt now, will you?” He locks the device. You watch as your friend’s image disappears. “Because, I will, pretty. I fucking will.” He pockets the device back again. You feel nauseous. There’s a sickening joy in Jungkook’s voice. 

“Y-you- you wouldn’t.” You stare at him. That smile on his lips never even falters. 

“Oh, but I will.”

“I told you, if-if you ever lay a finger on anyoneー”

“Do you think I’d just listen to you threaten me? Pretty…” Jungkook clicks his tongue in displeasure. “You are already here, aren’t you? You are already mine. You might not want to acknowledge it yet but you. Are. mine. And I know you’ll come to admit it sooner or later andー” He taps the pocket where he just put his phone. “Meanwhile, we can play it easy or hard.”

“But why- why Jimin? He never did anything wrong to you.” You hastily take a step forward. To be honest, you have no idea of what this man is capable of doing. Not all of it at least. He kidnapped you, yes. He’s sick in the head, yes. But that might not be all he has. He can be even more ruthless. He can be capable of murder even. You need to make sure that isn’t the case. 

“But he did.” Jungkook smirks. “He fucking did. If I have to make him suffer, I have all the reasons to do so. Just because I haven’t done anything, that doesn’t mean I can’t, baby. The only reason why I haven’t done anything to anyone, yet,” He brings a hand up. Grabs a loose strand of your hair between his fingers. Plays with it. “is because you are too precious to me. I mean it when I said I don’t want to hurt you, Pretty. But don’t test my patience too much.” His eyes go from that stiffness to softer like a flicker of a switch. So does his daunting smirk. Instead, he smiles at you gently again as he pushes that strand of hair behind your ear. Gently. His fingers grazing over your ear and face ever so lightly. Then he drags those fingers over the side of your neck. And a shiver runs down your spine electrocuting your whole body. You tremble visibly, your breath tangling in your throat. 

It’s fear, right? It’s just fear. 

“Now, you're a big girl. It’s ridiculous that I have to threaten to take away your toys to make you eat.” Jungkook takes his hand back. Just as his touch disappears you feel insanely cold. Hollow. A longing stirs your insides. 

It’s just the fear. You’re awfully scared of him. That’s it. 

He just threatened you with your friends’ life after all. You don’t know what Jimin ever did to Jungkook. Jungkook sure does hate Hoseok because he is your ex. Then you know Jungkook hates him because he hurt you as well. Just like he hates Daebi despite her role in getting you in his hold. Then maybe… Could it be the same reason he hates Jimin? Can it be that Jimin knew too. He knew about Daebi and Hoseok. What if he knew about your kidnapping as well? What about Nina? Did they all know about what was going to happen to you and turn a blind eye?

You feel your heart clenches painfully at the thought. There’s a huge chance that it might be the case. Yet still, you don’t think any of their misery would bring you any satisfaction. No. Revenge is a strange word for you. All you want is a chance for a confrontation, which you know you might not have. Unless you work for it, of course. And after everything, you want all of them to be in a position where you can talk to them. So, you fear Jungkook without a doubt. Yes. This is all about that. 

“I’m ordering Samgyeopsal.” Jungkook informs you, voice sharp. 

You just nod. 

…………………..

The midnight dinner had passed in utter silence where you watched a crappy late-night reality show. It was a very uncomfortable hour where you sat idly next to Jungkook, your mind screaming with  unasked questions. You wanted to know. Wanted to ask. How did he know Jimin? Was it just like you thought? How did he know Daebi? When did they meet? Lots and lots of things. In the end, however, you asked nothing. Simply because you feared the answers. And after that hour, you decided it was enough. That it was time to crawl inside your room back again.

See now, while you spent an entire day starving yourself, you at least hoped to come up with a plan. A plan that is meticulous enough to free you from this shithole. But you managed nothing close to that. All you did was cry, being depressed, then anxious. Now, just as you close the door behind you and stand in the darkness, you know you’re about to do the same thing all over again. This time, however, you feel it ten times harder. New suspicions about your other friends’ participation in your misery has made it worse. 

The lonely feeling freezes you to your marrow. The pain splits your heart in two. The restless feeling makes it hard for you to breathe. It all hits you like a freight train.

Oh, you shouldn’t have been this quick to return here. Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt an extra hour watching that crap show. 

Fuck, it’s hard.

You actually can’t breathe. 

You turn around to stare at the closed door. The room is in pitch darkness since you’ve not bothered to switch on the lights and the curtains are drawn. Still you can see the outlines of the closed barrier that isolates you in this room. You close your eyes for a second, letting the pain engulf you whole again. 

Memories. 

Memories of shared laughter and tears. 

Moments spent together. 

Drunken nights and awful jokes. 

Friends. Lovers. Betrayal!

A tangled sob leaves your throat. You reopen your eyes, allowing tears to roll down your cheeks. The cruel reality of how alone and helpless you are once again registering in your mind. If what you think was true, if Jimin and Nina knew this from the beginning, then you’ve been alone all your life. No one has been on your side. Ever. You are all you have. No one has ever cared or will care about you. You bet that they’ve already forgotten about you. They probably have. You will never have someone to wipe down your tears when you cry. Offer you a shoulder to rest your head when you’re tired. You have no one. No one… 

Except….

You don’t even wait a second to think what you’re doing or to consider the consequences. Simply can’t afford one more minute of this loneliness. Of this pain. You yank open the door and run out. Tears streaming down without a break. Heart violently pounding against your ribcage. Your hurried footsteps muffled against the marble floor. 

No one has been on your side ever. You have no one to turn to. Except this one man, who’ll hold you tight when you cry. And all you want is that. Someone to tell you that it’s going to be okay. That nothing was your fault and they are there for you. You don’t care for the fact that the man you’re running into is another one who caused your demise. It’s fine. You just need comfort. A bandage to cover your wound. It’s fine that it’s not a permanent solution and you’ll regret ever doing this in the morning. You’ll worry about that later. For now, you need someone to be on your side. 

So, you don’t stop until you barge into the living room again. You don’t stop until you’re met with the man you were looking for. Just about to leave the room himself. You only give him time to just turn around when you stand in front of him. Jungkook’s innocent- looking, doe eyes, which don’t suit a person like him, go wide at your unexpected sight. You disregard his surprise. Instead you wipe your tears away with both your palms. Drop your hands down. You have no idea what you wanted from him or from just barging in here. 

“I- just- ca-can you- uh-” Hence your pathetic stuttering. Your hands clenched around your cozy shorts to gain a strength that you didn’t know you needed. But for your luck or not, you don’t have to elaborate any further. Jungkook’s eyes soften as you watch. A kind of hurt flashing across them before he closes the distance between you in a flash. And you find yourself crushed between his strong arms. One arm wraps around your waist, the other cradles the back of your head.

“Of course I will, Pretty. Of course I will…”

…………………

Whatever you expected when you ran to Jungkook, it certainly wasn’t this. Sharing the bed? Maybe. You fell asleep on his lap last night for the sake of fuck. Maybe you wanted to have someone to lie next to you, filling the empty side of the bed. But this isn’t just sharing a bed. The way one of his arms is curled under your head isn’t just sharing a bed. The way his other hand is thrown across your waist and holding your hand isn’t just sharing a bed. Nor is the firm press of your back against his broad chest or the tingling sensation of his breath against your neck. 

But the problematic part of this situation isn’t just how he’s holding you close. The problem is that you're not completely opposed to it. You’re enjoying it to be honest. You blame it on the emptiness inside you. On the craving for a caring presence. Not an AI this time but a real person because the way Jungkook’s heart is beating is real. How his chest is heaving when he breathes is real. How his thumb is gently rubbing your palm is real. That’s the reason for you to like this. 

Then why does your heart pound in your poor ribcage? 

Why does your breath hitch with every rub of his thumb against your palm?

Why does your whole arm feel numb—in a good way? 

Above everything else, why do you want him to keep doing it? No. That’s not the case after all. You want him to just do something more. 

You close your eyes for the hundredth time, hoping you would actually be able to fall asleep this time. To act like your stomach isn’t doing weird turns. You fail. Miserably so. All you manage is a blink before you reopen your eyes when Jungkook pushes you back more into his body. His thumb keeps rubbing your palm. 

It feels good. So damn good that even a moan nearly slips through your lips. You have to bite your bottom lip so hard not to let that happen. You can’t risk it now. Can’t let him know that he’s affecting you. Because you don’t want to get affected. No. You can’t. You are not feeling a fire travelling across your veins. Starting from the spot where he’s touching you. He’s touching your palm for God’s sake and you’re doing your best not to moan? 

What is fucking wrong with you? 

Jungkook sighs dreamily behind you, pressing his body more and more into you. He changes the pattern he is rubbing your palm. Instead of circles, he starts to rub back and forth, making you squeeze your thighs desperately. 

No. No. No….

This can’t be happening. You are most definitely not getting wet. Not because of this psychopath. Not because of a simple touch. 

“Why aren’t you sleeping, Pretty?” Jungkook suddenly questions. His voice is raspy and thick. Even his voice sends a tingle between your legs. 

What the actual fuck?

“Not sleepy.” You answer him with your own hushed voice. Or is it hoarse too? Thick? 

“Why not? It’s late.” Jungkook raises his head a bit. As if he wants a look at your face. His thumb is still playing with your palm. “This doesn’t help?” He questions as he lifts your hand up. “I’m trying to help you relax.” Explains though you don’t ask. Well, you don’t know ‘relax’ is the right word to use in this context. Jungkook doesn’t let you question it. He lifts your hand up and up then back, behind you and over your shoulder. “Gentle touches help people relax, you know,” He keeps explaining while you wait with bated breath. Clueless but also excited about what he is doing. Then you feel the cold touch of his nose nudging against your palm. “Doesn’t it work for you?” Gently questions. That’s all he does before his nose replaces his lips. He kisses your palm softly. Hesitantly. Carefully. As if you’d break if he presses a little hard. 

He waits for a minute while keeping his lips on your palm. Then when he gets no reluctance from your frozen body, he does it again. Another kiss follows. Once then twice. Three times and four times. Slowly. Sensually. His lips brush over your palm like a feather. And you shiver. Eyes fluttering close at the heavenly feeling. 

“Huh, Pretty? It doesn’t help?” Jungkook repeats his earlier question in between his soft kisses. You don’t know how to answer that. So you keep quiet, letting Jungkook kiss your hand. Over and over. And with every kiss it turns a bit tender. His lips linger on your palm a little more than before. As if he’s losing his mind and getting caught in the moment. As if he doesn’t know what he’s doing. “Damn it! Why’s your hands so soft?” A soft groan accompanies his words. Words that go straight to your lower belly, igniting a fire there. 

And you fail to keep your reactions neutral. A heavy, shaky sigh escapes you even without your knowledge. Jungkook takes that as a good sign. His kisses grow more deliberate.But what truly breaks you is when you feel the tip of his tongue grazing over your hand. Gently and lightly. Circling across your skin, just like how he did with his thumb. 

“Jungkook…” You mumble which comes out as a desperate moan. You swear that you don’t intend to do that. Jungkook, however, groans. Applies more pressure into his action. His other hand curls even more under your neck, dragging you insanely closer to him. Practically starts to make out with your palm, shifting between open mouthed kisses and licks. You feel your whole body go weak. Blood pumping across your veins extra fast. “Y-you- you can’t.” You weakly whimper once again, half turning toward him despite your words. 

“Yeah?” Jungkook relents. Pushes your hand away from his mouth. You find it amazing how he’s breathless. Cold air replaces the warmth where his tongue had just been, making you already miss the warmth, the tingling sensation. “Then ask me to stop.” He pants. Gives you time to do as he says. 

And isn’t that easy? Just ask him to stop. You know that he’d listen. 

Ask him to stop. 

All you do is whimper. 

You can’t let this happen. 

You press your palm into his mouth. 

Fuck, you need to stop. 

“Oh, Jungkook….” You finally moan aloud at the same time he kisses your palm again. 

“You don’t want me to stop, Pretty?” Jungkook shifts his attention from your palm to your fingers. Wraps his lips around your thumb and starts suckling gently, almost making you cry. “Answer me, baby. You don’t want me to stop? Want me to keep going?” Even during your filthiest sex calls, Jungkook’s voice hadn’t sounded this thick with lust. It gets your head spinning. Rest of the world and everything else disappears from your mind. 

You don’t know how you responded to him. If you said yes or just nodded. But in the next moment you find your back pressed against his chest once again. This time, however, instead of just keeping you close, Jungkook is rocking his hips against your plump ass. You can unmistakably feel the hardness that is being ground against your flesh, creating an insatiable desire inside you. 

All you can manage to do is whimper. Stay still and let him grind against you. His cock rubbing against your ass firmly with every thrust of his hips. He stopped playing with your hands sometime ago, for much of your dismay. Not that you can complain about the change, however. This is better. Even though you know it shouldn’t feel great, you’re slowly slipping into a blissful numbness. 

You would blame this on not having any actions in your life lately. True that with Jungkook- when you thought he was a mere AI- you brought yourself into mind shattering orgasms more than one time. That somehow doesn’t match the sensation you’re feeling now. That fire was nowhere near the wildfire rapidly spreading through your nerves right now. 

Well, if Jungkook managed to make you cum hard just by his voice, why would you be surprised of him being able to get you drooling just with his cock grazing over your ass. 

Of course, he knows what he’s doing. One hand splayed across your waist to keep you in place. Face hidden in your neck. Lips occasionally touching your skin. His soft grunts a beautiful melody in your ear. His hard cock a sin in your body.

This is wrong.

But you need more.

Otherwise you’ll explode from the pressure inside your tummy. You’ll die from neediness. It’s crazy how desperately your pussy has been clenching over nothing. Embarrassing how much you’ve soaked your panties. 

“Jungkook…” You moan out his name once again. Jungkook doesn’t stop his firm grinding as he answers you.

“Yes, pretty?” He plants a kiss under your ear. “What is it?” Asks through clenched teeth.

You don’t know how to ask him what you want. It’s humiliating. You swore you hate him, didn’t you? You swore you will never be his. Technically, this is nothing like that. Just because you’re horny, it doesn’t mean you’ve entered a truce with this guy. Still you feel like crawling into a little hole at the prospect of being this needy for him. Being at the peak of begging for more. 

“What do you want, baby?” Jungkook questions again. You don’t answer. Still not knowing how to phrase your words. Jungkook doesn’t have much patience, though. “Nothing?” He slows down his movements, making you nearly panic. You don’t want him to stop. No. “If you don’t ask, I can’t give it to you.” He stops rocking his hips against you altogether. “Do you want to go to sleep—”

“No!” This time you actually panic, turning your head around to look at him at light speed. “No, no, please..” Words leave your mouth before you can process it. Jungkook raises head again to take a proper look at you. 

“No?” He arches a brow. You freeze, suddenly realizing that you had said that. But it’s out anyway and you really don’t want him to stop. It’s too late for that now. “Then what do you need, pretty? Use your words, huh?” As if to give you what you’d miss, he presses his hardness a little more into your ass. Or it is to show you how hard he is. Either way it forces the words out of your mouth that he, oh so badly needs. 

“Y-you..” You manage breathlessly. 

“Me?” Jungkook tilts his head. “You have me here, don’t you, pretty?” You nearly cry in frustration. 

Why would he want to make you say it aloud?

“W-want you to to-touch me.” You stutter around again, growing impatient and more needy with every passing second. It’s funny how the day has turned into this. Haven’t you hated him with a passion until now? Well, you still hate him. Maybe even more because he has this much influence on you. To make you say things that you don’t want to say that easily. Of course, you hate him. But that hate drowns in a lake of desire. Deeper and deeper. Disappears somewhere in the murky depths as soon as Jungkook suddenly grabs one of your boobs, making you gasp aloud. 

“Yeah? Like this?” He makes sure with his hand already starting to mold the soft flesh beneath his palms. You shudder, eyes fluttering close. You answer him in a gentle hum and for your pleasure Jungkook takes that as enough an answer. Just for a minute, however. Then in the next, he is questioning you again. “Is that all you need baby? Just this? Want me to touch your tits?” He begins his slow grinding back, massaging your breast with just the right pressure. 

You’re almost drooling. Just with this. His hands and his cock grazing over your body through all the clothing. Pathetic. But you can’t care. Too horny for your own good. You would hate yourself at the way you shake your head. Not Jungkook though. The guy loves it judging by the way he kisses your cheek with appreciation.

“No? You need more? What do you need, pretty?” 

You’re pushing back on his cock, not knowing exactly what’s happening. It sure feels like a dream when this time you open your mouth without much persuasion.

“To-touch me pro-properly… please… god, Jungkook…” You complete the rest of your sentence with pulling your t-shirt up. Initiating what you want. 

And Jungkook laughs. Fucking laughs!

Rich sound of his laughter vibrates across your body. It’s sinister. Cruel. Taunting. He’s letting you know how pathetic you’re being and how it amuses him. You should feel embarrassed. Ashamed. And you do. Of course, you do. Your face reddened at the sound. A strong urge to hide your face somewhere getting to you. But with shame, you get that familiar stirring on your lower stomach. 

Desire. Burn. 

Burn for Jeon Jungkook. 

Jungkook knows how to play you. He had played you even before he got to lay a single finger on you. He played you like you were a guitar. And now he’s slowly dragging you into that same headspace. 

Making you his little play thing. 

Someone who’s completely lost their senses.

“Pathetic, princess. So fucking pathetic. You have no shame!” Jungkook grunts before giving into what you asked him to do. His hand snakes under your t-shirt, finding your bare breasts. “See? Have no shame at all. You came to bed with me, without wearing a bra?” Mocks. His voice is contemptuous. He instantly starts to mould, his thumb flicking over your nippels occasionally. Pays equal attention to both of your tits. Pinches your perky pebbles. “Such a slut!”

In your defense, you didn’t expect this to happen. You expected to go to sleep alone. It’s not fair to assume that. But who would care? Certainly not you because every demeaning word of him is making your body shudder. Your pussy aches. Your empty hole clenches around nothing. And all you want is that emptiness to go. Want that to change. Desperately want to be filled. Especially, since Jungkook is back to grinding. 

“Oh, god… Oh, fuck!” You moan aloud, throwing all the remaining sanity and care into the wind. 

“Yeah? Does this feel good, pretty?”

You nod violently. 

“How good? Are you dripping already? Are you making a mess for me?” 

You nod again, followed by another needy moan. Jungkook curses before he stops playing with your tits. You try to protest which just dies in your throat when he drags his hand down through your stomach. Down and down, and stops just below your waistband. 

You wait patiently with a bated breath. Completely still despite your heavy breathing. It feels like your skin is burning where his fingers are drawing lewd patterns. But he doesn’t take it further. No matter how long you wait, the next step doesn’t come. Not even when you start to whimper. So, you decide you have no other option but to become even lower. 

“Oh, please… Jungkook…” You beg, all the while spreading your legs as much as you can. 

“Holy fuck!... You want me to touch you? Want me to touch your filthy cunt?” Jungkook squeezes you in his hold, finally starting to lose it. 

“Yes, p-pl-please, yes. Touch me.”

“Touch you where?”

“M-my… fuck.. Jungkook please…” You trail off, burning with shame. How degrading it is to say that. You feel like words are turning into dust in your mouth. Jungkook, though, isn't letting you off the hook that easily. 

“Touch you where you filthy whore?” He barks, practically crushing you into his body. You inhale a sharp breath in a fruitless attempt to find the courage. Despite everything, despite the shame, you want him to touch you. 

“M-my c-cunt…” You manage to push the bitter words out of your mouth, pleasing Jungkook immensely that he doesn’t even waste a second. His hands go inside your cozy shorts within a beat of a heart. He cups your pussy without further ado. Then his middle finger is sliding along your slit, poking at your entrance and gathering up the wetness. It all happens so fast. The next thing you know is he’s relentlessly rubbing your clit. Occasionally shifts between slightly pressing at your hole. His hard cock still scouring against your ass. And you’re dangerously nearing that peak. Every flick against your clit makes your head spin. 

Only if Jungkook allows it, though. He doesn’t. Each time you start to tense he slows down. Changes his rhythm. Then stops altogether, just to start the same thing all over again. Gets you literally drooling. Leaving only him and pleasure in your mind. Nothing else. Absolutely nothing that you don’t even realize when you start to cry for his cock. 

“Please, please, please…”

“God damn it, pretty.. You need my cock?”

“Yes, yes, yes… Want you… please…”

“But I thought you didn’t want me to even touch you?”

“Bu-but I wa-want you to… n-now.”

Another laugh. “Do you even know how miserable you sound?” Jungkook pinches your clit, making your thighs shake. “But it’s okay baby, you’re being such a good girl for me. Maybe, you deserve my cock.” He rasps in your ear. You almost fall into a false allusion that he’s finally going to give it to you when he pushes the next words out. “But I’m sure, you said you hate me. You said you never will be mine. You fucking flinched away when I was just trying to touch your hand. Now you want my cock?” Flickering of his finger over your clit comes to an abrupt stop. Before you can even comprehend it, he pulls his hand out of your pants. “I don’t think you truly want it.”

It’s ridiculous the way you panicked. Undignified, how you grab his hand, not letting him take it away. 

“No, no, please, no, Jungkook. I want you.. I promise.. I really need you.” Mortifying, when you open your mouth. 

“You need me? Yeah?” Jungkook leans into you again, closing the short distance he created. Mumbles in your ear. “Then prove it, princess. Beg!” 

This time it doesn’t take much more persuading or convincing for you to actually do it. Words start to flow out of your mouth like a broken damn. Even out of your control. Yet, no matter how much you plead and beg, all he gives you is more teasing. His hand back inside your pants and melting your brain and soaking your thighs. And just as he edges you for what must be the hundredth time you snap, falling into the lowest you can go. 

“Oh, god pl-please.. Something… Gi-give me something Kook. At least the tip. I need just so-something…” 

And with that you break Jungkook as well. 

“Holy fuck! You little slut!” He curses aloud. But he finally relents. You don’t even get to comprehend what’s happening before he is yanking your pants down and doing the same to his as well. All you can do is inhale a shaky breath before you feel the tip of his hardened cock at your sloppy entrance. 

Finally! Fucking finally!

You almost sigh in relief when he pushes inside you. Slowly. Agonizingly so. An inch by pleasurable inch he stretches your entrance. You moan lowly at the pleasure, waiting for him to keep going and bury himself deep inside you. Only for that to never come. He stops yet again. You turn your head around, catching his face properly for the first time this night. And the sight that treats you is nothing less than you expected. 

Divine. 

Godly. 

Sin. 

His entire face is flushed and eyes all pupils. Brows pulled together and eyes closed shut. Bottom lip trapped between his teeth. 

He is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. Jeon Jungkook is impractical. Unreal. Maybe he is an illusion. Just as the thought crosses your head he opens his eyes, catching your gaze. And you clench around his tip tightly, completely unconsciously, eliciting a beautiful moan from his throat. He rewards you with a shallow thrust. Then another. Just with only his tip inside you and driving you crazy. You question him with your confused expression. Luckily for you he reads it. 

“Why baby? You asked just for the tip… I’m only giving you what you asked for.” He smirks through his haze. 

A whimper of frustration tangles in your throat. Yet you clench around him even harder. Every demeaning word from him is fueling your fire. That’s exactly what makes you clutch onto his hand tightly before pushing back on his half sheathed cock inside you. Changing the fact from half sheathed to fully sheathed. He slides inside you swiftly. Just one push and he’s safely buried inside you, knocking the wind out of your lungs. 

You both stilled, reveling in the feeling. Just for a moment, however. Next moment, Jungkook is gripping your face, roughly, fingers digging into your cheeks painfully. He turns your face around and leans forward until the tips of your noses touch. 

“You need to learn how to listen and be fucking patient, baby. You don’t want to be a good girl? You want to act like a needy slut? Can’t wait to get this pussy ruined?” He presses a barely there, feathery kiss to your lips. Stark contrasts the way he’s touching you and his filthy words. “Okay then, I’ll give that to you. I’ll fuck you until you beg me to stop.” He drawls. That’s the only warning you get before he drags his hips back and rams into you, making you scream his name. He does it again, again, and again. Lets your face go so he can hold your leg up. And as if you’ve not humiliated and embarrassed yourself enough, all it takes is just a few hard thrusts for your prolonged orgasm to crash over you. 

“God, fuck yes, sult! Ah fuck, squeeze my cock…” Jungkook hides his face in your neck, inhaling your scent , getting drunk on you. “Fuck, pretty you feel even better than I imagined.” Growls as his hips keep thrusting forward without a mercy. Not even slowing down to let you catch your lost breath. “You have—” He gasps in between his harsh thrusts. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to have you, pretty…” His teeth sink into the sensitive skin of your neck, arousing you more and more. “I dreamt of this fucking day… you have no fucking idea how much this means to me…” He drags his hand across your body, from your breasts to your stomach. “God damn it, princess…. You know what? I need more… c’mon, on your back—” He withdraws from you fast, making you flinch at the sensitivity. “And I need you naked.” 

He doesn’t give you much time to comply with his commands. As soon as he pulls his cock out, he’s pushing you into your back. Even before you can register the movement your remaining clothes are practically ripped away from your body, his clothes following closely.

See now, Jungkook has ridden you into your lowest level already. Has made you say things you wouldn't have said in any other occasions. Had made you beg and plead. But now, as you are laid beneath him, looking at him with your glossy eyes, squirming and impatient, legs already spread without anybody forcing you to do so, it feels worse. It’s one thing if he’s forcing this on you. Leaving you without any options. But to be the one who’s asking for it. 

It makes your stomach churn. But the case is, even that doesn’t stop you from humping the air waiting for him to get back inside you. 

What’s wrong with you!

It’s all Jungkook’s fault. 

You hate him. You hate everything about him. You swear you do. Still, you exhale softly as your hands move across his chiseled abs and chest the moment he gets rid of his t-shirt. Still, you curl your hands around his neck and press your lips to his, turning it into a messy kiss of tongue and saliva without an ounce of hesitance. Still, you keep him as close to you as possible when he pushes inside you again with a powerful, breathtaking thrust. Still, you beg him for more when he starts picking up his pace again. 

“H-harder please…”

“More Jungkook…”

“Please don’t stop… keep going…” 

You keep screaming. 

“I won’t baby. I’ll not fucking stop. Take this cock, yeah? Like that… yes… fuck!” 

He keeps promising. 

And he keeps his promise. He doesn’t stop. He fucks orgrasm out of orgasm from you. 

He makes love to you while hovering over your shaking figure, kissing and biting your lips, mumbling sweet nothings in your ear. 

He fucks you while holding your writsts above your head and scattering purple marks across your chest and neck. 

He worships you by kissing every inch of skin he can reach. 

So does he pound you with your legs pushed over his shoulders. 

You have no idea how much time has passed or how many times you actually came. Only thing you’re aware of is the pleasure and Jungkook as now he’s slams into you from behind. Your head pressed into the pillow. He’s clutching both of your hands behind you, taking extra leverage. And all you can do is drool all over you and bite onto the soft pillow. You’re getting tired now. But despite all that, you want Jungkook to cum as well. 

That shouldn’t be your concern at all. At least you can turn this whole thing about you. You are receiving pleasure. You are using him. Not the other way around. That’s not what’s happening, however. You’re battling your sensitivity, and exhaustion because you want him to cum. Judging by the way his thrusts are turning sloppy and his ragged breaths you know that’s about to happen. Even the thought is making your tummy clench. Despite how wearried out you are, you feel like about to reach another orgasm, just at the thought. 

Then just as the thought passes, Jungkook’s voice breaks your stupor. 

“Gonna cum, pretty. Gonna cum inside you, yeah? Fucking make you mine…”

You think you just die at the spot. It’s not possible to feel more aroused. But you do. Even a cry leaves your parched throat. 

“Please… yes…” You try in vain to turn your head and look at his divine face but he steals your moment when his hand leaves yours just to grab your hair. You let out a surprised squeal when you’re being yanked back. Your back collides with his chest. His hand immediately snakes around your throat. Squeezes. Not enough to hurt you but enough to cut your air flow.

“You want that, pretty? Want me to cum inside you?” Jungkook growls, his thrusts turning sloppy and sloppier. 

You nod, feeling your head getting dizzy. It’s his hold on your neck that's keeping you upright. Your legs are buckling under your weight. 

“Say it aloud, princess. Say you want me to cum inside you. Fucking beg for my cum.” Jungkook presses his fingers around your throat a little more, like an unspoken threat. 

“P-please c-cum inside me… Pl-please…”

“Again.”

“Oh god, please… pl-please… fill me up, Jungkook. W-ant your cum. I need your cum…” You choke out, struggling to breathe. 

“Again, whore. Beg like you really want it. That’s notー” A powerful, harsh thrust. And his grip tightens a little more. “Enough.”

“Please… Jungkook… Want to be so full of your cum. I- Iー” Fortunately for you, those next words do the trick. Just as the words leave your mouth Jungkook stills, his cock twitching inside you. You feel the warmth engulf your insides. Thick ropes of cum painting your walls and putting you into a delirious state. His grip on your throat loosens. 

You stay that way, pressed into each other for another long second before Jungkook lowers both of you into the mattress. A deep sigh of satisfaction which lets out by you mixes into the heavy breathing of Jungkook. 

You feel light. As if you’ve put all your weight down. You feel like there’s nothing wrong in your life. Even the pain has dissipated somewhere. And you close your eyes into a pure bliss of silence. No pressure, no pain, no problem there to bother you anymore. 

……………………………

You can’t believe you did that!

You scrub your chest hard. 

How could you? 

You scrub your stomach even harder.

How did you do that?

You feel sick. Nauseous. 

It was with an unpleasantly twisting stomach that you ran into the bathroom a few minutes ago. Just after you woke up, next to Jungkook- the very same man who dragged you across hell. Then to make matters worse, you were tangled up with himー comfortably. 

Comfortably!

And naked!

You sprang out of bed, even not caring for the fact that you might wake Jungkook up. Nor did you wait to see if that was the case. You’ve wanted to throw up. You’ve felt like that but no matter how long you’ve waited kneeling in front of the toilet, nothing came out. So, you’ve opted for a shower. Which is what you’re doing now. 

Tears uncontrollably flooding through your eyes. Muffled sobs escaping past your lips. Steaming hot water cascading across your body. 

You have no idea how long it’s been since you entered the shower box. Maybe it’s just a few minutes or maybe it’s been hours. And you’ve been scrubbing your body like crazy ever sinceー to no avail. It doesn’t matter how hard and long you rub your skin, you feel like it’s not going away. The imprints of his calloused hands. Imprints of his soft lips and the coldness of that damn lip ring. The wetness of his hot tongue and the tingle of his breath. Then the fullness you’ve felt when he was inside you. 

You feel like he's still inside you. You can still feel the harsh thrusts. Can feel his skin slapping against yours. 

How did you let yourself do that? 

Now, you can’t get rid of him. 

You put extra pressure on your skin, scrubbing even harder. You lather on more and more shower gel, then go back to scrub. At this rate, you might end up actually hurting yourself, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You need him gone. 

You bring your hand down between your thighs, starting to scrub your inner thighs. This is the part you’ve paid the most attention to. You woke up with his cum dried on your thighs. Another, louder sob erupts as you try to get rid of the unseen evidence of the previous night. You wish you could wash your memory and soul as well. Wipe off everything. You want the previous night to be一

The sound of the bathroom door banging against the wall makes you jump on your spot. Yet you don’t get to let out much of a reaction before Jungkook barges inside the shower box. He wastes no time as he roughly snatches the scrubbing towel you’ve been using to scrub your body. You flinch and stumble a step back as Jungkook throws the towel away, blindly. 

“Fucking stop that!” He yells as he closes the distance between you, forcing you to take a few more shaky yet hurried steps back and cover your head with both your hands. You don’t even care for the fact that you’re stark naked. In all your time with him, you’ve never heard him raise his voice like this. “Fucking stop you little…” This time he grits through his clenched teeth. You cower behind your hands even more, which Jungkook finds to be more irritating. He yanks your hands away. Holds them apart and gives you a rough shake. “Don’t be a fucking bitch, (___).” He pulls you forward. 

All you manage is a tremble and a whimper. 

You’ve seen Jungkook mad. Or not. You’ve thought you’ve seen him mad. Him going berserk over the phone was nothing similar to this. Him raising his voice across a phone was nothing like seeing his face right now. He looks like a beast, almost inhuman. All of his beautiful features masked with pure fury. Eyes wild and bloodshot, jaw slack. A vein throbs at his temple. 

Jungkook looks crazy. 

Jungkook looks capable of murdering. 

Jungkook, the man who treated you oh so softly despite being a monster, looks like he’s about to snap you in half. 

“You said you wanted it” He shakes you again, this time even harder, pulling out more and more whimpers and cries. You find yourself even incapable of replying to him. Your heart pounding in your throat. Your vision dims.

Maybe this is how you’ll die. He’ll strangle you to the death. 

“You asked me to touch you, (___).” Jungkook’s voice lowered an octave this time. “You asked me to fuck you. You said you wanted it. D-don’t一” His voice cracks a bit and you think a flash of hurt breaks the fury in his eyes. And something inside you turns. Blinding fear subsides a little. He heaves a heavy sigh before speaking again. “Don’t act like I forced that on you.” He chokes out. The feeling inside you intensifies. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your head throbs with the rhythm. You gather courage to peer into his eyes. That beast is there but you see the pain. “Don’t be aー” He starts again. 

You don’t know what’s gotten into you. Maybe it’s fear. You wanted to distract him. Partially. You absolutely do not wish to die here. But then there was a guilt. Regret. A hurt that stirs your insides. Whatever the reason could be, you surprise yourself when you lunge forward, silencing Jungkook’s words when you press your lips to him. Initially, it’s just a press of the lips where you both do nothing, but then he pushes you back at the same time he starts kissing you desperately, madly, furiously. You return it to the best. 

Your back hits the cold wall behind you. Jungkook kisses you with the same fervor for a few more intense minutes before he pulls away. That’s only when you realize that the shower is still running. That Jungkook is half naked as well and is only wearing his boxers. That he’s getting drenched.

You peer at his face for a moment. The way the fury is still there but now laced with lust. You watch the way the droplets slid over his face. Over his chiseled cheekbones. Over his pink lips and the damn lip ring. A shudder ripple through you before you capture his bottom lip between your teeth, bite gently, soon falling into another kiss. Jungkook moans in appreciation. His hands leave yours so he can skim across your curves instead. Your back, waist, ass, stops under your thighs. Then in one swift moment he picks you up from the floor. You wrap your legs around his waist on instincts. 

Jungkook is the one who pulls away again. This time he does it with a harsh bite on your lower lip. Harsh enough that you mewl in pain before he sucks on the spot and soothes the sting. He lets your lip go before resting his forehead against you. Panting. 

“You wanted to get rid of me?” He questions, with that dangerous tilt in his voice, sharing one breath with you. You don’t answer him. Just try to fill your lungs with enough oxygen. “You wanted to escape me?” He repeats to which he doesn’t get an answer again. He presses another kiss to your lips, then drags those kisses toward your jaw. From there to your neck. Biting and sucking gently. Adding more marks into your already bruised skin. Mumbles his next words into your throat. “Guess what baby? You’ll never escape me.” With that he raises his face back to peer into your eyes. “I’ll fucking taint your memmories with me,” he growls. “I’ll fucking live inside your head, I’ll fucking burn myself into you. You. Are. Never. Going to escape me.” 

You tremble once again. Partially from a fire inside your stomach but partially from an unexplainable fear. Jungkook holds you with one arm for a bit as he shuffles with his boxers, pushing them down. Even the prospect makes your breath hitch and pussy clench. He holds you in his hold securely. “You are mine, baby.” He plunges inside you, ripping out a cry from you at the unexpectedness of his movements. Luckily you are already wet enough that he slides in easily. He stops once he’s buried to the hilt inside you. “You’ll be mine.” Gives you an experimental thrust. Your head falls back, hitting the tile and you clench around him violently. “And don’t try to deny that because trust me, princess, I’m gonna make you mine one way or another. I’ll rip your heart out of you and keep it inside a box if that’s what it takes. Soー” A harsh thrust interrupts his threat. “It’s time you should accept that you’re meant to be mine, pretty.” He picks up his speed and starts pounding into you. Calling you his over and over again. 

“Mine. Mine. Mine…”

………………………..

Jungkook never wanted to do something that you wouldn’t like. Never wanted to scare you. Even if he had, unintentionally, a few times. But the thing is, you’re not entirely blameless. You are a little stubborn witch in disguise. A brat. How hard it has been for him to keep you at bay. 

Jungkook found himself questioning often, why you were so reluctant to accept him. Be his. Understand that you two were always meant to be together. That you’ve always been tied to him with a red string. But then he believed you would come to accept that one day. He knew you would actually return his feelings. Give him what he’s been craving so badly for years. 

Years!

It has taken more time than he had expected, however. From the day he got a hold of you again through his meticulous plan to the day he finally brought you into this place that  was supposed to be your safe haven. It has taken longer to make you see things even if it’s not fully yet. 

But god, the trouble he had to go through!

First, it was making sure you wouldn’t do something that’s stupid and hurt yourself. Then there was the problem of controlling himself. It was as if holding his breath forever. You were a walking, talking ball of temptation. Jungkook had the hardest time having you around, in your cute shorts and comfy t-shirts which he picked out for you. You were the most adorable yet the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He’s been watching you from afar for so long. Can anyone blame him for nearly losing it when he finally had you in a close proximity. Close enough he could touch you, hold you, and hear you. 

The temptation was like a demon on his shoulder. He found himself in moments where he was a hair’s breadth away from kissing you until you were breathless. Bending you over and fucking the senses into you. But, thanks to all the high spirits above, he managed to control the urges. Because, in the end, Jungkook never wanted to do something that you didn’t want him to. 

Not because it was hard. It was easy in fact. But Jungkook always wanted you to want him. You never wanted him. Not back in your college years. Not even when you were chatting with him. True, you texted him every and each day but you truly didn’t know who he was now, did you? 

Then, suddenly all of his hard work paid off that way. 

Suddenly, you were seeking him. You were asking for him. You were willingly being with him. 

Just like now. 

It’s been a few days since your first night. Since Jungkook finally bent your stubborn will enough to see him. See his love. Yet still, Jungkook can’t help but gasp quietly in surprise when you straddle his lap, emerging out of nowhere. He can’t help but feel like pinching him to make sure he isn’t dreaming. 

You get comfortable in his lap. He is sitting on his gaming chair, not particularly playing games but he’s stressing over this one client. Some people are just morons who can’t understand simple things. Jungkook had leaked a very important piece of information to the public on this said client's request. It was the deal they made and the fucker should not be contacting Jungkook again. But here he is, asking for another deal. This time to revise what he already did. See now, Jungkook might be very good at his job. Sneaking into any database and leaking anything for the right amount of money. The thing is, however, he isn’t God and therefore the power of undoing something isn’t on his hand. Life, unfortunately, has no control plus z. His idiot of a client isn’t understanding that. 

And Jungkook was at the verge of finding the man and choking him to death himself when you appeared, now hiding your face in his neck. You plant a soft kiss on his neck making him shudder. A moan almost slips past his lips. He aligns his neck to give you more access. You haven’t said much since you straddled his lap, your legs placed either side of him. You pick up on his cue and strat peppering soft kisses over and over. Jungkook unconsciously wraps an arm around your body. 

“What are you doing, baby?” He questions as you move toward his throat. 

“You seemed tense.” You answer him, softly. 

Fuck! 

Jungkook finds this to be a huge victory. Despite all the time he had you lying beneath him and moaning his name, you mostly didn’t talk with him. And to think you care about him.

Did he die?

Is this heaven?

“Yeah? And you want to help me.” He starts rubbing your back soothingly. You nod into his throat. “Fuck!” Jungkook curses at the sensation of your lips on him and your admission. “God, pretty, you gonna kill me,” he gives a gentle smack on your perfect ass, marveling at the way you whimper in return. “What do you want to do, baby? How are you gonna help me?” 

You pull away from worshipping his neck at his words, facing him and peering at his eyes with your glinting eyes. A little bit hooded and glossy. You exhale a shaky breath. “I wanna- I- uh- can I suck you off, please?” Whisper oh so softly that Jungkook almost doesn’t hear you. He does somehow and the way his heart flutters must be risky to his health. Maybe he’s about to have a heart attack. 

He never wants anything more. This. You are on his hold and begging to please him. Jungkook has finally won. The flutter in his heart soon travels south creating a stir in his lower stomach and groin. He was becoming hard slowly since the moment you sat on his lap but now at your words, he goes rock hard in a blink. 

“Fuck! God, yes… You don’t have to ask, pretty. You get whatever you want.” He kisses your lips softly. “You want to suck daddy’s cock?” Asks against your mouth, making you tremble. You nod hurriedly. If he’s to push his hand inside your pants, he knows he’d find you already dripping wet. See, it is fate. You’re even this compatible in bed. He knows which button to play to get you high without any drugs. And you know which strings to pull to get him drunk without alcohol. “Go on then, on your knees, princess.” He commands, flipping that switch inside his brain to become the man you want him to be. You instantly start to shuffle down when he stops you once again. “Get rid of the clothes first, want you naked, kneeling in front of me and choking on my cock.”

You comply with him without a second request. Don’t even wait until Jungkook pushes down his sweats completely before you hungrily wrap your hand around his shaft and lips around his tip, pushing him into a blissful haze. From there it’s just a mess of drool, tears, and the sound of gagging. You don’t disappoint him the slightest. You prove him right again and again. With your tongue swirling around his tip. With him hitting the back of your throat. You prove that you’re just where you should be. And Jungkook’s head is spinning. He’s sure that he’s going to explode. Yet within few minutes of fucking your throat, he had to drag you into his lap again. 

This time, however, your back facing him, your legs spread widely, and his cock buried inside you. Jungkook would’ve been more than happy to make you swallow his cum but he couldn't help but being a bit greedy and wanting the warm confines of your pussy. You clench around him every time his middle finger garzes over your clit and like clockwork, Jungkook feels his cock twitching. 

“You feel so good, slut. So fucking good… You love daddy’s cock?” He asks in your ear. You moan out an inaudible ‘yes’. Jungkook rewards you with a slow thrust. You look so blissful. So lost in him. So fucked up. Makes him want to see and try how much he can push you. How farther you’ll bend for him. “You look pretty, baby, so beautiful,” He kisses your shoulder. “Would you like to see how beautiful you are?” He asks to which he doesn’t get an answer in return. He doesn’t mind that, simply knows you’re so far gone to be able to perform coherent thoughts let alone words. “Would you like to record this baby? So, we can watch it again, andー” Rest of his words die on his tongue when you squeeze his length so hard. “Holy fuck! You like that? You want that?” You answer him with another nod but this time he wants your words. “Words baby…”

“Yes. Yes Jungkook… I…” 

That’s enough for him. He drags the chair forward keeping you on him safely, fumbling with his phone with one hand. He places it on the desk, propped against his monitor, front cam opened, and facing you both. Capturing a beautiful view of you filled with him.  And he hits the record button. Pulls the chair back to adjust into the best position. 

“There you go, slut. C’mon now, ride me!”

…………………………….

You are lying on your side, curled up on the couch and back pressed against Jungkook. His arms are wrapped around you protectively. Titanic is playing on the TV and you’re doing your best to pay attention with Jungkook’s mindless nibbling on your ear. 

Lately, you’ve grown accustomed to being close and intimate with him even when sex isn’t on the table. You’ve learnt to accept all the pampering, cuddles, and innocent kisses. You’re not sure when exactly that happened.

First, it was all about sex. After the time he fucked you in the shower and swore that you’ll never escape him, you promised yourself that you’ll never allow him another chance to even  lay a finger on you. That was going well until he sneaked into the bed that night. Each and every time you swore that it was going to be the last just to fail miserably. You couldn’t bring yourself to say no, every time his lips pressed against yours, his hands roamed across your body, his breathy voice whispered against your ears. Jungkook had it all easy and one day you’ve decided to let it happen without any resistance from your mind. Because, in the end, your body was going to betray you anyway. 

Ever since, your life has been one haze of pleasure. There was no space for pain. Even the memories of your life before thisーthe life full of misery and bitchy people has faded into the past. Jungkook has been keeping you busy all the time. Busy enough that nothing could disturb your blissful peace.

Through endless sex and mind shattering orgasms, time has slipped through your fingers like a passing breeze. You think there is no space in this entire apartment where Jungkook hasn’t had you in. Kitchen. Couch. Balcony. Pressed against a window. Even on top of the washer. And every way he can. Tied up to his bed post. Blindfolded. Even had made you ride his shoe. Had made you masturbate while he watched and recorded. Had you plugged in with his cum inside. Every kind of kink he can think of. 

You have started to lose sense of the time. Every day feels the same. You’ve fallen into the same routine. And despite all the pleasure, you’re growing tired of it. Maybe you need something new to focus on. 

“Jungkook?” You call out softly. He stops nibbling on your ear immediately and pays attention to you. 

“Yes, pretty?”

“Can you- uh- buy me a book maybe…  please,  I’m getting  kinda bored…”

A soft gasp treats you, forcing you to turn around and look at him in confusion. He’s regarding you with a wide grin. You raise a brow in question. 

“Of course, I can, baby. I can buy you anything you want. You don’t have to ask like that. Tell me what you want, and I’ll get it for you right away.” A gentle kiss to your cheek. “So, a book, huh? You’re not a reader?” He teases. 

You almost open your mouth to question how he would know before it hits you. He knows. He knows every damn thing. What’s your favorite food to, now your favorite position. Then there is you, knowing nothing except his name. You turn around completely, facing him properly.

“I am not but I can start reading.” You tilt your head up to peer at his eyes. He opens his mouth to reply but you beat him into it. “How come you have so much money?” You question without letting yourself weigh the consequences of questioning. Jungkook’s face falls. 

“I don’t have a lot of money.” He answers gently. 

“You do,” you gesture around the lavish apartment. “This apartment is the most luxurious place I’ve ever been to. And,” you clutch his shirt. “It’s like you’re never stepping outside this house. You’re earning all this money by working from home? What kind of job pays so much?”

Jungkook sighs. “I’m good at developing. Apps and stuff,” He looks carefully at you, as though he’s expecting a harsh reaction from you. You almost do before you catch yourself in time. It’s all past anyway. “I-uh- let’s say I work in I.T, yeah?” That’s the clue for you to let the topic go. 

“Where’s your family?” So you change it. 

“I don’t have one.” He answers that more easily than the previous one. 

“Oh! You’re orphー”

“They’re both alive but I refuse to have any contact with them. They’ve made my life a living hell.”

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You apologize quickly. A heaviness engulfing your chest at his words. Jungkook chuckles and brushes stray hair away from your face. 

“It’s fine, pretty. Why all the questions, though?” 

“Just because. I just realized I don’t know much about you.”

“Yeah? Why do you want to know about me?”

“I- I don’t know. I just want to know.” You shrug nonchalantly. Yet as you watch, Jungkook’s face lights up. Eyes glinting and lips spreading into a wide grin. Wide enough that he has to bite down on his lip to contain it. In a matter of seconds, he turns into a boy who's ten years younger than him. And you think you see a faint redness in his cheeks as well. 

…………………………..

Jungkook knows that you have no idea how much it means to him to know you’re getting closer and closer every day. First sex, then all the shared casual moments, and you were interested in knowing him. And then you asked him for something? 

Isn’t that what lovers do?

Aren’t you acting like a cute girlfriend?

Oh, the fluttering of his heart and stomach you’re causing. Jungkook doesn't think he’s been happier than this in his entire life. He’s riding a high just by watching how shocked and excited you are kneeling in front of the books he brought for you. 

“What the hell, Jungkook?” You look up at him, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. 

“You asked for books.” He gestures at the box before you. 

“No…” you groan. “I asked for a book. Not for a whole damn library?” Start to rummage through the box, pulling out a book. “What am I gonna do with so many books, Jungkook?”

“Read them.” Jungkook kneels beside you, stealing a kiss into your hair while he does.

“I’m a slow reader, I’ll fucking die before I ever finish reading these.” You sigh exasperatedly, being a little dramatic. To be honest, it’s not even that many. 

“Hey, it’s okay, pretty. I told you I’m gonna buy you anything. It’s fine if you can’t read them all or you start to get bored at it. Find a new hobby and tell me what you want.” He takes your hand in his. Kisses your soft hands delicately. You look at him with sparkling eyes. 

Fuck!

You’re turning to your normal self slowly. You’re getting your color back. Putting on weight. You smile more and talk to him more. Few more days and you’ll be the happiest you’ve ever been. 

See, Jungkook knew exactly what you needed. He was right all along. 

Just a few more days and he’ll be able to let his guard down. Stop watching your every move like a hawk. Rescheduling and canceling his plans because he can’t leave you alone in here. He managed a good enough security system including cameras but he’ll never know. He had to keep a close eye—for now.  But soon you’ll never think about leaving him. 

Because he can see the way you slowly understand that you belong to him. 

“You’re crazy.” You grumble as you get to your feet. Jungkook follows your actions. You take a step toward him, and bide your time for a minute before standing on your tiptoes and kiss him. Hard and deep. 

“Whoa is that a thank you?” He pants once you pull away. 

You nod. “There’s more.” Say as you throw your arms around his neck and jump. He catches you up by your thighs with the practice ease. 

“Yeah? Another video?”

“Yes, please…”

………………………….

You stay still, unsure of what to do as Jungkook gently cups your face in his hands. 

“Are you sure you're going to be okay?” He asks for what must be the millionth time. You nod again, trying to appear confident and nonchalant. But the thing is, you’re nervous. Every nerve ending in your body is ablaze. 

Jeon Jungkook is about to leave you alone in this house for the first time. Something about an unavoidable meeting with a client. 

You don’t know if  he’s ever done it without your knowledge before. Maybe he had. But at this moment, he’s doing it with your full acknowledgement. He’s stopped locking you in that damn room every time. Mainly because you’ve been attached to him by the hip lately. You’ve started sharing a bed and a shower. He had no reason to be worried about you trying anything funny, anymore. This, however, is his first time giving you this kind of freedom. And you’re unsure what to do with it. 

“Pretty?” Jungkook furrows his eyebrows in concern. 

You clear your throat quickly. “I can Jungkook, I’m a grown woman.” State as you free your face from his hold. You both know that he isn’t referring to your capabilities of staying home alone. You both know he’s asking if you’d not betray his trust. That you’ll not try something that would make both of you regret. 

He smiles softly at your admission. “Well then, I won’t be more than an hour.” He finally takes a step away. You return his smile, staying rooted in your place. He takes another and another, walking backward. Just as he’s about to turn around, you snap out of your stupor. You rush forward, five quick steps, and press a kiss to his lips.

Creases between Jungkook’s brows finally ease up as you pull away. 

“Be quick.” You mumble, turning him around and you give him a gentle push forward. This time he doesn’t stop you. You walk with him to the front door, wait till he walks out and disappears before releasing a shaky breath.

For the first time, you’re completely alone here. 

………………………..

You don’t know what you should do.

All these times, you’ve never even thought about an escape. Jungkook has kept you busy. Busy enough that you’ve forgotten you’re a prisoner here. That he’s your captor. Not someone who you can trust or your lover. But the thing is, you don’t know what to do? 

Do you try to run away? To where? To your old house? To the police station? 

Then what? Do you still want to confront Hoseok? Do you still want to meet your best friend? Yes, probably. Maybe…

But, do you have the courage to escape? 

You don’t even know what kind of security he has. In your first few days you were  so keen to know every minuscule detail about this place, planning your grand escape. Now you know nothing. 

You stand up from the couch after staring into the empty black screen of the TV for the past twenty minutes. Nothing is going to happen by wasting your time. You make your way slowly to Jungkook’s guest room where he has kept his computer, without any purpose. You don’t know what you’re doing. 

It’s just that you’re too restless to stay put. There’s a clock ticking and if you want to do something, you need to be fast about it. No, there’s no ifs, you should do something. This is your chance.  

But the problem is that you don’t really feel like doing anything. 

An inaudible groan of frustration leaves your throat. This can’t be happening? You can’t be serious. After everything, after the hell he put you through, you can’t simply want to stay with him. 

Sex was good, sure. He was treating you well, sure. Still, he’s the same person who guided you into a trap. You’ve been stuck in that trap for a while now. 

Yet even the thought of escaping. Running away from Jungkook gives you another level of fear. As if the safe bubble you’ve been living in is about to burst. It’s scary. To think that you’ll be back in the world, wandering around. Facing Daebi and Hoseok who have a fair share in your misfortune. Maybe others do too. Maybe they don’t want you back in their life at all. Jungkook does, though. Your parents must’ve accepted that you were long gone and moved on. There is no one out there who is waiting for you. Jungkook is here for you. 

But is this the life you want? 

What about walking among people on busy nights? You didn’t love your job but you loved earning your own money. What about living your life of your own accord and not having to rely on someone else? What about travelling the world? What about late night clubbing? Meeting new people? Worrying about buying new expensive clothes? What about life? 

You can’t live your whole life this way. Stuck in an apartment while your entire world revolves around one man. You don’t want it to be like that. It’s not like you’ve fallen in love with him anyway. Right? Of course, not. You’re not a victim of Stockholm syndrome. 

No. No. No… 

You have to do something!

You take a few rushed steps toward Jungkook’s working table, without knowing what you’re actually doing. Maybe you should just risk it and try to open the front door. Or maybe you can turn on his computer and send a message- not to Daebi or any of your friends- but maybe to someone else. Police. Or anyone you could reach. You can check the drawers for a second phone. You couldー

“Fuck!” A loud curse leaves your mouth as an unexpected pain erupts from your left foot. You’ve hit it on the leg of the table. You come to an abrupt halt, mewling in pain, and bend down to rub your foot and ease the pain. You stay in that position and rub your poor toes for another long second before finally straightening up, ready to continue your aimless mission. Only to mewl again when the top of your head hits something. Luckily for you, it was just a pile of books that dropped down to the floor at the impact, with a loud thud. 

“For fucks sake!” Irritation bubbles inside you. You bring your hand up to rub your head this time, eyeing the fallen pile of books. You’ve no time to reorganize it. You already wasted enough time. That’s what you almost do. 

Almost, though. 

Just before you turn around again, your heart beating in your throat, you notice the photo on the floor. Probably was inside a book and slipped out when they dropped down. You would’ve ignored it if it wasn’t for the person in the photo. You can mistake anyone else for someone else. But yourself?

A sharp inhale fills your lungs to the brim before you let that breath out. 

It’s you who’s in the photo. Undoubtedly and unmistakably. So what? It’s not that much of a surprise to Jungkook to have a photo of you when you know he’s been stalking you. But what gets you frozen in mid motion is the fact that the you in the photo was from ages ago. 

College?  

You kneel before the scattered books and papers, feeling your legs buckle. Something uneasy gathers and swirls inside you, twisting your guts unpleasantly. You know this feeling well. You’ve been getting such kind of feelings all of your damned life and everytime you weren’t wrong to suspect something bad. Because every time you felt this way, something bad happened. 

You pick up the photo with trembling hands to take a closer look. You might be mistaken about the time frame. 

A young, carefree girl smiled back at you. You’re not mistaken. No. Definitely not. This photo was taken years ago. This photo was from another world. A world you’ve left behind and forgotten for the good. 

It’s from your college days!

You feel your head start to spin. Memories of blood plague your mind. Screams of agony echo inside your skull. Touch of warm hands tingles your skin. Wetness of a sweet pair of lips brushed across your lips. 

You close your eyes to shake away the unwanted memories. You can’t let this happen now. No. Yet all you can see is the blurred lights and silhouette of people. All you can smell is the cigarettes and alcohol. 

The cursed night!

This- Jungkook and his stupid app, and his kidnapping- wasn’t the first time you’ve been through hell. You’ve been through worse back then. But after so much effort- including countless therapy, changing universities, starting your degree all over, moving into a different city and years of pain and nightmares, you left that life behind. You were living a normal, good life until Hoseok broke up with you. 

Now, a single image is bringing all the buried memories up. The things you don’t want to remember. You swallow down a sob, forcing yourself to pull it together. 

It’s going to be fine…

You reopen your eyes and stare at the photo again. Fighting, battling. Trying hard not to break down on the spot. 

You can do this…

Just put the damn photo away and focus on your task… 

It’s past. It’s past. It’s past.

It was all over.

But how does Jungkook have it? 

You freeze again, brows furrowed in confusion. Did he stalk you so hard he found your old photos as well? Did he know about the past that you hate? Did he know about the pain you went through but still decided to traumatize you more? 

You clutch the photo even tighter. You’re fighting. There’s a war going inside your head. So many things happening at the same time. And you’re afraid you’re losing. 

Let the photo go…

You blankly stare at the photo for another second before, reluctantly dragging your gaze away, to the scattered books. That’s when you notice a second photo peeking out from one of the books. 

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. 

Your hand works in autopilot mode when you grab the book and turn it over, dropping at least twenty photos inside it to your lap. You let the photo of you go as you start picking up one by one. Slowly first. Eyes carefully scanning over every single one of them.

You, with Daebi, at the university café.

You, with Hoseok, inside his car. 

You, with Jimin….

With Nina….

With some other people, you don’t recognize…

You. You. You.

At your classes.

At your apartment.

At your job.

Library.

You go through the photos as fast as the wind. Your speed builds up with every photo, until one makes you freeze.

It is not you. 

A person stands in front of a building you don’t recognize. He is wearing black, head to toe. Even his face is covered in a hoodie. The memories return. Blood. Screams. Light… and a guy. His hands wrapped around you, mumbling sweet nothing in your ear. His hands were covered in blood. His face was covered in a hoodie. 

Suddenly, you are sitting in the back of that business class. A meek, nerdy guy next to you. His face hidden, all you can see is a part of his cheek and set of pretty pink lips. Even with the time and all your efforts to drown those memories, you remember him like you’re staring at him. 

Lips. 

Pretty pink lips. 

You even remember the taste of those lips. The warmth of them.

Those lips should’ve faded into memory. The memories should be jumbled. You should only remember the faded bits. But strangely you don’t. Instead, you feel like you’ve seen the same lips yesterday. You feel like those lips were pressed against yours a moment ago. 

Pretty pink lips…

Out of nowhere Jungkook’s smile flashes across your mind. The way his lips stretch, making the lip ring glint. The way he bites onto his bottom lip to contain his goofy smile. That adorable, boyish smile. 

Haven’t you seen that smile before as well?

The guy who wore that hoodie, that guy who never told you his name, kept his face hidden from you, drugged you, almost killed a person in front of you. Hasn’t he smiled the same way? It was such a rare thing but you’ve seen him smile. And you’ve seen his lips. Is it possible to recognize someone with their lips? 

No…. That can’t be. No fucking way. 

You gasp for air even though there is nothing keeping you from inhaling. That familiar fear you’ve not experienced for a long time now, shoots across your body, wrapping around your bones, flesh, and skin. 

No….

Out of all the fucked up and twisted things in your life, this can’t be one. 

You hurriedly throw away the image and pick up the last one. And with that the last threads of hope you hold onto are shredded into million pieces. 

It’s an exact similar second image of the previous one. The same person is standing in the same posture in front of the same building. Yet the hood that covered his face had fallen back, revealing his face. 

The same face that had greeted you every morning for the past couple months. The face that you always found to be astonishingly handsome. The face that lured you into this trap through that AI app. 

It’s the same person. Just far, far younger. 

Jeon Jungkook!

Right then, you lose the battle. The sobs and cries you are trying so hard not to let out, escapes you as one loud gasp, followed by uncontrollable tears. Yet before that gasp can turn into loud sobs a familiar voice distracts you. 

“Pretty?”

You turn around faster than a bolt of lightning. Your eyes meet with Jungkook who stands in the doorway, scowling, confused. In another time you would’ve been scared for your life. So startled that you start to stutter. This moment, however, you don’t feel anything remotely close to fear. Instead, a rage builds up inside you. A rage that is born from a hurt. 

Ridiculous. Why would you be hurt? You should only be angry. 

“You motherfucker!” You rush into your feet. Storm toward Jungkook within a blink of an eye. “You fucking lied to me! It was you! It was you all along! You were the prick who ruined my life back then and now….” You screech through your lungs, tears mixing with your enraged words and making your voice crack. “And you lied to me! Every, fucking, person in my life…” You curl your fists into tiny balls, the photo still clutched between your fingers, as you hit Jungkook’s chest. “Everyone… lied to me…” You hit him over and over. Clenching your teeth and pouring all your anger as tears. “I trusted you… And you lied to me too… You fuckingー”

“Pretty, hey, hey…” Jungkook grabs your fists, preventing you from attacking him like a mad cat. You struggle against him the best you can but he holds you tight. “Het, pretty… fuck! Listen to me!”

“I fucking hate you Jeon Jungkook! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hateー” You scream. Jungkook muffles your screams by pulling you into his chest. “I hate you so much.” So, you mumble into his chest, giving up trying to free yourself from his hold. He’s too strong for you. 

You should be mad, but what you feel is hurt. 

Did you really trust your captor? 

“I didn’t lie to you… No, baby, I didn’t.” He mutters into your hair. You don’t give him a reply. Just break into his chest. “I was just a kid, I didn’t know what I was doing.” He continues. “I just wanted a chance to show you that I- I- uh- loved you,” His hold on you tightens. “I’ve always loved you. So damn much. But you were so gone about your pathetic ex, you didn’t even notice me. I had to do something.”

You don’t even know what he’s saying anymore. Your head is spinning and your ears are ringing. Yet at the back of your mind, the pieces finally fall into place. 

“I won’t accept the defeat this time…”

“You never saw how I always loved you…”

You never paid that much of an attention to those words. Now they make sense. 

“Y-you fucking- drugged me… y-you almost let someone toー” You stutter out weakly, only to get cut off. 

“I didn’t, did I? I’d never let anyone lay a fucking finger on you.”

You ignore what he’s saying. “Y-you let me wa-watch a-as you killed a person.”

“He didn’t die.”

As if that would change anything. 

“Oh god, why Jungkook? Why me? What did I ever do to you?”

“Don’t say that, pretty. Don’t fucking say that,” Jungkook hides his face in your hair. “You have no idea how much I love you… I was just trying. I was a kid,” his voice cracks painfully, and even without looking at him, you get the suspicion that he’s joined you with the crying. “I was trying to win you over and that was a mistake. I’m so sorry, princess, don’t say you hate me. C’mon I deserve a chance. I- I- was trying while your boyfriend was getting his cock sucked by your best friend.” 

Your sobs deepen. Jungkook presses kiss after kiss into your hair. 

“I’m so sorry baby, but give me a chance… You know I’ll never hurt you. Let me tell you the full story.”

You don’t want to listen to any story. No. You don’t want this pain. 

You pull away from his chest despite his reluctance. For a second you peer into his glossy eyes. Then in the next, you pull him into a hungry kiss. 

Fuck this!

Fuck your life!

Jungkook is fucking sick. But still, you know he’s painfully in love with you. 

If you can’t escape this hell, then you might get used to it.

………………………

At Hoseok’s place

“Are you guys fucking kidding me?” Jimin practically throws the tablet away. Luckily it doesn’t hit anything but just drops into the couch. 

“What do you want us to do, Jimin?” Deabi shouts across from the living room, hands dramatically thrown in the air. 

Hoseok watches wearily as his girlfriend and best friend fight over a matter that’s worth all the fighting. 

“Is that even a question, Daebi? That’s your fucking best friend. You give her up that easily?” Jimin says, with a rage Hoseok has only seen once — on that cursed night.

“I’m tired, for God’s sake! I’m tired and I can’t do this anymore.” Daebi slumps her shoulders. 

“You’re a fucking coward!” Jimin points a finger at her. Then turns his glare to Hoseok. “You too. You both are fucking cowards. First, you went behind her back and then when she needed you, you just give up?”

“We- we’re not—” Hoseok tries to argue when Jimin stops him. 

“Save the fucking excuses, man. I can’t believe you dragged us into this shit as well? I can’t believe you did that to her.” Jimin scoffs. “But guess what? I’m better than you. I’m not fucking giving up.”

“Then what the hell are you going to do?” Hoseok yells for the first time as well. This is ridiculous. He doesn’t want to give up. No. But things have turned to a point where there is no answer for anything. After exactly four months of continuous searching, and no clue, everyone has accepted that you are dead. The case isn’t officially closed yet but the fire it had caused has died down. 

One of their good friends who was actively working on the case has informed Hoseok that there might be no hope. And after a year, the case would be officially closing and the court would declare you dead, citing your mental instability. He had asked Hoseok to give up on hope. 

Apparently, Jimin isn’t ready to do so. Which is good. Hoseok would be happy to be a part of that. But the question remains. What are they going to do? An unwavering determination without a plan is stupid, which describes Jimin at this moment.

Hoseok knows where Jimin comes from. Jimin used to be a good friend of yours. He met you because of Hoseok and therefore you were always out of reach for him. But maybe if Hoseok never was a part of that equation Jimin should’ve taken your friendship into other levels. Yet life had different plans. And Jimin settled into being that good friend who would travel impossible distances to make sure his friends are okay. 

That’s exactly what Jimin is trying to do. You grew apart after your nasty breakup with Hoseok. Hoseok knows that. Mainly because Jimin is Hoseok’s friend and Jimin was ashamed to face you. Then before you could actually become friends again you’ve disappeared. 

Then there must be the guilt. Guilt of finally knowing Hoseok and Daebi’s story. They decided to come clean to at least Jimin and Nina after you disappeared. They wanted a way to ease their consciousness, even when they knew it wasn’t going to go well. Just as expected, Jimin was ready to murder them both. Disappointed. So was Nina. Jimin even stopped talking to Hoseok, until he sent the text on the group chat today. 

The very reason why Jimin barged in.

“I don’t know… maybe trying to convince your detective friend not to give up so easily. It’s just fucking four months.” Jimin grits. 

Technically, it’s turning five in a week. And Hoseok can’t do such a thing. He is friends with a detective who was happy to take over your case. Friends. That’s the word. He is not a boss. 

“Jimin-ah…” Hoseok sighs, not knowing exactly how to explain to his friend that this is out of his control. 

Jimin lets out a bitter chuckle. “What? You can’t? Of course, you can’t.” He takes a threatening step toward Hoseok. “Well, you know what Hoseok? It’s not that you can’t, it’s that you don’t. I fucking bet you two,” he gestures between Hoseok and Daebi. “Are actually fucking happy that she went missing.” Jimin spits out making Hoseok’s eyes widen. 

What now?

And making it worse Jimin adds more to his nonsense with a low voice. “Maybe, you’re the reason why she—”

Jimin doesn’t get to finish the sentence when Hoseok practically jumps at him, grabbing from his shirt with both hands. 

“What the fuck did you say?” Hoseok screeches. Jimin doesn’t even flinch at the sudden impact. 

“Oh god, will you guys stop… we’re friends.” Before Jimin can answer Hoseok, Daebi meddles, trying to part the two friends who are about to strangle each other. 

“Friends?” Jimin shakes Hoseok’s hands off him, scoffing. “I don’t see any friends here. In fact, I’m not your friend Daebi.” With that he throws a final glare at Hoseok. Turns around. “Enjoy. Get engaged. Hell, get married so we can throw a party.” Says before walking away and disappears through the front door. 

A heavy silence falls over. 

“I’m so disappointed in you guys.” After a minute, Nina, who’s been so quiet and pale, mumbles weakly. 

Then she too walks slowly over to the front door. 

……………………………………..

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[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember 29: Stepcest

Mommy Ryujin should really read labels more.

Length 1.8K

Ryujin X Mreader

It was a bit upsetting when your father told you he couldn’t come along to the vacation you had planned for the family. It was a trip to Hawaii you had spent a lot of money on. You didn’t particularly want to spend time with your stepmother. Ryujin was just a little older than you. It was a bit weird for you, but you couldn’t just cancel the trip; there wouldn’t be any refund. So you went on the trip you had planned with Ryujin. It was a bit awkward at first, but after a while, the two of you managed to get along somewhat. You have done some nice activities like scuba diving, paddleboarding, and surfing, and all these activities got you closer to Ryujin. You couldn’t help but look at her body as it got wet whenever she fell into the water. 

It made you horny, but you couldn’t fuck your stepmother. You would need to find someone else to help. While you were prepping to explore the nightlife of the main island, Ryujin came into the room. “Hey, where are you going?”

“I’ll just be waking around. It’s about time we did some of our own things, right?” Ryujin nodded; she hadn’t really planned on doing anything.

“I think I’ll just be here and relax a little. You go have fun. Mommy knows you’ll be fine,” She joked. It irked you, though; she thought of it as a little joke, but it’s something that made you slightly uncomfortable. You grab the room keys and give her a quick nod before leaving quietly. Ryujins sighs as she begins to look through the mini-fridge. The prices of the drinks inside were enough to drive her away. She looked around before noticing a little packet you had left behind. She thought it was a drink mix.

She took the packet. " Long-lasting energy?” Ryujin figured you wouldn’t miss it, so she ripped it open and poured the contents into her water bottle, watching it turn a vivid blue as she shook her bottle. She sipped it; the flavor wasn’t so bad. It was not something she would choose, but it was better than nothing. As she drank it, though, Ryujin felt her body heating up. As she headed to the bathroom, Ryujin’s chest brushed against a wall, sending shockwaves through her body. Stepping inside, she saw her nipples poking through her shirt. Bringing her hand to her chest, she felt the same tingling; she cooed as the wave of pleasure hit her. Her other hand moved under her pants. She was already wet; her body was already craving more than just a simple touch. Ryujin rubbed her slit, moaning softly as she stared at herself in the mirror. Knowing you would be gone for a few hours, she went back to bed, fingering herself to several orgasms. The evening had turned to night, and Ryujin was still going. The long-lasting energy text on the packet made sense to her now. 

When the doorknob started to jiggle, though, she threw a blanket over herself and pretended to be asleep. You stepped through the door more than a little tipsy; instead of heading to your room, you went to Ryujin’s, landing next to her and drifting off to sleep.

She rubbed her slit, struggling to hold back her moans. The sounds of her fingers pumping in and out of her wet cunt were growing louder as she sped up. Ryujin grabbed at her breasts, her body becoming too hot. It was unbearable. She looked over her shoulder, staring at you. Ryujin noticed something, though; she saw that you were hard. She stared at your bulge, her fingers moving along her slit. She whimpered softly, dirty thoughts crossing her mind. She was your stepmother, yet her thoughts drifted to unsavory places. Ryujin reached over to you, her hand hovering above your bulge as she considered crossing the line. She bit her lip, struggling to contain her desires. Ryujin let her hand fall on your bulge, feeling it twitch. Unconsciously, she licked her lips. “Just a taste. That’s all I need.” Ryujin whispered to herself as she silently moved between your legs, tugging at your sweatpants, pulling your underwear along with them. The waistband held you back, but as soon as she had pulled just a little too far, your cock swung toward her, smacking her. 

Ryujin didn’t dare move; her nostril filled with your musk as she took a deep breath. Her head was foggy as she stuck her tongue out. She dragged it along your shaft, moaning softly as she got a taste of you. It was like a drug; now that she had a taste, she wanted more. Coming to the tip, Ryujin couldn’t help but wrap her lips around your cock, beginning to bob her head almost immediately. Ryujin’s moans became louder as she bobbed her head, her tongue swirling around the tip of your cock as she continued to finger herself. She didn’t care that you were her stepson, she was just desperate for a cock. As your stepmom sucked on your cock she could feel her climax approaching. She arched her back, readying herself for the waves of pleasure that were about to wash over her. Ryujin pushed herself down to the base of your cock, making it hit the back of her throat.

You began to stir, groaning as you felt something warm around your cock. As you look down, you see Ryujin gorging herself on it, her drool making your cock slick as she bobbed her head. “R-ryujin,” you groan, unable to move as the pleasure fills your body. 

“Shhh, let Mommy take care of you.” She moaned, running her hand along your shaft. “Mommy just needs a little taste.” She said softly before wrapping her lips around your cock again. She bobbed her head slower now, letting her tongue move along the sides of your cock as she slowly took in more of your cock. You let her keep going. Ryujin was a beautiful woman. How could you resist her when she was giving you a blowjob? The fact she was your stepmother was something you weren’t thinking about in your drunken state.  Ryujin moved up your body, nipping at your neck as she stroked your cock. 

You move your hands to her ass, squeezing the soft flesh and making Ryujin moan. “You such a dirty boy,” she teased. You squeezed her ass again; you had stared at it the past few days when you were with Ryujin. It was nice and full, bouncing whenever she jumped. “I need you to fuck me,” Ryujin whispered, her voice laced with lust. She tugs on your arm as she pulls away from you, setting herself up for you to take her. She gets on all fours, and it’s only now you notice she isn’t wearing any underwear and only has on her white tank top. You got behind Ryujin, watching as she swayed her ass in front of you, “Come on, I need you.”

You slapped Ryujin’s ass, watching her flesh jiggle before delivering another smack. “Mmm, don’t tease me. Fuck mommy already.” Ryujin groaned, raising her ass and arching her back for you. You hold her waist with one hand, using the other to bring your cock in line with her slit. Prodding the entrance, you push the head in, spreading her lips apart. Ryujin moans as she feels your cock stretching her. “You're so big,” she mumbles before your ram your length inside her cunt. Ryujin cries out as your cock pushes her walls apart. Her eyes nearly roll into the back of her head, her body shakes, and she almost cums. You pull out quickly, grabbing her shoulder with your free hand before ramming yourself back inside. Ryujin moans your name as you begin to pound away at her body. The cock that she was craving was finally inside her.

She pushes her hips back and plays with her clit. The pleasure was driving her crazy. Your stepmother begs for more. You give her exactly what she wants, pressing her against the mattress and ramming your cock into her cunt. Ryujin smiles, the pleasure pushing her over the edge. Ryujin cries out as she cums on your cock, her nectar coating your cock before squirting onto the bed. You continue your thrusts, watching her ass and considering using the other hole. You pull out of Ryujin’s pussy, gulping as you move your cock to her other hole. Ryujin can barely think as she feels your cock pressing against her asshole. “Hm? Hold on…” she says weakly as you push your cock into the puckered hole, stretching it. “Ah, w-wait, I’m not ready.” Ryujin groans.

The tight hole painfully squeezes down on your shaft as you push more of your length inside. Ryujin continues to groan, feeling your cock stretch her unused asshole. She feels fuller than ever before. The sensation makes her cum as she feels you thrust the final inches into her. She squirts again, her nectar soaking the mattress. “You’re so tight? Has Dad used this hole before?”

“Never,” Ryujin mumbles, her strength leaving her body, causing her to flop onto the bed. You hold her waist up as you pull out slowly, dragging along her walls. Somehow she has enough energy to reach back and stretch her cheeks, “Fuck my ass, please.” Ryujin had utterly lost it. The feeling of having her ass filled by her stepson was too much. You drive your cock back into Ryujin’s ass. She begs you for more, and with every thrust, it becomes easier to fuck Ryujin. Her walls become slick with her nectar. The pain and pleasure caused by your cock was addictive; you met Ryujin’s cries for more. You stirred her guts as you got closer to your climax. Ryujin felt your cock begin to throb inside her and screamed, “Cum inside Mommy’s ass!” 

“If that’s what you want,” you grunt before burying yourself inside her ass. Your cum floods her guts. Ryujin’s body shakes as she has a mind-shattering orgasm. She collapses onto the bed, eyes in the back of her head. You pull out slowly, coming out of her ass with a pop. Her asshole winks at you as it tries to shut, and your cum leaks out of it slowly, running down her body until it meets the bed. You collapse beside Ryujin, falling asleep almost instantly.

When the sun rose the following day, you woke up to the sight of Ryujin’s back; she was riding you. Ryujin was bouncing on your cock, impaling her ass on it every time. When you grab her waist, she looks over her shoulder, “Good Morning,” She groans. “Why don’t we spend today inside and get to know each other a little more? I’m sure your dad won’t mind.”

[aeluteria]

Pillows and glass walls

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ summary: you develop a habit surrounding yourself with pillows when you sleep — as if trying to replicate certain someone's presence. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ pairing: MC!reader x Caleb ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ word count: 1,666 ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ general info: hurt/comfort, fluff, not established relationship, longing Caleb if you look really close act surprised here ────── ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ notes: proofread four times and all but it's possible there's still some mistakes since English isn't my first language. Enjoy!

After Caleb’s death, you’re haunted by nightmares, and you get used to sleeping surrounded by pillows. There’s something comforting about the way they press against your body from all sides, almost wrapping you in their softness. The pretty spacious bed narrows down to about half a meter all thanks to at least four pillows around you. One under your head, one in front of you, one under your arm, and one behind your back. The desperate longing for the phantom sensation of something's — someone's — presence is almost unbearable.

When you and Caleb used to stay up late watching yet another late-night show, he would often fall asleep next to you, allowing you to throw your arms and legs over him, even if it meant he’d have to spend the rest of the night in the same and probably — definetely — not so comfortable position. He knew he would wake you up the moment he tried to move away. Back then, you shared the narrow seat of the sofa in the gran's living room, squeezed together with your limbs intertwined.

Now, you try to recreate that feeling by placing a pillow behind your back, nearly trapping yourself between it and the one you so habitually throw your arm and leg over. The pillows are too soft; they don’t compare to Caleb’s strong, toned body, which you remember so clearly in your embrace. But… it’s something, at least. 

It becomes your ritual — a small tradition you follow almost religiously, day after day. 

One pillow goes under your head — as it should, just like most people sleep. 

The second one is tucked behind your back — a barrier, a false sense of protection, because you don’t like to sleep with your back exposed. 

The third one you hug, throwing a leg over it, pressing it as close as possible in an attempt to recreate that warm, familiar embrace. 

The fourth, the smallest, goes under your free elbow, covering your side and chest. 

You pull the blanket over yourself, hiding beneath its soft folds. And finally, you allow the warmth and weight to lull you to sleep.

The same ritual every night. 

A quirk that has become a necessity. 

Sometimes you wonder if it should be the first and only thing on your list of bad habits.

──────

After Caleb’s return, you continue sleeping surrounded by pillows. Caleb notices. Of course he does — how could he not? — and silently buys you a few more pillows, leaving them in your room in his Skyhaven apartment. He doesn’t ask where you got this habit from, but you feel like he’s already figured it out. Staying over at his place, you don’t change your ritual, turning the huge bed into a plush-pillow sanctuary. 

Caleb is back, but it feels like he’s further away from you than ever. The bed sheets and blanket smell of his cologne — fresh, familiar — and in those fragile evening moments, you desperately want to believe that you and Caleb are truly home again. 

That the muffled muttering from the living room isn’t reports and endless briefings that follow Caleb even outside of work — but the forgotten TV, its volume turned down to a minimum. 

That the lights of the city breaking through the curtains are in fact soft moonlight, cradling the summer night in its embrace. 

That you’re not in this big, almost lifeless apartment desperately clutching a pillow — but on a couch in the not-so-big gran's living room holding a drowsy Caleb, wrapped in the warmth of summer that you’ll spend together.

Caleb has returned to your life. But now, it feels like there’s a glass wall between you — right where the warmth, the tenderness, the infinite trust used to be.

It’s starting to crack. And behind the cracks you can sense all these familiar feelings and emotions trying to break through. But it’s not enough. 

You’re afraid that this glass wall will never shatter.

Even after Caleb’s return you’re still haunted by nightmares. Waking from them in the quiet of your own home became familiar long ago. But in the silence of the room at Skyhaven screaming in desperation and fear feels almost like a crime. You cover your mouth with your palm, your fingers tremble. The bed is a mess, pillows scattered across the floor except the one under your head. The nightmare’s grim reality still flickers in your mind, and you blink rapidly, trying to push it away. You don’t hear hurried footsteps down the hallway, only noticing them when they stop with the sound of a door opening. Caleb is standing in the doorway — disheveled from sleep, but alert and tense, like a spring ready to snap at any moment. He quickly scans the room, and finding no danger, softly approaches the bed, sitting on the edge. The mattress dips under his weight, and you hurriedly wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, brushing away the tears. But Caleb still notices.

“Are you okay?”

His voice is slightly hoarse from sleep, and a wave of shame and guilt rises in your chest and washes over you. You nod quickly — too quickly for it to seem truly sincere.

“Yeah, I just… just had a nightmare. Sorry for waking you.”

Caleb reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. It takes a lot not to lean into his touch, seeking comfort. Caleb notices — he himself touches your cheek with his palm, and you press into it, closing your eyes for a moment to catch your breath. Caleb caresses your cheek with his thumb, wiping away the damp trails of your tears. 

For a moment, it feels like the world narrows down to the two of you sitting across from each other. 

Almost like before, almost like in the past. 

Except that now everything feels completely different.

“Don’t apologize, pipsqueak. Want me to make you some warm herbal tea? It’ll help you calm down.” 

You know there are only a few hours left before his alarm goes off, but despite that he’s still willing to spend those precious minutes with you. You swallow the lump in your throat and shake your head with a faint smile.

“I’m fine, really.” “You’re still crying.”

Caleb traces a finger up your cheek to the corner of your eye, wiping the tear with his thumb. In his gaze you see familiar concern, warmth, and endless tenderness — and for a moment it feels like nothing has changed. 

Like you’re back on the narrow couch in the gran's living room, lazily debating who will fall asleep first. 

Like you're back in those carefree days when the biggest problem was deciding which flavor of ice cream to choose.

Like you’re back together for the whole summer, and even the coming separation when his vacation ends won’t overshadow this precious time. 

You reach out to him, wrapping your arms around his chest in the familiar gesture, nuzzling your face in the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, inhaling the fresh scent of his shower gel and closing your eyes. You feel him hold you back almost immediately. Like he was waiting for this. His breath catches for just a moment, and you swear you can feel his heartbeat quickening by a dozen beats per minute. Your heart seems to echo his.

“I dreamed that you…” “Shh, don’t think about it.” 

Caleb strokes your back, and you feel the warmth of his hands even through your clothes. 

“I’m here with you, and I’m not going anywhere.” 

He briefly kisses your forehead, touch almost ghostly on your skin.

“Caleb?..”

He pulls back slightly, looking at you with those impossibly beautiful sunset-colored eyes, and your heart tightens with unbearable tenderness. You gently touch his cheek, almost as if trying to make sure he’s real, that he’s really here, that he’s truly not going anywhere. Caleb turns his head and softly kisses the center of your palm.

“Stay with me tonight. Please.”

His eyelashes flutter as he blinks in surprise. In the dim light of the room you see his lips curl into a smile, the features of his face soften, and the worry fades from his eyes. Caleb lies down beside you, like he’s done so many times before, pulling you closer and holding you tight. His chest rises and falls, and you rest your hand on it. The cool metal of his pendant brushes against your skin, and you gently trace its contours with your finger. Caleb slowly runs his fingers through your hair, and you feel his breath on your forehead.

“I’ll stay with you forever. Just ask me.” 

He slowly strokes your back. 

His touch barely there, almost hesitant — as if he's afraid to disturb the fragility of the moment.

“...stay with me forever.”

You echo, closing your eyes as sleep takes over. Caleb pulls the blanket over both of you, and the warmth surrounds you completely. You finally let go, surrendering to sleep.

You don't realize that for the first time in many nights you didn’t even think about the pillows scattered on the floor.

You won’t need them tonight. 

And something in you wants to believe that from this very moment you’ll never need them at all.

The glass wall between you and Caleb seems to crack once more — and this crack is deeper than all of those before.

And through it, that familiar and long-awaited warmth breaks through, almost searing in its wake.

“No one will dare to separate us. Never again. I promise.”

He kisses your forehead briefly and his lips linger on your skin just a little longer than necessary. Then they slide down, brushing your cheek, teasingly touching the tip of your nose. Finally, they come to rest near the corner of your mouth.

You’re absolutely sure this warm touch of his lips so dangerously close to your own was just a dream.

And just as absolutely, you’re not sure you’ll ever admit to yourself that you don’t mind these kinds of dreams at all.

[carminechrollo]

FROM ME TO YOU | miya atsumu x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: A spontaneous winter break trip to Shizuoka with your friends strains your sanity as you try to keep your uncontrollable feelings for Miya Atsumu at bay.

CONTENT WARNING: college au, slice of life, eventual romance, requited unrequited love, miscommunication, mutual pining, slow burn, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, light smut (mdni), suggestive themes, snowboarder!kuroo cameo, fic is set in shizuoka japan, mentioned hinata shoyo, intoxication, alcohol, miya atsumu is an idiot, very self indulgent, not beta read.

WORD COUNT: 22,696

NOTES: this is a repost from my previous blog! originally this fic was a 5-chapter series but i decided to post it as a one shot just because haha. divider: uzmacchiato.

‘You never really know when you’ve fallen in love. One day you just wake up and realise that it’s more than just shallow feelings.’

A phrase you’ve heard countless times growing up. You never really understood it well as a believer of love at first sight, thinking that the cliché ‘time slowing down as you see your lover before you’ was all there was to it to fully grasp the concept of love—kind of like in romantic movies where the camera dramatically pans around the main character after seeing their love interest. Every person around you disappearing until all there was left were the two of you, heart racing a little too fast, the nervousness settling in—the whole shebang.

Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t as climactic as they ought to be in movies—not one soul magically disappeared until it was just the two of you, the time did not, in fact, slow down. If anything, your heart stuttered like crazy, threatening to leap from your rib cage and onto his hands as if they were its home. At least the movies got that one thing right.

It was down right frustrating leading up to the feelings you now had for none other than Miya Atsumu.

Some days were filled with fluttering heart beats, and dreamy sighs—tucking your chin on your palm at the blissful feeling of being infatuated with the blonde male. As if on cloud nine, drifting along the feathery scenery atop a huge ivory cloud, cupid’s bow comfortably pierced right through your heart. 

Other days were extremely unbearable, plagued with the ache of yearning, and unwanted jealousy—painfully digging your nails into your palm at the sight of someone else shamelessly flirting with Atsumu. It almost felt like a curse weighed upon you the day you were born, being smitten with a ladies’ man. On days like these, cupid’s bow uncomfortably dug into your heart like a painful itch—awkwardly poking out from your chest like an unconcealed badge saying, ‘Hey, look at me! I have a crush on someone who doesn’t even like me back. How stupid of me!’

Never mind that because the day it finally settled uncomfortably in your bones—that your feelings weren’t mere infatuation—you felt like you were in deep, deep shit. Absolutely fucked with a capital ‘F’ because suddenly the way Atsumu’s laugh sounded was like a sweet, sweet melody; an external stimuli to get your heart racing. The way his eyes crinkled, lashes kissing his cheeks as he laughed at a funny joke, oh, you were weak in the knees.

Your lovesick gaze unceremoniously bore into his handsome face, blissfully unaware of your raging feelings for him. You knew right then and there that love was what you felt for your close friend.

An uncharted territory that you swore to never step foot on, until now.

“You brought your passport?” Kita stared at the mini scarlet document resting between Atsumu’s slender fingers, brows raised with slight amusement. His expressionless question halted the quiet conversation amongst your group, all turning to look at the flustered blonde—his face now matching the colour of the passport in his hand.

“Y-yeah? Are we not supposed ta or somethin’?” Atsumu looked around at the growing amusement between his friends, except for Kita who only closed his eyes in defeat. The former looked over to you for help, honeyed eyes projecting a mix of slight panic and embarrassment, you could only look away in second hand embarrassment, cheeks heated from the eye contact.

“It’s a domestic flight, dumbass!” Osamu lightly smacked his twin on the back of his head, clicking his tongue at the lack of common sense. Before the two could even start their endless bickering, the line moved, signalling the group’s turn. Kita pulled the latter away with him to the check-in counter, saving everyone else’s ears being talked off with the twin’s petty arguments.

Winter break, a convenient time for you and your friends to get together and de-stress from the pressure of university. If anything, it was a purely spontaneous getaway trip to Shizuoka. The trip included a little pit stop to Tokyo for some much needed splurging—totally not your idea—before taking the train back down for Shizuoka. 

It all started in the group chat with a lone screenshot from Suna, an on-going deal of inexpensive domestic flights from Hyōgo to Tokyo. There wasn’t even a message attached to the picture, just a wordless tactic in hopes to get the group together for an exciting winter ahead. First to see it was Atsumu, who immediately approved of the idea with an unnecessary amount of exclamation marks tied to his message. Then, it became a domino effect where the rest of the group voiced their interests, including yourself.

Next thing you knew, the five of you were holed up in the twin’s dining table—you and Kita sat on the chairs, laptop on the table with a tab of the itinerary opened, and affordable accomodations in Shizuoka. With a quick transfer of funds from one bank account to another, you all looked forward to spending 4 days outside Hyōgo, 379 kilometres away from home. 

Now, the five of you stood in the domestic terminal during the early hours of 7 AM, bound for Haneda Airport. Albeit, a bit sleepy, you were excited, deeming this trip as a little treat for making it through a rather tedious semester.

Sitting in between Suna and Kita, who respectively sat in the window and aisle seats, you took a moment to close your eyes as a muffled announcement from the aeroplane’s captain filled the speakers, the deep hum of the plane’s engines roaring as it moved up the runway, preparing for takeoff. Low murmurs of passengers, and the twin’s deep chatter behind you filled your ears like white noise, focusing on calming your racing heart.

You recounted a few minutes ago where Atsumu had opted to sit next to you, preferably on the window seat before Suna beat him to it, telling the latter that they had designated seats on their ticket, a teasing tongue poking out. ‘Like that matters.’ The blonde muttered, followed by a string of silent curses aimed at his friend before being ushered onto the next row behind by Osamu.

It was always like that with Atsumu and his spontaneity—he had no qualms sitting a row behind when you all had booked your tickets, even saying that he didn’t care wherever he sat as long as he landed in Tokyo in one piece. What drove him to change his mind was beyond your understanding.

Though, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t grasp onto that little hope of possibly sitting next to Atsumu for the whole flight. To your dismay, it dissipated the second you held onto it—all thanks to Suna Rintarou. Nonetheless, you would’ve felt awkward anyway, now that your heart weighed heavy with the burden of being hopelessly in love, and shamelessly pining.

You wouldn’t know how you would’ve acted during the span of 1 hour and 10 minutes; arms touching one another albeit covered in thick layers to fend off cold, and knees dangerously close—your cheeks heated at the thought. Sure, it was nothing intimate but that was Atsumu’s effect on you, and it absolutely drove you up the wall.

It wasn’t like this before, and you felt pathetic.

Gone were the days where you could hold a solid conversation with Atsumu without stuttering, and fidgeting like an idiot—where you were able to freely speak to him without any inhibitions weighing your shoulders. Come to think of it, the last time this probably happened was way back in second-year highschool. You were in second-year college now.

If you were being completely honest, you caught yourself unintentionally placing some distance between you and Atsumu, just a tad bit for the sake of your sanity. Could you really blame yourself? With the way he has been acting indifferent, it did some damage to your poor, poor heart—everyone had their limits and you were bound to reach yours soon enough. Especially with the coming days ahead, seeing him after you wake up, and before going to sleep. All in his glory.

Heavens above, have mercy on your heart.

Suna nudged you awake, head resting on his shoulder for the duration of the flight. You muttered a small apology as he let out a small groan, fingers digging into his padded jacket to massage the tense muscles of his shoulder. “We’re in Tokyo, sleepy head.” Atsumu prodded a finger at your head, poking his tongue out as you turned to face him, as if on cue, your heart stuttered. You could only playfully roll your eyes in response.

Disembarking the plane, and claiming luggages proceeded without a hitch; thankfully, all your hard suitcases were still intact, and not shattered from the rough handling in the airport. After conveniently hailing a jumbo taxi, you were on your way to the heart of Tokyo. Naturally, Kita sat at the front passenger seat, having no trouble exchanging polite conversation with the driver. You and Osamu sat in the middle row while Atsumu and Suna were at the back.

You had to stop yourself from climbing to the back right after Atsumu did so, letting the brunette happily go instead, earning furrowed brows from the former—one that you tried your best to ignore.

The sound of wheels rolling along concrete filled your ears, along with the hustling and bustling of Central Tokyo as the group searched for the nearest luggage storage. A sea of bodies clad in layers of business casual outfits, men and women alike hastily walking to their destinations. The beloved city was adorned with Christmas lights and decorations, radiant hues of red, green, and gold standing out against the dark winter coats locals donned.

That was to be expected, the start of winter break being only a day after Christmas. It always cheered you up in every sense, seeing all sorts of novel decorations put your mind in a better place.

“Alright! Now that’s done, let’s get somethin’ ta eat.” Osamu locked the storage behind him, quickly tucking his hands back inside his trench coat, puffs of white fog leaving his lips with every word spoken. This earned a handful of hums from the rest, without a doubt there was no arguing when it came to eating food.

Atsumu fell into a step beside you, letting out an exaggerated noise as he shuddered from the winter breeze of Tokyo. “Hey. Seems like I haven’t talked ta ya in forever. Y’ avoidin’ me or somethin’?” The blonde teased, all smiles with a tinge of crimson painted on his nose, and cheeks—from the cold, you presumed. The lack of seriousness in his tone put you at a slight ease, at least you didn’t have to start explaining why you were kind of avoiding him.

You shook your head, a genuine laugh leaving your lips as his honeyed eyes met your own, “Me? Never.” This earned a proud smile from your friend, chest puffing in absolute pride underneath the thick layers of winter fabrics. 

“Good. I dunno what I’ll do if ya start avoidin’ me.”

His saccharine gaze lingered on your own a little too long for your sanity, all you could do was blink in response, mind flying off into the unknown as your heart picked up its pace yet again. Atsumu’s velvety stare was intense, it was like standing under the blazing sun on a scorching summer day, making you feel all sorts of emotions from A to Z.

Suddenly, the cerulean scarf around your neck felt a tad too restricting, the puffer jacket you wore became awfully warm, and the crisp morning air of Tokyo seemed too thin. Everything felt weird all of a sudden—your skin prickled under his honeyed eyes, getting lost in them as each slow second passed.

“Oi! Are you two coming or not?” Suna’s voice sharply sliced through the enchanting trance you and Atsumu were under, jolting you both back into reality. The rest of them were already far ahead looking into shops for a quick bite, indicating that somewhere down the line, the two of you had stopped walking just to stare into each other’s eyes. How embarrassing.

The latter cleared his throat, embarrassment settling in upon realising the situation at hand. He muttered a quick ‘let’s go’ before starting a slow jog over to the rest of the group, acting like he didn’t just stare into your soul for god knows how many seconds. Slapping your cheeks, and letting out a puff of breath, you headed towards your friends, navigating through the crowded footpath and making sure not to accidentally bump into anyone.

The next few hours consisted of wisely spending money—per Kita’s words—in the heart of Tokyo. Despite endlessly complaining at first, the twins and Suna were soon sucked into the shopping fever. Though, the four of you had to worry about your luggages back at the storage, resulting in only buying items that you desperately wanted, and essentials. This unfortunately led to almost being late to the scheduled Shinkansen you all had previously booked, the only option was to quickly run back to the luggage storage, and up the train station just in time before the train had to leave.

Everyone did their best to keep their heavy breathing in check, trying not to come off as rude to other passengers as well as saving yourselves from the embarrassment of unsolicited stares. You relaxed on the azure seat beneath, situated between the window and Kita—who sat in between you and Atsumu while the other two were on the next row over.

Your gaze turned to the large window beside you, overlooking the opposing platform as the engine of the Shinkansen quietly whirred, signalling the impending departure. Due to the non-rush hour at the quiet time of 1:57 PM, it wasn’t packed at all, only a few commuters coming in and out of the station to get on with their day-to-day routine. As the Shinkansen slowly advanced to full speed, the outside view quickly turned into a mix of blurred hues; tall buildings decorating Central Tokyo gradually turned into greenery and suburban areas.

The afternoon sun peeked from the winter ivory clouds, seeping into the window to cast a radiant, warm glow upon the three of you. A subtle reflection of Atsumu’s peaceful profile projected on the glassy window, enabling you to carefully trace each and every detail of his handsome features—the slope of his nose, flaxen strands framing his face, and those rosy pink lips you’ve always longed to touch with your own.

Tucking your chin atop a palm, you shamelessly stared at your friend’s reflection through the window—you watched as his honeyed eyes focused on the scenery before him, angling his head your way to get a good look of the view. Atsumu’s lips ever so slightly pursed with pure fascination, his Adam's apple bobbing with awe, you presumed with the speed of the Shinkansen.

Oh, how wrong you were.

“Staring a little hard, aren’t we?” You were met with Kita’s warm gaze as you whipped your head around, albeit, rather quickly as if caught doing something you shouldn’t be. His stare held a hint of mischief—something that rarely ever occurred which caused your cheeks to shamelessly heat up. The man wasn’t even fully teasing you or anything—not that he normally did so—but it roused quite a reaction from you: fidgeting at the hem of your jacket, gaze avoiding Kita’s expectant ones, the slight part of your lips, not to mention the small stutter your heart did but you weren’t going to let him know. Absolutely not.

On the other hand, Atsumu stared out the same window, albeit, not directly at the view outside but rather at the reflection of your side profile on the glassy panel as you animatedly explained yourself to Kita. He couldn’t hear what the two of you were talking about as he resorted to using wireless earbuds a few moments ago, blocking out the white noise.

Atsumu let out a small chuckle—one that was drowned by the hum of the Shinkansen—as he admired you from the window, a subtle smile involuntarily forming at the look of your flustered state. How adorable. Naturally, his eyes drifted down to your plush lips as it moved with every spoken word; Atsumu could only fantasise the feeling of it against his own. The blonde swiped his tongue across his bottom lip before letting out a small huff, and closing his eyes shut—stubbornly depriving himself of your beauty.

More than a few times in the past, Atsumu has caught himself shamelessly wandering along the borders of ‘friends’ and ‘lovers’, brazenly walking along the fine line that split the two territories—as a matter of fact, in his eyes, the line was so damn thin that it almost appeared blurry. Dangerously blurry. But Atsumu was a thrill seeker, and would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to venture out into the uncharted territory called ‘lovers’.

For as long as he could remember, Atsumu has been patiently sitting by this uncharted territory—endlessly waiting for the day where he’d finally be able to cross that line without any hesitation in his bones. It was delusional of him, really, because at the very back of his mind—carefully tucked and hidden—Atsumu knew he probably didn’t stand a chance. That one day, he’d helplessly watch another man effortlessly cross the line.

He could only hope that was him.

Fortunately, the rest of the train ride was peaceful until Mount Fuji came into view from the distance; the stratovolcano proudly stood in all its icy glory, looking over Shizuoka and Yamanashi—its snow-capped tip slightly peeking from a blanket of clouds. The five of you didn’t hesitate to pull out your phones to start taking photos of the famed mountain, all amazed by its conical form.

After a few more clicks of the symbolic Fujisan, with selfies here and there, the train finally arrived in Shizuoka Station—greeted by the city’s skyline surrounded by impressive sights of nature. Hauling your respective mini luggages, and shopping bags from Tokyo, the five of you, surprisingly, made it to the hotel—located in the heart of Shizuoka—only a stone’s throw from the train station.

Greeted with a homey view, the hotel’s vast foyer was warmly lit, decorated with artificial plants here and there along with lots of comfortable spaces to sit on. Faint jazz music filled the rather deserted place, footsteps along its marbled ivory floors echoing loudly. Kita, and Osamu made their way to the counter—the latter only trailing behind to inquire about amenities—whereas Suna beelined for the nearest toilet, leaving you and Atsumu on luggage duty.

Great.

The blonde unceremoniously plopped down next to you, cream-coloured couch groaning beneath his weight as he yawned, pairing it with a full body stretch. How cute. It reminded you of a cat stretching right after waking up, face scrunched and all. Atsumu sat way too close for your liking, the heat of his right side spilling onto your left—it wasn’t even a comfortable kind of warmth, no, it mirrored the intensity of a hot, sunny day. Despite the lack of skin contact, his touch lit your body with a searing blaze. You scratched at your neck, the familiar prickling sensation coming back for the nth time.

It was awfully quiet, the crisp winter air turning thick, and awkward as each slow second passed. All of a sudden, the wooden coffee table before you looked rather interesting, eyes tracing its natural surface pattern. It didn’t look this cool a few seconds ago. The faint jazz music still played from the hotel speakers, a mocking symbol of the lack of conversation between you and Atsumu.

The latter awkwardly cleared his throat, hand coming up to rub at his nape—a nervous habit he’s picked up, and you knew that too. He turned his mind upside down, and inside out to think of anything just to clear the somewhat awkward air between the two of you but his thoughts fell short. For the first time in a while, Atsumu was rendered speechless. When did it get like this?

“We should do a bike tour. I saw an ad for one outside just before we came in.” Suna strode over to the two of you, hands snug inside his pockets. “I think it's like a 3-hour tour, though.” He muttered before pulling his phone out, mindlessly scrolling on it.

“Won’t it be snowy?” Osamu replied from behind with Kita trailing closely, room keys and a pamphlet in hand. “Shizuoka has very little snowfall. I think we’ll be fine.” The ivory-haired male interjected, earning a hum from Suna. Before the group could further discuss today’s plans, you spoke up, “I can’t even ride a bike.”

“Ditto.” Atsumu groaned. “Well. Technically, I can. Jus’ a bad experience from childhood. Haven’t gotten on one since then and not about ta start now.” The male beside you shrugged whereas his twin chuckled at the recollection. Must’ve been quite a memory for the two, you presumed.

You shook your head, reassuring the group, “Don’t mind me. I can rest up a bit while you all go out.” It wasn’t much of a big deal, anyway. Plus, a good 3-hour nap sounded like absolute heaven to you right now, especially after waking up early this morning. It was only the first day of the trip, and there were more planned activities ahead with the group so you didn’t mind.

The door to the hotel room opened up to a cosy, expansive suite inspired by traditional tearoom elements in Japanese-style—gasping at the intricate vases and traditional scrolls that decorated the room. The suite included two Tatami rooms—excluding the small kitchen, and living room—adorned with cosy futons. Overlooking the vast city of Shizuoka, it gave a sense of luxury amongst the homey vibes of the room.

A few shuffling here, and there, the group agreed to part ways for a bit, and reconvene for dinner—Suna, Kita, and Osamu headed for the bike tour whereas you and Atsumu stayed behind for a much needed peaceful rest. If peaceful was even the word to describe it.

“We’ll see ya at dinner. Have fun.” Osamu shot his brother a look, one that made you stop in your tracks. A subtle smirk was plastered all over the former’s face which looked just like the usual smile Atsumu gave, it didn’t help how Osamu looked exactly like him. What the hell?

A resounding thud reverberated throughout the walls as the door shut behind the silver-haired male. There was a slight pause, a heartbeat of silence before Atsumu turned to you, hands on his hips, mirroring the smirk his brother gave just a few seconds ago. You gulped, meeting his honeyed gaze.

“Looks like it’s just me and ya with three hours ta spare, huh?”

Three hours with Miya Atsumu. Alone. How convenient.

“Anyone notice the weird tension between those two or is it just me?” Suna shuddered, rubbing his gloved hands together in hopes for extra warmth. Shizuoka wasn’t graced by deep snowfall but the afternoon temperatures still dipped low enough to have locals dressing thick enough to brave the winter breeze.

The brunette recounted the moment in the hotel lobby where he found the two of you situated side-by-side on the couch, looking rather on edge—the slight bounce of Atsumu’s leg, and the way you nibbled on your bottom lip. 

Osamu snickered, cheeks blanketed with a tinge of pink from the iciness of the city,

“Maybe yer jus’ imaginin’ things.”

Clearly it was a sarcastic remark, his tone dripped with irony that it—almost—eerily sounded like Atsumu. For a brief moment, Suna thought so too, and did a quick, discreet glance at his friend just to make sure it was the correct twin. Being a nonchalant character, Suna had developed a habit of looking up from his phone whenever one of the Miya twins spoke just to make sure he wasn’t conversing with the wrong one—the twins loved to play that prank.

“Best not ta interfere whatever is goin’ on between ‘em. They’ll sort it out like mature adults.” Kita spoke up, tucking his hands inside his pocket. Curious as he was at the odd situation between the both of you, he didn’t want to meddle—it was something you and Atsumu had to deal with, alone.

Mature adults, huh.

Two options. Your mind came up with two options to choose from, albeit, not really sensible: 1. Stay holed up in your own room for the whole three hours, and steer absolutely clear from Miya Atsumu, and that weird look on his stupidly handsome face. 2. Or leave the shared suite to explore the heart of Shizuoka on your own, leaving him all alone.

But, there was a secret, third option: Face this situation like a mature adult, and act like civilised people for goodness sake.

Your mind scolded you—or was that your heart?

“. . Yeah, guess so.” You awkwardly cleared your throat, tugging at the ends of the fluffy cerulean fabric wrapped around your neck. The room was way too quiet, each mocking tick of the ivory wall clock filling the growing void between you and Atsumu.

“So. .” “Hm . . ?”

The blonde shifted his weight from one leg to the other, caramel gaze never leaving your own. “What do ya feel like doin’?” He continued, a hint of unsureness in his tone. Atsumu was rarely unsure but he didn’t know when he had started questioning every single action he did when it came to conversing with you—it almost felt like the blonde was walking on eggshells, not because he was afraid of your reaction but the fact that in his mind, he seemed like he was bothering you even if he knew he wasn’t.

It’s scary to think how one’s mind worked absolute wonders to not only self sabotage but also to re-think one’s actions, especially if it involved love.

The day Miya Atsumu realised his feelings transitioned into something deeper—unlike you—he welcomed it with open arms, and no regrets; as if he was able to foresee what the future held, the blonde knew this would eventually happen, and he accepted it in a heartbeat despite being fully aware of the fact that his feelings may not be reciprocated.

It was a rather quick realisation.

Naturally, whenever Atsumu’s admirers approached after another tough match to congratulate him, he’d bask in their endless strings of praises, effectively inflating his ego, and pride as a volleyball player. It became second nature to him at this point—hands on hips, honeyed eyes closed, head nodding along to every single word thrown his way.

But after a particular game back in third-year highschool, it didn’t feel the same anymore. Atsumu’s ego, and pride didn’t blossom inside his chest, no sense of accomplishment engulfed his body despite the high praises—inside one ear, and out the other. He didn’t pay attention nor relished it for even a second because all he needed after a tiring game was your validation, and praise.

Atsumu didn’t just need it, he yearned for it, and didn’t dare question what his heart wanted. Instead, he came into terms with the enclosed beast inside his ribcage, the feeling of uncertainty looming behind his back like a fox waiting to pounce.

“Mhm. Not too sure, you?” You replied, awkwardly stretching your arms above your head, feigning calmness. In reality, your heart pounded like crazy, praying it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear it.

For a split second, Atsumu thought keeping to yourselves might be the best option for now but the idea dissipated as quickly as it formed—he wasn’t about to chicken out. At the end of the day, your friendship came way before he developed these stupid feelings for you. So he thought of a different idea, 

“How ‘bout we explore a bit? Y’ down for that?” Atsumu really hoped that you’d say yes to him—in every sense of the word—because it’s been quite a while since the two of you spent alone time together, and he missed the good old days where feelings didn’t complicate the situation. Not to mention your strange actions as of late, albeit subtle, Atsumu was one to always notice a slight shift in a person’s behaviour—especially when directed towards him.

Oh, he’s noticed the way you slightly held back from conversing or even standing next to him—the hesitancy laced in every action, each a careful, calculated move as if navigating through a field of mines. It raised concern in Atsumu’s mind; what if you somehow found out he loves you more than a friend, and distance was your humble way of showing him you didn’t feel the same?

He hoped that wasn’t the case. Atsumu held hope that maybe you liked him back too, and it was your way of navigating through those feelings. Fingers crossed.

“Sure. I don’t feel like staying holed in here, anyway.” Liar. That was the first idea you thought of.

Atsumu could almost jump for joy when you agreed but instead, he shot you a warm smile, deliberately ignoring the way his heartbeat picked up as soon as you nodded; he could already imagine the two of you falling into a step along the chilly streets of Shizuoka as the sun slowly dipped into the horizon—hues of oranges, and pinks decorating the winter sky.

Okay, maybe, the first thing you thought of was to help your poor heart, and avoid Atsumu until dinner but that didn’t mean you were immune to him—who were you to turn down the opportunity of getting some alone time with him? As scary as it sounded, you found yourself looking forward to it.

Engulfed by the cold afternoon breeze, you shuddered, burying the bottom half of your face beneath the azure scarf wrapped around your neck as you fell into a step with Atsumu, the hotel’s automatic glass doors closing behind the two of you. The latter instinctively moved closer at your response to the cold—clothed arm brushing against your own.

You didn’t say anything nor moved away, instead, you let him come closer despite the raging butterflies in your stomach, and a thundering heartbeat. If anything, the small gesture put Atsumu’s heart at ease.

Today’s destination for the next few hours was Sumpu Castle Park—after some thoughtful decision with Atsumu—paired with a little pitstop to a local convenience for some much needed sweet treat. Despite the dropping temperatures of the late afternoon, the blonde next to you had made his ice cream cravings known. Truthfully, he’s so lovesick that even walking next to you got his body burning with unspeakable emotions, thus the need for a cold treat.

After returning a polite greeting to the clerk, Atsumu beelined for the self-service ice cream, a hint of urgency laced in every step, determination engraved in his caramel eyes. It made you chuckle a bit, clearly oblivious to the reason.

“You should put more.” You spoke, watching the way the vanilla soft serve swirled onto the paper cup Atsumu held, the other hand carefully pulling onto the lever. The latter looked over his shoulder, honeyed eyes tinged with slight tease as he found your gaze, “It’s priced by weight, ya know. Why? Ya wanna share this with me?” A slight smirk painted his handsome face, and boy was that enough to render you speechless.

Just the thought of sharing an ice cream with Atsumu made you all warm inside. There may or may not have been an imaginary scene in your mind where the blonde happily gives you a scoop from his own spoon—god, you felt dizzy. It took all your willpower to keep the corners of your lips in check, making sure they didn’t curl up at his words.

“No, I meant. .” You trailed off, voice dissipating into the thin winter air, wracking one’s brain to find any appropriate sentence that came into mind—one that didn’t peek into the untouched emotions you had for Atsumu.

The blonde let out a velvety laugh, brows shooting up in amusement at your flustered form. Adorable as always. He didn’t say anything else, instead, he turned back around to decorate the treat in his hand with toppings, lightly humming to the faint music of the convenience store. On the other hand, you stood rooted on the spot—mentally facepalming, unsure as to what even brought about the sentence earlier.

With the awkward situation forgotten, you and Atsumu were en route to Sumpu Castle Park—of course, he didn’t live it down for the first few minutes, asking if you wanted some ice cream with that teasing look on his face, “Sure ya don’t want any? Seemed like ya were really eyein’ it back at the store.” You playfully rolled your eyes in response, gaze lingering a little too long on the spoon he held.

As tempting as it sounded, you held yourself back.

The two of you walked along the streets of Shizuoka in silence, occasional hums from the blonde next to you as he relished the saccharine soft serve melting on his tongue. The only difference now was it wasn’t as awkward as your mind thought it would be—the silence was comfortable. Blending into the quotidian noises of the city as each step neared the destination; the low hum of cars passing by, distant conversations of the locals, birds singing atop leafless trees—you let it comfortably engulf your senses.

It was silly to think how love blinded you in ways you couldn’t comprehend, most importantly, forgetting the fact that Atsumu was still your close friend. The friend who didn’t hesitate to console you after your first bad grade in university, the friend who listened to all your rants, the friend who accompanied you in the library whenever he had time.

Love had twisted your perception so much to the point where you were almost running away from Atsumu, ignoring the fact that he’s still your friend, after all. It was silly, really, and this little moment between the two of you made you realise how foolishly blind you’ve been acting.

But then again, it was a double-edged sword. If you let yourself get too comfortable with Atsumu, you’d possibly end up with a broken heart. On the other hand, if you distanced yourself too much, it’d heavily strain the friendship.

Which risk you were willing to take was something you’ve been pondering.

Sounds of Atsumu’s laughter filled your ears, it pulled you out of trance, the city’s noises muted, as if left far, far behind.

“Samu and I didn’t even go ahead with the plan but we got a heck of a scoldin’ from Kita!” You looked to the side, watching as the blonde tipped his head back to let out a hearty laugh, reminiscing the old highschool days. The low afternoon sun casted a golden shadow on his side profile, illuminating his caramel eyes, and flaxen strands.

The citrine glow gently traced Atsumu’s features—from his thick brows, all the way down to his rosy lips, and everything in between. For a brief moment, you envied the winter sun for brazenly kissing every bit of his face before you ever could. 

You subtly shook your head, snapping out of it before your gaze fell on the corner of his mouth, a smudge of ice cream lightly coating it.

“You have a bit of ice cream here.”

Atsumu raised his brows, eyeing you point at the corner of your mouth, a hint of amusement in your gaze. The former darted out his tongue, lightly licking at the spot in hopes to wipe it away. You watched for a few seconds as he struggled to reach the spot, a small smile forming on your lips—Atsumu looked absolutely silly but you’d have to admit, he was still devastatingly handsome.

Sighing, you grabbed the serviette—that he got from the convenience store—tucked between his fingers, and angled his face right before your own, mere inches apart. Both hands absentmindedly cupped Atsumu’s jaw, gaze fixated on his mouth as you carefully wiped the ice cream off his face.

The blonde froze, his jaw taut beneath your hands. You were close, too damn close that you took up his field of view—not that he was complaining. It felt like time slowed down, and he could only hear his short breaths, and thumping heart; Atsumu watched your gaze beneath your lashes, the way your lips pursed in concentration.

As you pulled away, suddenly everything came back to him—the soft murmurs of Shizuoka, the wintry breeze, the cup in his hand. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, a puff of ivory mist clouding his view for a second as he composed himself—or at least tried to. Your searing touch lingered on Atsumu, he could almost blindly trace an outline of your hands from where they were a few seconds ago.

A clear of his throat sliced through the growing silence before he muttered a small ‘thanks’. You could only nod in response, not trusting your voice.

The rest of the walk turned a bit awkward but thankfully not for long as the castle grounds came into view, earning gasps of awe from the both of you—the ice cream incident long forgotten, and Atsumu’s finished cup thrown in the bin. The historic ivory walls, and coal-black Kawara tiles was definitely a sight to see—greeted with a wooden bridge situated atop still waters that led to the Higashi Gomon Gate.

After paying for the admission fee, you and Atsumu didn’t hesitate to explore the castle grounds—you two were greeted with snippets of Shizuoka’s great history; the statue of the honoured retired shogun, replicas of his armour, and clips & information about the castle’s materials.

Soon, you found yourselves outside, surrounded in vast winter greeneries, a lake situated in the middle of it all. Despite being in the middle of winter, Momijiyama garden was unique for its seasonal displays—endless trees filled with hues of pinks, and reds from camellias decorated the traditional garden.

Atsumu glanced sideways at you, eyes sparkling with awe as you scanned the entirety of the serene place. Your expressions were infectious, a small smile forming on his face as he stared at you longer.

“D’ya want a picture? I don’t mind takin’ some. ‘M no Suna but I’ll try m’best.” The blonde offered, jutting his arms out for your phone.

You hesitated for a bit before giving him the device. Sure, there were no problems when it came to posing for pictures, it was the fact that Atsumu was the one taking them. The latter positioned himself to get the best possible view of the garden—all of a sudden, you didn’t know how to smile naturally; everything felt stiff, and awkward.

He let out a hearty laugh, honeyed eyes glued to your miniature form on the screen. You looked awkward as hell but Atsumu found it absolutely adorable.

“W-what? Why are you laughing?” You let out a huff before turning away, trying to cover yourself from any more photos, clearly flustered at his sudden reaction.

“Ah, hey, don’t go hidin’ yer face now! I was jus’ tryna make you smile.” Atsumu waved a dismissive hand, a big smile plastered on his handsome face as he kept taking photos.

You shook your head and posed accordingly, ignoring the fact that your heart hammered on your chest, and the way Atsumu’s smile widened in your cooperation—caramel eyes sparkling with adoration.

After a few more clicks, a much needed rest was due. The two of you sat on a bench near the lake—Atsumu scanned the view before him while you mindlessly scrolled on your phone, checking the photos taken mere minutes ago. Most of the photos were of you looking away, clearly camera shy, and stiff but ones that caught your eye were pictures of you smiling at the camera—at Atsumu.

The expressions on your face were genuine, and relaxed. You took a mental note to post those ones later.

The time spent with Atsumu enlightened your heart a bit, it made you realise that he was still your friend despite the way your chest tightened around him—that it was unfair for him to be cluelessly met with distance from your end. After all, you weren’t teenagers anymore.

Something had been weighing heavily in the back of Atsumu’s mind, and he didn’t know how to bring it about. The blonde stared at the mixed hues of green before him, as if looking to the trees would somehow tell him how to start the conversation.

Ah, fuck it. “So, how’s it goin’ with that special someone?”

Looking up from your phone, you furrowed your brows, wracking your brain for context—ah, right. One drunken night, after a particularly dreadful exam, you’d accidentally told Atsumu about having feelings for a certain someone. You thanked the heavens that you didn’t start name-dropping but it got the latter way too curious fir your liking—little did he know, that was about him.

“Hm? Ah, you know . . Same old same old.” Your heart raced, wishing he didn’t pry any further. Atsumu noticed the way you fiddled with your fingers, so he remained silent, an invitation to either let the topic drop or carry it on at your will.

“I do have this crazy idea, though . .” A whisper, enough for Atsumu to hear. He nodded, all ears, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. “I’ll probably confess to him with rejection in mind. I know he doesn’t have feelings . . Plus, I’m doing myself a favour so I can finally move on.” You let out a puff of ivory mist, heart weighing heavy at the thought of rejection.

Rejection from the very man who sat next to you.

Atsumu slowly nodded, trying his best to comprehend your thoughts. He’s never heard of that before—confessing just to move on from one’s feelings. Usually, when one confessed, they had a relationship in mind. He opened his mouth, not really knowing why or how this question came to be,

“Hypothetically, what if they say they like ya back?” Atsumu angled his torso towards you, a strange glint in his honeyed eyes as he met your gaze—was it desperation? Curiosity? You’d never know.

“Mhm. I don’t know. I don’t even think I’m ready for a relationship.” “So . . yer jus’ gonna confess for the sake of movin’ on? Even if he likes ya back?”

You nod.

What a liar. 

It was far more complicated, really. Sure, it would’ve been easy to have feelings if it was some random stranger from a lecture but this was Miya Atsumu you were talking about—a close friend you’ve grown to love platonically, and romantically. Just the mere fact of confessing could strain the friendship, so you had to tread carefully.

Even if it meant selling yourself short.

The possibility of having your feelings reciprocated weren’t exactly zero to none but you also didn’t know if getting into a relationship with Atsumu was something you should be doing. In all honesty, you were scared shitless.

Atsumu nodded once again. He took a mental note of your words, not knowing what to make of it.

The walk to the agreed restaurant was silent—the sun fully dipped into the horizon, leaving hues of blues, and pinks in the winter sky of Shizuoka City. Warm lights slowly filled the darkening streets as locals began heading home, some opting to eat dinner out.

Atsumu seemed to be eerily quiet, and in deep thought for the duration of the walk. You, on the other hand, were busy conversing with Suna on the phone—who had been asking your whereabouts. You chalked it up to tiredness since you all had an early morning, and explored nonstop.

“An’ here I thought ya both got lost on the way.” Osamu waved the two of you over. The three of them stood just outside the restaurant, patiently waiting in the cold. “Ya could’ve jus’ went inside ya know.” Atsumu snickered.

The five of you were ushered to your booth, conversations of today filled your ears as Osamu filled his brother in about the bike tour with occasional photos shown by Suna.

Atsumu was the first to slide into the booth, meeting your gaze for a brief moment. You saw that as an invitation to sit next to him but as you were mere seconds from doing so, he spoke up, patting the wooden bench beneath—ignoring the way you looked at him.

“Suna, come sit ‘ere. I wanna see more of yer photos from the tour.”

Oh.

Sliding next to Kita on the opposite bench—followed by Osamu—you awkwardly cleared your throat, a very weird feeling settling deep in your chest after the odd encounter.

Surely it was nothing—you hoped it was nothing but somehow, you didn’t believe yourself.

Engulfed by the warmth of the restaurant’s heater the group patiently waited for dinner to be served. Low murmurs of fellow customers, the rusty bell at the door sounding with every new person coming in, and the sounds of utensils surrounded you.

Atsumu, and Suna were engrossed in a conversation about the bike tour earlier whereas the other side of the booth—Kita, You, and Osamu kept to yourselves, either by mindlessly reading the menu or scrolling on your phones, tiredness taking over your bodies.

Placing your phone face-down on the wooden table beneath, you let out a small sigh before rubbing at your eyes, gaining one’s silvery gaze.

The little interaction with Atsumu earlier could pass off as nothing but your mind worked in a different way—it worked hard to make every day a little inconvenient for you, whether you liked it or not.

Maybe, he just didn’t want to sit next to you anymore because the two of you spent the last three hours stuck together. A totally valid reason but why was it eating you away? You couldn’t help but feel a sense of oddness to it.

Unaware of your natural habit to stare at Atsumu through your lashes, you carefully watched his face—the way his expressions changed to mirror the topic at hand, the scrunch of his nose, the twitch of the corners of his lips, the shallow dimple on his right cheek whenever he smiled, the flaxen strands that kissed his forehead accentuating his face

All of it was seared in your mind. Funny how he was sitting next to Suna yet it was as if he faded along with everyone else—a distant whitenoise long forgotten.

God, you could look at him all day.

A subtle, involuntary smile formed upon your lips, eyes gleaming beneath the warm lighting of the restaurant as if there were heart-shaped sparkles in them.

As if by instinct, you snapped out of the trance, a burning gaze boring into the side of your face. Looking over to the right, you were met with Osamu’s steely gaze, his brows slightly furrowed—his stare weighed heavy with questions, ones that you probably didn’t want to answer.

Amusement was written all over his face as he narrowed his silvery eyes at you, his pupils scanned your panicked face—the way your brows rose, eyes widened, and lips parted. The corners of Osamu’s lips twitched with smugness. He had a knowing look on his face, one that you absolutely didn’t like; each silent second passed with your thrumming heart, feeling small under the twin’s judging gaze. Osamu wasn’t born yesterday, he knew exactly what your expression conveyed, an expression that he’s seen countless of times whether it was directed to him or his twin brother.

“You need something?” You asked, feigning nonchalance.

God, it was painfully obvious that you were trying your best to act indifferent, even the tone of your voice betrayed you—it was airy and awkward. The younger twin stared at you for another heart beat before shaking his head, letting out a light chuckle.

Osamu dropped it at that as he returned to the device in his hand for entertainment, leaving you sitting there in total confusion. Though, the feeling dissipated as quickly as it settled as your mind slowly pieced the situation together.

Oh my goodness. He totally caught you staring at Atsumu with heart eyes.

You sat there, between Kita and Osamu as embarrassment pierced through your skin, and into your bones—an unsettling feeling that was all kinds of wrong. Suddenly, the warm atmosphere of the restaurant uncomfortably prickled at your clothed skin, hands eager to claw at its itchiness as the air turned heavy.

The thought of telling someone about your feelings for Atsumu was already a complete nightmare, and you could only imagine how much of a disaster it would be if his twin knew. Not only would Osamu probably tell him but would most likely tell the other guys as well—something called bro code? 

You were always aware of the fact that the four were closer to each other, and shared ‘guy secrets’ with one another but you weren’t one to complain. Sometimes, they couldn’t understand your gossips & rants, and vice versa; after all, their thought process worked very differently from yours.

Endless thoughts raced through your mind as you stared at the wooden table in front, the white noise slowly fading into nothingness as each chaotic thought filled the corners of your head. 

He absolutely figured me out, right? Now he knows I have feelings for Atsumu, and then he’ll probably tell him and Atsumu will probably know, and then—

“Thank you for the meal!”

The loud exclamation of your friends sliced through your train of thought, not even realising that the meals ordered had already been set atop the wooden table. With the unpleasant thoughts tucked neatly at the back of your mind for later, you dug into the hot meal before you.

The whole table remained quiet, except for sounds of chewing, and slurping as everyone filled their stomachs with food. It was understandable, everyone had a long, tiring day of moving from one city to another—not to mention the duration of each trip.

You quickly glanced over at Atsumu who was busy chowing down his own noodles, forehead creased with concentration as he chewed, cheeks bulging with food.

Oh, the sight alone did numbers to your heart. If only you could pull out your phone, and snap a photo of his silly face right then, and there.

“Don’t forget ta sleep early tonight. We’ve our snowboarding first thing in the mornin’.” Kita pointedly looked at the twins who only bowed their head in response, eyes glued to their own food as if it was the most interesting thing they’ve seen all day.

The decision to try out snowboarding was something out of the blue, despite all five of you having no snowboarding experience. You all decided that doing a new activity during this trip would be fun since everyone was on the same boat—you were already looking forward to tomorrow which would no doubt be full of falling, and slipping down the snowy slopes.

As the five of you fell into a mellow conversation, the pink winter skies of Shizuoka City slowly turned darker, and darker until lone stars decorated the night sky. The streets were now fully illuminated by warm hues of oranges, and yellows, devoid of any people.

The walk back to the hotel sobered you up a bit from the warmness of the restaurant, the frigid night air engulfing your body the minute you walked out the doors.

The twins fell into a step ahead of the group, bickering about who gets to shower first, which unsurprisingly turned into a racing contest where the winner would be graced with being the first one to hit the warm waters.

“Ugh, I don’t get how they still have so much energy.” Suna groaned, tucking the lower half of his face beneath the fuzzy scarf wrapped around his neck. You chuckled in response, looking up from your phone to gaze at the twins as they ran ahead into the night, reduced into nothing but silhouettes.

The brunette leaned closer to you, staring at the device in your hand, “Oh, the place looks cool. Atsumu was telling me about it.” He hummed, watching you scroll across each photo that Atsumu took earlier. Before you could reply to agree, Suna opened his mouth once again, and pointed a gloved digit to your screen,

“Woah, you look really happy on that one.” He chuckled.

Out of curiosity, Kita also leaned in to get a good look of the picture Suna was talking about—you were facing the camera, background showing the stunning hues of Momijiyama garden; a bright smile plastered across your face.

“Atsumu took that picture?”

You hummed, earning a slow nod from the older male, as if hinting something. God, Kita always looked like he knew something and nothing at the same, and it drove you up the wall. Ever since this morning, he had been acting a little off, albeit subtle, you caught on. You were starting to think that maybe you weren’t so secret about your feelings for Atsumu after all.

You gave yourself a few moments to really take in that particular photo—it tugged at your heartstrings.

Did you really look that happy in Atsumu’s presence?

A few minutes later, the three of you were greeted with a red-faced Atsumu who unceremoniously lay on the couch, legs spread wide open, and arms atop his stomach. The faint sound of running water from one of the rooms could also be heard, most likely Osamu taking a warm shower.

“You lost the race?” Suna snickered, plopping himself on the floor, in front of the couch. The blonde, grunted in response—he acted such a sore loser whenever his twin beat him in something.

Clearly old habits die hard.

You remembered each time Osamu came out as the victor every time the twins challenged one another back in highschool. Atsumu would have the biggest frown on his face, thick brows tightly knitted together, and to top it off, a sour mood that none could handle except his other half.

The first time you witnessed it with your own eyes, you thought of how childish his behaviour was. Though, that quickly grew into something you loved about him—Atsumu’s own little charm; the way his bottom lip ever so slightly jutted out into a pout, velvety voice coming out in whines.

Adorable would be an understatement.

Who knew that the behaviour you used to find annoying could turn into the one you loved the most about him?

“You can use the shower in my room. . I don’t mind waiting.” You spoke up, sitting on the wooden dining chair, feigning nonchalance. For the first time that night, Atsumu’s honeyed gaze met your own.

You didn’t miss the way his brows subtly rose, and the tinge of pink on his ears. Oh god, Atsumu didn’t know why his mind wandered all the way to . . shameful thoughts—you weren’t even suggesting anything, just plainly telling him that the shower in your room was available. So why did he just picture the two of you—

The blonde squirmed atop the sofa, shaking his head, “‘S okay. I don’ mind waitin’ for ‘Samu.” He shrugged, completely avoiding your eye gaze by pulling out his device.

Nodding at his reply, you retired to your own room to take a shower and prepare for the night ahead. A soft thud filled the room as you closed the shōji behind you, blocking out Atsumu’s voice as he conversed with Suna, and Kita. The room faintly smelled of grass, and straw, a scent of nostalgia embracing you like warm rays on a sunny morning.

You weren’t going to lie, it felt a little lonely to occupy the room all to yourself knowing that the four were going to be sleeping side by side on their respective futons. Nonetheless, this was your safe haven for the next few days—a space where you could unmask the hidden feelings that lay deep beneath, and be alone with your thoughts.

To say that hiding your feelings for Atsumu didn’t affect you at all would be a sweet, sweet lie—keeping one’s emotions at bay around him almost felt like a sport, and you weren’t winning at all.

After taking a much needed warm shower to clear your mind, and rinse away the unwanted feelings of today, you tucked yourself beneath the ivory kakebuton, and settled for the night—the mellowed hum of Shizuoka City lulling you to sleep.

The dream you had was weird—it was about Atsumu; everything was hazy, and incoherent, as if a distant memory neatly tucked in the back of your mind but you knew one thing, it felt like home. One minute the two of you were laughing about something—head tossed back, and face angled to the skies above, the next minute you were confessing to him.

Unfortunately, you never got Atsumu’s answer as you were gently awoken by Kita who had probably been whispering your name for a good minute now.

As you came to, he leaned back, and sat on his haunches. Warm light seeped from the parted shōji, illuminating the side of his face. Hushed conversations from the living room filled your ears, soft footsteps padding to, and fro around the suite.

“We’ll wait for ya t’ get ready, ‘n then we’ll all grab breakfast downstairs.” He gave your drowsy state one last look before sliding the shōji behind him, leaving you alone—darkness occupying your room once again.

You were greeted with your friends scattered around the living room; the twins were busy having a push-up contest near the hallway to the door, Suna was on his phone sprawled on the couch, angling the device towards the twins—without a doubt, taking a video of them—whereas Kita leaned on the wall, also occupied with his phone.

Everyone was clad in much warmer clothes than yesterday due to the activity ahead but you all ditched the trench coats, and opted for waterproof puffer jackets. You noticed the raven beanie Atsumu donned, bits of flaxen strands peeking from beneath the knitted accessory.

Your heart may or may not have skipped a beat at his boyish appearance.

After a warm, hearty complimentary breakfast, the five of you were enroute to the ski area after briefly waiting for the shuttle. It was the early hours of 6 AM—Shizuoka was still asleep with the dark sky watching over the city. Occasional sounds of early birds humming, and crickets chirping engulfed you along with the frigid breeze.

It was a calm, still morning.

Though, you felt weird inside—it was like the feeling of the calm before the storm. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was about but it involved a certain blonde twin.

You had your suspicions during breakfast back at the hotel—albeit, not a concrete conclusion—where Atsumu was quieter than usual. He was surprisingly reserved, and meek, keeping to himself as the group around him conversed about anything, and everything; he wore a weird expression, as if he was trying his best to hide the true emotions that lay beneath.

Normally, no matter the time, Atsumu never ran out of words to say—even when he had to attend the dreadful 8 AM classes back in first year university. Though, you just chalked it up to tiredness or maybe he didn’t sleep well.

Not that you were worried or anything.

As the engine of the bus hummed along the dim winter streets, you looked outside the foggy window on your right, the views of the sleeping city slowly faded into icy, deserted roads—the ivory blankets of snow rested atop mountain peaks in the distance gave a picturesque view.

The raven-haired stranger who sat beside you didn’t hesitate to pull his phone out, a hushed question coming out of his lips. Apparently, he wanted to take a picture of the mountains outside but doing so would require him to squeeze in a bit closer to you. Upon nodding, he gave you a smile before leaning over to take a couple of photos. To give the man ample distance, you pressed your back into the plush backrest, eyes wandering over to Atsumu who already had his honeyed gaze on you.

You sucked in a breath. He quickly looked away.

The blonde sat on the same row after the aisle—next to Kita—whereas Suna, and Osamu sat on the row behind, leaving an empty seat next to you; hence, the handsome raven-haired man. You thought he looked like a professional with the iridescent snowboarding goggles in his hand when he had politely asked if he could sit next to you.

Nonetheless, the rest of the ride went smoothly as the bus carefully ascended further up the snowy mountain.

The endless views of ivory, crystalline snow glimmering beneath the first rays of the peeking sun welcomed the five of you—everywhere was covered in pristine white, blanketed with a thin fog that completed the prospect. The air was crisp, and a white mist formed with every word spoken, and breath taken.

You all basked in the serene landscape for a moment, taking in the milky slopes before heading into the ski resort to grab rented gear, and start today’s snowboarding lesson.

Sitting on one of the benches, you struggled to fasten the black snowboard boots on your feet—it had several parts to it with a rather long string attached inside which you were absolutely clueless about. Kita seemed to easily get the hang of it—were you really surprised? No—and was now helping Suna, with the twins closely following along.

Before you could voice for help, a tall figure stopped right in front of you,

“Hey, did you need help with tha—Oh! It’s you, again from the bus. Did you need some help?”

You looked up at the owner of the voice—which also caught your friends’ attention—it belonged to the man from earlier, the one who sat next to you on the bus. 

He donned a red uniform gear, you noticed the word ‘Instructor’ written in white, bold letters right beneath the company logo; the iridescent goggles he held earlier were on his head, secured around a black helmet. Oh, so he worked here.

“Hey! Yes, please. ‘M not quite sure how to fasten it.” A humourless chuckle left your lips, cheeks slightly heating in embarrassment.

Was your cluelessness that obvious?

He nodded, kneeling down before you, and gently circled his gloved fingers around the hem of your snow pants, folding it upwards to your knee. “Your first time snowboarding?” He asked, briefly meeting your gaze before focusing on the task at hand.

You hummed in agreement, “My friends and I are headed for a beginner’s lesson.” You sat there in a silent awe as the ravenette skilfully fastened your boot, and onto the next one. There was nothing to be fascinated about, really, this was probably second nature to him.

“Yeah? Same here. Well, as an instructor, of course. Who knows, maybe I’ll be assigned to your group.” He gave you a warm smile, looking up from under his lashes—you didn’t miss the faint snort that came from where the twins sat, earning a quick glance from you,

Osamu was nowhere to be found, leaving you with a very obvious answer as to who the sound belonged to. Atsumu’s gaze briefly met your own, and you swore there was a subtle crease between his brows but it disappeared before you could even process it.

Shifting your attention back to the raven-haired man, you mirrored his smile, thanking him for his kind help. “Ah, don’t worry about it. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou, by the way.” Before you could say your name, he was already walking away, slipping into a conversation with a fellow staff.

Atsumu tried to be very normal, and nonchalant about it. About the way the rest of his friends shot teasing remarks for having some guy on his knees for you—literally, and maybe figuratively. Okay, so what? He worked there, that’s what he was supposed to do. What the hell is the big deal? He just fastened your snowboarding boots for you.

Nonetheless, it bothered Atsumu. Even just thinking about it planted a burning seed of jealousy within the pit of his stomach, it gave an uncomfortable, fiery feeling whenever he moved around. Something Atsumu did not want to get familiar with.

As if the universe beyond the skies were against him, it turns out Kuroo was the assigned snowboard instructor for the group. Atsumu noticed the smile you donned at that information, it would’ve had his knees buckling if it wasn’t aimed towards the stupidly tall, raven-haired instructor.

A whole day to spend with the man Atsumu already despised, how great. Not to mention how Kuroo was a snowboarding expert while Atsumu could already see himself falling, and tumbling down the slopes—god, he’s already at a disadvantage.

Whatever.

The beginner’s lesson with Kuroo started off fairly smoothly—he gave a thorough explanation of the snowboarding basics while being very attentive to each of you.

There were a couple of laughs here, and there as the group attempted to get used to balancing on the snowboard—90% of the time, your gloved hands were met with iciness from slipping, and falling. You were sure Suna had at least a few embarrassing shots of each of you, either face planted on the snow or in the midst of unceremoniously falling down.

Though, you weren’t really afraid to be off-balance since the snow beneath was soft, and inviting, despite its coldness.

As the lesson progressed further, you caught your gaze wandering over to Atsumu more often than not—you just couldn’t help yourself, not when a weird aura was emanating from him. The funny thing was, Atsumu seemed to be mirroring your actions because whenever your eyes shifted to him, his honeyed gaze would already be on you.

During the first hour of the lesson, your eyes met for a total of 12 times. Not a single word spoken, just the intimacy of eye contact. You were always the first one to break eye contact since it did more damage than good to your poor, poor heart. Though, his caramel eyes didn’t seem to tug at your heartstrings the way it did.

His stare mirrored his behaviour—empty, and distant.

It worried you. A lot. Atsumu was clearly acting this way to distance himself from you, without a doubt—he was indifferent towards Suna, and Kita, still the same old Miya Atsumu that everyone knew, and adored. So, why was he suddenly acting this way with you?

By the final hour of the lesson, your head was already filled with a million possible thoughts, and scenarios of why Atsumu was acting weirdly, and none of them were pretty. It got to the point where you couldn’t even hear Kuroo’s velvety voice anymore as it plagued your mind. 

Suddenly, it felt like you were the only one atop the mountain—all alone in the endless snowy fields where distant murmurs, and laughter were replaced with harsh, frigid winds. As if you had travelled inside your own mind—cold, harsh, and devoid of any happy things.

During the walk back to the building, you fell completely silent—zoned out—and not engaging with the group’s conversation. With the amount of times Atsumu had been glancing at you, he didn’t miss the way your behaviour changed, and he knew damn well it was because of him.

The transport back was awfully suffocating due to the fact that Atsumu was sitting next to you—albeit, not by choice. There were more passengers that boarded the bus which meant someone had already taken the seat next to Kita, leaving Atsumu to awkwardly settle into the seat beside your own, after sparing you a side glance.

Both of you were as still as snow that decorated the mountain caps, careful not to touch each other’s clothed arm as the bus swayed with every turn taken. Despite the weird tension, you couldn’t help but feel oddly relaxed—maybe it was from snowboarding all day or maybe it was because Atsumu radiated warmth like no other. Even though he was centimetres away, the warmth of his body was inviting, as if wrapping two mellow arms around you.

You could almost just . . drift off to the land of dreams . .

“Wake up. We’re here.”

The sound of Atsumu’s muffled voice slowly filled your ears as you came to, you were greeted with orange, and pink hues of the afternoon skies outside the window. His gloved hand rested atop your knee, gently shaking it. The bus was half empty now, a small line of passengers down the aisle waiting to get off.

Fuck, did you actually fall asleep?

Upon fully sobering up from sleep, your body stiffened after realising that your head was comfortably resting on Atsumu’s right shoulder. You quickly sat up, awkwardly straightening your back which earned a rather quick glance from the blonde. Heat uncomfortably prickled your skin, something you’ve grown very familiar with.

“Sorry. I can’t believe I fell asleep on you.” You rasped, awkwardly rubbing your nape in embarrassment. Atsumu dismissed it with a lazy wave of his hand, and a forced smile,

“‘S okay.”

That was all he said before getting up from his seat to leave the bus, not once looking back. Your heart sank, and once again, your mind was clouded with unpleasant thoughts. 

You hated how easy it was for Atsumu to build a wall between the two of you.

Though, you didn’t have the time to mope around when Kita called out your name. He rested a hand on your shoulder as he walked behind you to the front of the bus—it gave you a sense of security, as if to remind you that he’ll always be there for you. A wordless reassurance.

That night, you tucked yourself under the kakebuton, hoping that tomorrow, and the coming days would be somewhat different from today.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Naturally, you enjoyed the remaining two days of the trip—On the third day, the group had the opportunity to enjoy a leisure cruise around Shimizu Port which offered breathtaking views of Miho-no-Matsubara in front of Mount Fuji; a view you’d only seen on the internet back then.

With the salty, winter sea breeze engulfing your bodies, the five of you took hundreds of photos with the picturesque background which was surely one for the memories.

Somewhere along the cruise, as the boat glided across the still waters of Shimizu, you, and Atsumu were left alone outside on the open deck. You looked over at the blonde who quietly stood beside you, flaxen strands gently dancing in the winter sea breeze, caramel eyes locked on to the azure waters below—his brows were furrowed in concentration, lips slightly pursed.

You didn’t know which was more breathtaking, the exquisite views of Mount Fuji or Miya Atsumu.

“Can I talk to you?”

It was quiet, and unsure but loud enough for Atsumu to hear over the gentle winds of Shimizu. He looked at you with the same gaze—not the one that made your cheeks heat—before giving a nod. You stared for a moment, studying the way his honeyed eyes shone beneath the winter ray, endless pools of sweet caramel drawing you in.

“Are we . . okay?” You could almost laugh at your pathetic tone, chest tightening with uncertainty. There was a brief pause, the purring of seagulls filling your ears as Atsumu contemplated. He contemplated. That alone was enough to put a crack in your heart.

As if the universe wanted you to break more, he gave you a forced smile, and lied through his teeth,

“Of course we are.”

Both of you were aware of how absurd that lie was but none dared to speak. Instead, you gave a silent nod in response before heading inside to sit with the rest, leaving Atsumu to his own thoughts.

On the fourth day—the last day—the five of you did some last minute souvenir shopping before boarding the shinkansen, en route to Hyōgo.

The purpose of this trip was to have fun, and enlighten one’s mind but you couldn’t believe that you were leaving Shizuoka with a heavy heart—memories of the past four days weighing you down more than it’s supposed to. All because of a certain blonde. You didn’t know what to make of it—what would happen next.

It scared you to even think about drifting apart from him.

The thing is, you expected to come out of this trip closer to Atsumu than ever but it turned to the complete opposite, and you didn’t know what the reason was. He was a different person when the second day rolled around—he never spoke to you, instead, you were only met with his honeyed gaze, though, it was anything but saccharine.

That same night—after parting ways with your friends—you twisted, and turned beneath the ivory sheets, heart racing, and palms sweaty. Even though your body was exhausted from travelling, your mind kept you awake.

Though, only one thought resided in your head.

With your phone in your hand, you clicked on the conversation with Atsumu, a thread of past messages greeting you. Your chest tightened at how close the two of you used to be.

You figured that Osamu must’ve told his brother about what happened back at the restaurant—how he caught you staring at Atsumu. The former was already suspicious of you since then, it only makes sense for him to tell the blonde about it.

About how you might have feelings for him.

That was the only reason you could think of, and it seemed plausible enough. It surely didn’t feel like a coincidence with the way Atsumu’s behaviour shifted after that night. You chalked it up to his way of gently letting you down, a wordless way of telling you that he, in fact, doesn’t feel the same way.

Why else would he behave weirdly, and avoid you?

The time read 1:30 AM. December 30th. 

With a heavy heart, you gathered several thoughts from your heart, and mind before typing out a lengthy paragraph containing a confession of your feelings, and the expectations of rejection.

Confessing to him wasn’t going to change the fact that he didn’t like you back but you needed to hear from Atsumu that he, indeed, didn’t reciprocate your feelings—one last closure to rest your pining heart, and then you could move on. Easier said than done but not entirely impossible.

After a heartbeat, you send the message to Atsumu.

It was quarter to two.

The mellow hum of Hyōgo’s early winter morning settled into Atsumu’s bones like a pair of invisible shackles, holding him hostage between the borders of sleep, and sobriety. On other nights, it lulled him to slumber without any problem but not tonight, not when his mind was plagued with thoughts of you.

Out of all times, his brain decided to recount every single moment with you from the trip. First, it was the happy, mellow memories of the first day—stolen glances full of yearning, his crimson-tinged cheeks, and fluttering heartbeats, and then came the uncomfortable haze that drove a wedge between the two of you. God, Atsumu didn’t even want to think about that moment on the boat.

Atsumu was fully aware that you knew his response was a complete lie but could you really blame him? What difference would it have made if he said ‘yes’? At the end of the day, what he felt for you was one-sided, nothing was going to change the fact that you only viewed him as a friend.

In fact, maybe this wall between the two of you was the cure to his yearning heart—a space to help him move on, and forget the familiarity of loving you.

As Atsumu’s caramel gaze bore into the ceiling above, tracing the moonlit glow that seeped from the window, his phone illuminated the dark room for a brief second, a tinge of blue catching his attention.

Mindlessly reaching for his device that lay on the wooden nightstand, he let out a tired sigh, honeyed eyes squinting at the sudden brightness that invaded his vision. Letting his eyes adjust, Atsumu carefully read the notification banner on the lock screen.

It was a message from you. His heart violently stuttered. Thank goodness for the tight grip he had or else his face would’ve been aching from his phone falling on it. 

As if on instinct, Atsumu sat up, clearly sobered up from the fact that you texted him at almost 2 AM. Were you perhaps also having trouble sleeping? Atsumu wondered if your mind was also filled with thoughts the past few days—thoughts of him. He could only fantasise.

The blonde positioned himself against his headboard before clicking onto your message with a shaky digit, and a thundering heartbeat.

It was an absurdly long paragraph.

‘hey. i know you’re asleep right now, and you’ll probably see this in the morning but whatever :)..’

Atsumu swallowed thickly. For some reason, he felt oddly nervous about this message but at the same time, anticipated the context behind it. Maybe you were trying to salvage whatever was left of the friendship? Or maybe you just wanted to cuss him out with a long, detailed message. 

Nonetheless, Atsumu kept on reading,

‘…i’m not going to beat around the bush or anything so i’ll get straight to the point. i like you. i’ve had feelings for you since highschool and i know it’s cowardly of me to confess over text but i don’t mind being called one.

god, i cannot even remember the feeling of my heart acting normal around you. my heart is so painfully familiar to yearning for you that it hurts. whenever i see you, i just can’t seem to act right. i hate how my heart stutters, how my cheeks heat, how my body suddenly doesn’t know how to act normally. it’s bittersweet because i feel guilty for falling in love with a close friend but also i’m not ashamed of it because you’re so amazing, and caring.

i cherish you a lot, tsumu, i really do and i know you do too but i don’t think it's in the way i want you to. i’m not pressuring you for an answer or anything because i already know you don’t like me back but that’s okay. i don’t know what will happen after this but just know that i really admire our friendship.

like i said before, you don’t have to reply to this. i just really needed to get all the pent up feelings out of my chest so i can finally move on :) just give me some time to be myself again.’

One word. Speechless. Miya Atsumu was speechless.

There were so many goddamn emotions that ran through every single fibre of his body to the point where his brain couldn’t process it all. Atsumu didn’t know whether to be ecstatic with the fact that—holy shit—you reciprocated his feeling, or to be frustrated with the fact that you thought it was one-sided.

His heart hammered against his chest, the pounding of it reaching his very ears. He was so fucking nervous that he breathed through his parted lips, honeyed eyes re-reading every single word you typed. The winter chill that filled his room went awfully warm, mirroring the crimson tinge that painted his cheeks.

So he was the one you were talking about back then; that drunken confession where you told him you had feelings for a certain someone.

Atsumu didn’t know what to do—didn’t know what to respond.

In all honesty, you put him in a very tough spot. How was he supposed to respond after confessing your feelings but also stating that you did not, in fact, sought an answer. Not to mention how you practically put words in his mouth.

Who were you to decide if Atsumu reciprocated your feelings or not?

The blonde took a deep, shaky breath, palms sweating as he gripped the device. Atsumu knew he needed to respond with a calculated mind—as tempting as it was, he wasn’t going to let his heart lead this time.

Not when his mind painfully reminded him of the conversation you two had,

“I don’t even think I’m ready for a relationship.” “So . . yer jus’ gonna confess for the sake of movin’ on? Even if he likes ya back?”

He vividly remembered the way you solemnly nodded to his question, a sad, subtle smile lingering on your lips as if to reassure yourself that you’ll be okay.

Atsumu closed his eyes, letting the sounds of crickets chirping outside consume him. The gears in his head turned, and turned, working overtime to come up with a response. He had to be sensible, whatever he replied was surely going to change the course of your bond, forever.

Though, there was only one thing he knew—to respect your decision.

The morning came rather quickly, early rays peeked through your window, mellow hues of yellow, and orange painted the ivory walls of your room to cast a warm, inviting glow—a reminder of the impending day ahead.

As you reached for your device to check the time, you were greeted with a black, unlit screen, your sleepy reflection staring back. Oh, that’s right. You had turned it off right after sending that risky text message to Atsumu, wanting nothing to do with it.

Vivid memories of last night came flooding in, filling every corner of your mind. All the words you typed down, the feelings that came with it, the hammering of your heart—it came back to you, and now, you were twice as nervous. You wondered if Atsumu had already read your message, even more curious about his response—if he did send one back.

Just thinking about it made your head dizzy. There was a ray of hope tucked neatly at the bottom of your heart, it wasn’t big but you held onto it like it was the most precious thing.

You let out a sigh, and tossed the device on your bed before getting ready to brave the winter day ahead. There were four more days before the new year rolled around—how you were going to spend the last two days heavily depended on Atsumu’s response.

It was inevitable. Every now, and then, your eyes mindlessly wandered to the device that lifelessly lay atop your sheets, its blackened screen inviting you to turn it on. You turned your room upside down for anything to distract you from the silent beckoning of your device—from re-reading manga to blankly staring at the ceiling above.

There was even an urge to read a syllabus from one of your new classes this coming semester.

Four hours. You lasted four dreadful hours before curiosity settled into your skin like a painful bite—no matter how much you ignored it, it seemed to worsen.

And with a hammering heartbeat, and sweaty palms, you turned it on. Patiently waiting, you watched as it displayed the brand logo, and then a few seconds before it loaded your lock screen. A heartbeat passed as the device showed several notifications from last night, and this morning. Disregarding them, you scrolled straight down until Atsumu’s message notification came into view.

You sucked in a breath.

The thread of messages between you two quickly popped up as you clicked on the notification. Bracing yourself, your eyes wander down to the start of his response—god, it was equally as long.

It was sent at 2 AM. It made you even more nervous after realising that Atsumu was indeed still awake when you had sent the message.

‘hey :) first of all, i’m very thankful that you had the courage to bring this up to me so please don’t call yourself a coward, i know how hard it is to try and confess to someone. i find it admirable, really. i think it’s brave of you to decide something like this.

secondly, i am over the moon after finding out you have feelings for me. it feels such an honour to be loved by a close friend so thank you again for letting me know. like you said, i, too, cherish our friendship. i don’t know what will become of our bond after this but just know that i am very glad to be friends with you. 

thirdly, as you’ve mentioned in your message, i don’t feel the same way..’

You stopped reading to stare at the ceiling above, a foolish smile plastered upon your lips—it conveyed anything but happiness.

Oh.

Oh.

So, you were right. Atsumu didn’t feel the same way.

That little bundle of hope deep inside your heart disappeared, dissolving into nothing but what seemed like distant memories—memories of your saccharine moments together.

God, you already had a feeling he didn’t like you back but why did it feel like a hard slap on the face? As if reeling you back into dull reality after a haze of fantasy. This was what you wanted, right? To confess with rejection in mind so you could finally move on. But now that the answer lay right before you on a silver platter, why didn’t you want to move on?

You mustered every single bit of your strength to read the rest of his message, vision becoming blurry as tears slowly formed.

‘…you’re such a great friend. don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful both inside and out but my feelings for you are just platonic. i’m really sorry that i don’t reciprocate your feelings. i don’t know how much this will affect you but just know that if you want me to stay away, i will. it’s the least i can do to help you move on.

you’re an amazing person, and there are a lot of other guys out there who deserve you so much but i am not one of them. again, thanks for letting me know.’

You didn’t even realise hot tears started rolling down your cheeks until it hit the screen with a soft sound, one by one, droplets of tears scattered the surface of your device as if to wash away all of Atsumu’s words

A weird feeling blossomed in your chest, extending its sharp roots down to your stomach where it painfully planted itself. The grip on your phone tightened, other hand clutching—clawing—at your heavy heart, wanting to take it out from the confines of your ribcage and mend it with your own shaky hands.

Everything felt completely still, birds that hummed their usual morning song were no more, mellow sounds of the city became distant as you let yourself wallow in complete sadness.

It was odd, you felt nothing, and everything at the same time—the ugly feeling in your chest, the sting behind your eyes, the impending headache from your stuffy nose. Atsumu’s words repeated inside your mind, plagued it like an invasive plant which invited more pain to your strained heart.

I don’t feel the same way. My feelings for you are just platonic.

It wasn’t just cupid’s stupid arrow agonisingly digging into the core of your heart, no, it also felt like he had wrung your heart dry with his bare hands, and he was laughing about it.

You felt like a fucking fool. Especially for hoping that somewhere down the line, Atsumu felt the same way.

The last two remaining days of the year were a complete haze, navigating through the last moments with a clouded mind, and an unmendable heart while putting on a brave face. And as the clock struck midnight on the 31st, you put on the happiest smile you could muster in front of your parents, and welcomed the new year with uncertainty. You tried not to think about Atsumu’s words but they were seared into your mind, a mocking reminder of your unreciprocated feelings.

It wasn’t long before the first morning of the new year greeted you with clear skies, and warm rays, paired with an early call from Suna. You already knew the reason for his call—of course, one cannot celebrate the new year without hatsumōde.

“It’s a surprise you picked up my call, you haven’t been answering my texts. Anyway, the twins, and I are visiting the shrine, coming?”

“How about Kita?” You asked. “He’s going with his grandmother tomorrow.”

With a sigh, you hesitantly agreed. It's only been two days since the confession, and you could already feel the awkwardness, and pain seeping into your bones. You knew you weren’t even ready to face Atsumu yet but you’ve never turned down a shrine visit from your friends, especially on new years.

Before you knew it, the crisp winter air engulfed your body. Clad in thick layers of clothes, you walked the quiet footpath to the local shrine, heart hammering against your chest with every step taken closer to your friends—to Atsumu.

His flaxen locks were easy to spot, standing out amongst the crowd of people with raven strands. Your heart violently stuttered but you kept your eyes on Suna, putting on a bright smile to greet them. They stood just before the grand torii gate which led straight to the shrine itself.

“Glad ya could make it.” Osamu greeted you with a hug, followed by Suna.

Throughout the whole exchange with the two men, you could feel Atsumu’s burning gaze on the side of your face, and god, was it an extreme sport to ignore it. The two didn’t notice the way you, and Atsumu awkwardly greeted one another—a tight-lipped smile, and a brief eye contact. You felt small, and naked under his honeyed gaze but it wasn’t anything intimate, you guessed this was the consequence of baring the contents of your heart two nights ago.

Tugging at the neckline of your clothes, you began to grow uncomfortable at the awkwardness that made itself known.

You weren’t going to lie, Atsumu looked devastatingly handsome as ever, and it pained your heart even more. Though, he had this familiar expression painted on his face—the one he always wore whenever he was upset about something. It was subtle but you noticed the way his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly, the light crease between his thick brows.

It was hard not to wonder what Atsumu was upset about.

After showing respect by bowing at the torii gate, the four of you fell into a step. Since it was the first day of the new year, the shrine was packed with families, friends, couples and people alike; some were at the chōzuya—water purification pavilion—to purify their body & mind while others were already lined up to pay respects at the main shrine building.

Keeping to the sides of the main path, You, Suna, and Osamu fell into a mellow conversation—talking about the new year ahead, and the upcoming semester. Surprisingly, Atsumu didn’t join in the conversation, hands tucked deep inside the pockets of his jacket, he stared hard at the concrete beneath.

It shouldn’t bother him but it did.

You were the one who got rejected so why was he more upset about the situation? Why were you able to easily slip into a cheerful conversation with Osamu, and Suna while acting like nothing happened two nights ago? Atsumu half expected you to not even turn up today, he had to practically stop himself from overreacting after the brunette stated that you’d come.

Well, it was good that you were already moving on but whatever. Atsumu decided shoving away the weird feeling in his chest was the best option.

After doing the ceremonial purification rite at the chōzuya, the four of you headed at the back of the line for the main shrine. It didn’t take too long until it was your turn, Suna, and Osamu went ahead first which left you, and Atsumu to pair up.

Watching as your two friends prayed at the shrine, you dug your nails into the plush of your palms, awkwardness eating away at you. It felt like everyone’s eyes were burning holes on both your’s, and Atsumu’s backs—as if they all knew what happened between the two of you a couple of nights back; it also didn’t help how you could practically feel Atsumu’s not-so-subtle stares from the side.

Sighing, you spoke to him for the first time since that moment at the boat, “If you’re uncomfortable with me, I’m more than happy to do it alone.”

You didn’t dare look at him, even when he fully turned to face you. It was dangerous, one look into his gaze, and you’d be a sobbing mess.

“It’s not that. It’s just . .”

Atsumu’s sentence trailed off as he noticed you walking up to the shrine. He closed his lips and silently followed, heart weighing heavy with every unspoken word that plagued his mind.

The two of you did the customs as usual: ringing the bell, tossing a 5 yen coin into the wooden saisen-bako, bowing twice, and clapping twice before praying. You, and Atsumu stayed still for a moment, eyes closed, and palms glued together to wish for good luck in the new year ahead. Ending the prayer with another bow, the two of you joined Osamu, and Suna.

“I saw ‘em distributin’ amazake. Wanna go grab some?” The younger twin pointed a thumb over his shoulder. His brother, and Suna agreed rather quickly, their throats bobbing at the mention of the sweet treat. 

Feigning a yawn, you spoke up, “I think I’ll head home now. I didn’t really get much sleep last night.” This earned a unison of disgruntled sounds from Suna, and Osamu whereas Atsumu wordlessly looked over your way.

It wasn’t like you were lying, you really didn’t get much sleep, especially after waiting for the clock to strike midnight but it wasn’t like lack of sleep bothered you, no, it was the growing feeling in your chest the longer you spent time in Atsumu’s presence.

Bidding your friends a good bye, you headed home, each step taken away from Atsumu somewhat eased the strain in your heart.

Never in a million years would your old self believe that the feeling of being away from Atsumu brought a sense of comfort, a tranquillity in your heart. Albeit, not easy—nothing ever was when you’re taming a yearning heart—there were days where the urge to bask in his presence were strong, and there were days where you felt fine without Atsumu around.

Safe to say, your year started with the much dreaded new year blues.

Ever since the new semester started, you’ve busied yourself with assignments, weekly quizzes, and whatever else that allowed you to make several excuses just to not see Atsumu—whether it be movie nights at the twins’ apartment, afternoon library sessions, or simply just coffee runs with the group, you had an excuse

Before you knew it, it had already been a little over two weeks since you’ve confessed—two weeks since you last saw Atsumu at the shrine. Two weeks, and your feelings never wavered for him, not even once, that was the stubbornness you were dealing with.

“Whatever, I’ll come by your place tonight, and drag you out if I have to.”

You groaned, “Suna.” He said your name with an equally serious tone, his dulcet voice spilling from the speakers of your phone.

“You’ve been holed up in your room since forever, and we haven’t seen you that much. I miss you, the twins miss you, and Kita misses you. It’s just a few hours to let loose.” 

“Isn’t it a bit too early in the semester to party? Also, Kita’s coming?” You tried your best to ignore the fact that your heart stuttered at the mention of the twins missing you. Atsumu missed you? Before you could pick Suna’s words apart, he spoke into the line,

“It’s not a party, just a small gathering with some familiar faces. And, no, he isn’t. He needed to work on an assignment.”

“I do, as well!” “Bullshit. I’ll see you at eight.” With that, he ended the call.

And that’s how you ended up in the twins’ apartment, lazily sloshing the alcoholic contents of your plastic cup. You don’t recall the amount of drinks you’ve drank but it sure was enough to have your head spinning.

There were familiar faces here, and there—which you took time to greet every single one—and some foreign faces. You presumed most of the people here were Atsumu’s teammates from the university team with how close they were with the blonde.

In all honesty, you had absolutely no idea as to why the twins were even hosting this gathering, it was so out of the blue. Though, you did hear an orange-haired male loudly exclaim to Atsumu at how much of a genius he was for organising a gathering this early into the semester.

So, it was Atsumu’s idea all along.

“Y’know, you can just talk to him, right?”

Suna’s slurred voice unceremoniously pulled you out of your trance, shifting your attention over to him. “What do you mean?” You coughed, cheeks heating, trying to hide the fact that Suna just caught you shamelessly staring at Atsumu who conversed with the orange-haired male. He sat beside you, body far back into the couch, narrow eyes fighting the sleep that slowly overtook him.

You didn’t like how your mind instantly agreed with his sentence.

The brunette let out a humourless chuckle but didn’t elaborate further, instead, he pulled out his phone to mindlessly scroll on it. Narrowing your eyes at him for a brief moment, you shifted your gaze back to the blonde, he had a big smile on his face, a tinge of crimson across his cheeks.

God, even under the shitty lighting of their apartment, Miya Atsumu still looked handsome as ever.

You stared at him for a moment, heart hammering against your chest, limbs tingling at the sudden urge to walk up to him. Oh, this was a very dangerous game you were playing, especially with the alcohol in your system. Your mind yelled go, go, go but you knew better than to play with fire, right?

Wrong.

In a heartbeat, you were on your feet, taking slow strides over to Atsumu. The sober part of your mind screamed at you to turn around, and sit back down but the tipsy part of your mind was stubborn—you wondered if it took after your heart.

The sudden urge to talk to Atsumu was fuelled by nothing but liquid courage—all the worries in your mind were magically solved; the weight that pulled your heart down was gone, and suddenly, it didn’t seem like a bad idea to even talk to him.

Deep down, you knew you were playing a very dangerous game right now but you couldn’t care less. Not when your heart pulled you closer to him.

As you neared, Atsumu cut the conversation short with his friend, and stared at you with expectant eyes, brows sky high in surprise. He sucked in a breath as you looked up at him through your lashes, the corners of your lips subtly turned upwards. Heart pounding, he shifted his weight from one leg to another as he waited for you to speak first,

“‘Tsumu, can we talk?”

Atsumu’s knees almost gave out upon hearing his nickname roll off your tongue, an icy shiver running up his spine.

Light. Everything felt light—your head, body, voice, heart.

It felt like all the weight of your shoulders had been lifted, and you could be as carefree as a bird soaring through cerulean skies to be one with the wind. Because right this very moment, nothing mattered at all, not even the fact that you stood before the person you’ve been trying to avoid since the new year rolled around.

Tucked neatly at the back of your mind like a silent reminder, you knew you shouldn’t trust your intoxicated self right now—whether it be your thoughts or feelings but the urge to stop wasn’t there, and you felt extremely optimistic about this—all thanks to the burning alcohol that clouded every bit of your judgement.

Everything felt right.

As you met his caramel gaze, your vision tunnelled, everyone, and everything that surrounded both of you slowly turned into nothing but a mix of hazy hues, upbeat music that spilled from the speakers fading into the distance as you, and Atsumu entered your own world—even the orange-haired male with the bright, doe eyes melted away from your view.

Just you, and Atsumu, exactly how it was supposed to be.

With a bated breath, Atsumu wordlessly nodded, and awaited your next move, as if shackled in a hazy trance. He was fully aware of the thundering heartbeat that rang in his ears, the way his slender fingers ever so slightly dug into the scarlet plastic cup in his hand, cheeks burning with unexplainable emotions.

“Let’s talk somewhere else.”

It took all the effort for Atsumu to ignore the feeling of your bare skin against his, the searing touch of your fingers around his wrist as you hurriedly whisked him away into the intimate space of their kitchen, as if to shield you both from everyone else’s prying eyes. Despite a stained judgement, the blonde was sure no one gave a single damn if you were to talk it out in the living room, everyone was in their own buzz anyway.

Nonetheless, Atsumu let you take the lead, whatever you wanted, he obliged. As though he was floating on cloud nine, his body became lighter with each step taken, head lightly spinning, warmth that radiated from your palm seeped into his flushed skin, prickly, miniature kisses engulfing his body.

“I’m okay now.” Resting your lower back against the ivory granite countertops, you stare up at Atsumu through your lashes, not noticing your lingering fingers curled around his wrist. For a brief moment, your breath hitched, stomach churning at the sight before you. The lighting behind Atsumu made him look like absolute heaven, flaxen strands glowing like the first rays beneath the warm illuminant, casting an ethereal halo at the back of his head. It didn’t help how he stared down as if your eyes held the cosmos in them, completely awestruck.

Whatever, you chalked it up to his intoxicated state. What else could it have been?

For a brief moment, Atsumu wracked his brain for context behind your words, and as the invisible lightbulb atop his head switched on, he was reminded of the situation at hand. It definitely pulled his consciousness into sobriety. Just a tad bit.

“A-are y’sure?” A breathless, almost dainty whisper slipped past his rosy lips. He took note of the way your gaze shifted ever so slightly downwards, eyes crudely lingering on the plush of his bottom lip as his tongue briefly swiped against it.

Atsumu’s Adam’s apple bobbed at your not-so-subtle stare, stomach churning with want. He knew this feeling all too well—it visited him whenever he was alone in his room, mind wandering over to thoughts of you which filled every corner of his mind; sometimes the feeling was too strong, other times he could bear it. Tonight, though, Atsumu wasn’t sure if he was immune to this feeling, let alone erase any impulsive thoughts from his intoxicated mind.

What pulled you into this decision was something you’d never figure out; maybe it was the fact that your yearning heart grew tired of the icy distance between the two of you or maybe you’ve truly come to terms with his unreciprocated feelings—you didn’t know. All you knew was that nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations, especially when it involved feelings. But this could be an exception, right?

“So . . Does that mean we can be friends again?”

It was weird. Atsumu’s voice brimmed with a sense of hope—as if he’s been waiting for this very moment for the past two weeks—but the strange glint in his caramel eyes betrayed the blonde entirely.

Despite your better judgement, you chalked it up to the warm light that casted a soft shadow upon his features; maybe you were too dizzy to see things clearly, or maybe you were looking too deep into Atsumu’s expression—hoping to find some sort of sadness upon hearing your decision to move on, and accept his rejection.

Atsumu watched as your eyes traced his features, closely observing them as if to find some kind of answer; as selfish as it seemed, the intensity in your eyes gave him a tinge of hope that perhaps you could let yourself pine over him just a little longer because he wasn’t sure what he’d do with the knowledge that your heart would no longer yearn for him.

The situation was a double-edged sword, really.

You let out a puff of breath, “Yeah, of course. We’re friends again.” Friends. That word should have given you more relief than sorrow but could you really blame yourself? It felt like a bitter reminder of cold rejection which resembled salt pressed against an unhealed wound, a searing itch that left your skin feverish.

Even if it meant selling yourself short.

Avoiding his eye contact, you swiftly unwound your fingers from his wrist, mentally cursing yourself for not noticing any sooner. A cold embrace engulfed Atsumu’s wrist, where your fingers were mere seconds ago, he tried his best to ignore how his body yearned for your warmth. He gave a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

For a moment, you stood in each other’s silence like two predators sizing up one another, eagerly waiting for one’s move before pouncing, the silent hum of the fridge making up for the lack of conversation between one another.

How strange, this agreement should have cleared the unsettled air between you, and Atsumu but why did it feel like the complete opposite? As if the air turned into something more uncertain. You both knew you could feel the uncanny tension rising up, up, up but not one dared to address it.

Swiftly burying it under the rug, Atsumu spoke, thinly slicing through your trance, “You’ll find someone better.”

God, he must’ve really matured this new year because he didn’t know how he was able to say that straight to your face. Being one to wear his heart on his sleeve, this was completely foreign for Atsumu—or maybe he just got better at masking his true emotions.

You closed your eyes upon hearing his response, as if doing so would help you brave the weight of his words. It didn’t. That was the last thing you wanted Atsumu to say to you, ‘someone better’, it was brazen of him to think so poorly of himself, as though he wasn’t that certain someone. It was entirely unfair on your end because who was Atsumu to determine which person was for you?

Even just thinking about it had you fuming, rejection was one thing but completely disregarding the reason behind your feelings for him was another because in your eyes, Miya Atsumu was that ‘someone better’; he was the one who understood you the most, the one who always looked out for you, the one you fucking wanted.

And despite your mind telling you to nod along, and suck it up, the alcohol in your body was stronger; so, you opened your eyes, and furrowed your brows at him,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“But I don’t want anyone better, Tsumu. I want you.”

Atsumu’s eyes widened, the desperation in your voice was something he hadn't heard before, it definitely pulled at his heart, guilt gnawing at his skin for being the sole reason for your drunken actions. He may be drunk but he wasn’t stupid, Atsumu knew you should’ve kept that one to yourself, he could practically see you brimming with temerity but he’d be lying to himself if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat or two.

I want you, too. God, he wanted to say it back badly. The words were lodged in his throat, unable to slip past his lips despite the best efforts to do so.

It dawned on him—right then, and there—the severity of your feelings for him, the immense weight of it. Now, guilt really ate him away; he could only imagine how the past two weeks were for you. Did you cry while thinking about him?

That was the last thing Atsumu wanted.

Though, amidst the guilt, something else blossomed in his chest, it made him feel like he stood upon the highest pedestal. Atsumu didn’t know whether it was pride or greed; as fucked up as it was, he couldn’t bring himself to push the impulsiveness away as though you’ve infected him with your own. His heart hammered at a thought that formed in his mind, even just thinking about it stirred his chest.

Despite Atsumu’s better judgement, he held onto the feeling with a tight grip, and opened his mouth, tongue nervously swiping at the bottom lip,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“Is . . Is it bad that I really want to kiss you right now?”

You sucked in a breath, heart pounding at Atsumu’s sudden confession. If you were sober, you’d have a million thoughts racing through your mind right now, questioning the feelings he really had for you but unfortunately, only one thing was on your mind—how badly you wanted to kiss Atsumu too.

Dragging yourself further down, down, down the void of uncertainty, you shook your head in a daze,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“What if I say I want to kiss you, too?” 

Barely audible but Atsumu heard it just fine over the pounding of his heart, over the incoherent conversations beyond this kitchen, over the muted bass music because as long as it's you, he’d always listen, even if it meant drowning out the entire world.

Then, there was a heartbeat, a passing second, a dip of a finger to test undisturbed waters; the funny thing was that even a minute disturbance could cause a ripple effect for miles, and miles, awakening the dormant creatures that lay beyond the azure surface.

It was swift, as though Atsumu had been waiting for this very moment to happen—one second you were locked in a trance, the next his lips were pressed against your own, a shared warmth of intimacy searing both bodies in an eternal blaze like a blue flame that dangerously destroyed everything in its path.

Shy. Warm. Soft. Rosy. Like it was meant to be. The list could go on, and on but it was as though your thoughts came quickly before your mind could register them, leaving you in a white, empty haze. With the plastic cups long forgotten on the counter behind, you closed your eyes as Atsumu’s body eagerly pressed against yours, strong arms coming up to rest on the granite countertop behind you, fingers digging into the material to ground himself.

For a moment, everything was still, lips unmoving against each other, a time to bask in this newfound intimacy—the foreignness of one another’s body. The earth felt like it spun on its axis way faster than usual, as if day, and night merged to become one; hues of late dusk, and early dawn intertwined like your bodies.

Bitterness from Atsumu’s rosy lips lingered on your own; you never liked the taste of beer but oddly enough, you didn’t mind it at all.

Your hands cupped Atsumu’s jaw, fingers gently digging onto his soft skin, eager for more as your lips moulded together. Slowly moving his mouth against your own, you followed suit to match the sensual pace he had set, falling deeper, and deeper between the hazy boundaries of friendship, and something a little more. Low whimpers slipped past between each feverish kiss as a drunken greed gradually controlled your bodies.

The initial softness of the kiss dissipated as each second passed, slowly turning into something more carnal, and passionate—breaths becoming heavier, and faces eagerly pressed against one another, angled in a way to grant more access.

Was this what cloud nine felt like? Exhilarating? Euphoric? As though there was no one else—

“Oh!—Holy shit. Did I interrupt?”

A familiar voice violently pulled you, and Atsumu back into reality, swiftly jumping away from each other’s hold, and looking over to the owner of the voice. Suna. The brunette stared at both of you—looking like a deer caught in headlights, chests heaving—his expression was unreadable, almost like a mix of shock, and amusement. You, and Atsumu kissing in the kitchen was absolutely not in his new year bingo card.

Well, this encounter certainly was enough to strip you into sobriety.

Your head spun a little, lungs severely deprived of oxygen. Shame, and realisation settled deep in your bones—shame because Suna just caught you, and Atsumu almost sucking the soul out of each other, and realisation because everything about this whole situation was so wrong; a million questions formulated in your mind as each awkward second passed.

On the other hand, Atsumu was equally as horrified, albeit annoyed that he didn’t have the chance to kiss you longer. The thrumming of his heart pounded in his ears, his mind trying to come up with anything to say just to stop the thoughts formulating in Suna’s mind—oh, he knows that look on his friend’s face very well.

Your view became obstructed by the expanse of Atsumu’s back, a subtle attempt to block you from the brunette’s gaze.

“W-what the hell, Suna?! Don’t jus’ barge into the kitchen, ya scrub!” Atsumu tried his best to act tough but miserably failed with the shakiness in his voice betraying him.

As if to make matters worse, Suna didn’t back down, a smug look painted on his flushed face as the blonde shamelessly blamed him,

“Well, how was I supposed to know that you two were sucking each other’s faces in the kitchen?!”

Did he have to word it like that?

Atsumu opened, and closed his mouth, trying to think of ways to deny Suna’s accusations but his mind went blank, even with just the brunette mentioning your kiss had him blushing like a mad man. Silence yet again occupied the kitchen, low bass music spilled from the speakers, and incoherent chatters from beyond the space making up for the lack of conversation.

Before the situation could get even more awkward, you spoke up, “I . . think I’m just going to go . . ” This gained both their attention, carefully watching as you navigated past Atsumu, and out the kitchen.

The blonde watched as you staggered past him, and Suna; he wanted to go after you, and talk about what just happened but the soles of his feet stayed rooted on the ground, too heavy to lift, even the words he wanted to say were lodged in his throat.

So, Atsumu decided it was best to let you go.

Monday. 

Everyone’s enemy but also a day to gather around the campus coffee shop with friends, and be productive for a while. The calming aroma of coffee engulfed your senses; low chatter from other customers, faint jazz music, and the occasional hum of the coffee machine filled the table from the lack of conversation. Despite the café’s light ambience, it didn’t do much to hide the growing tension that surrounded the group, specifically you, Atsumu, and Suna.

Kita was the first to notice the subtle shift of aura that emanated from you three, especially after catching a glimpse of Suna’s narrow eyes trailing from you to Atsumu over his laptop screen; though, he had much more things to worry about than to indulge himself in whatever tomfoolery this was. He’d ask questions later.

On the other hand, Osamu was more than curious, especially after his older twin started acting out of character—Atsumu wasn’t one to engulf himself in thoughts to the point where he’d be staring at an inanimate object, in a complete daze but lately, Osamu has seen him behave as such.

The latter could practically feel the weight of awkwardness pressing against his skin as he subtly watched the three of you. Of course, he did his best to pry off information from the blonde only to no avail; Osamu didn’t know why Suna was even caught up in this but he suspected it was from the party a few days ago.

He remembered seeing you stumble out of the kitchen when he was on his way to grab more drinks from their fridge, the younger twin thought nothing of it until he was met with Suna, and Atsumu awkwardly standing in the kitchen. Normally, Osamu would’ve asked questions that night but the alcohol in him couldn’t care less about the situation.

Staring at the untouched document pulled up on your laptop, you ducked behind your screen to avoid Suna’s wandering gaze, and Osamu’s not-so-subtle curiosity. This was hell. You didn’t even know why you decided to turn up today after that shit show at the party—maybe because you thought you could shove down that memory especially after telling Atsumu that you were fine or maybe you craved the closeness you two once had, and now you were here to rebuild that.

As easy as it sounded, you feared it might not be so with the way Atsumu has been avoiding you like the plague. First, it started when you walked into the café at the same time as the twins, Osamu greeted you at the door before heading inside leaving you, and Atsumu outside. Now, that would’ve been fine if the latter didn’t make a show of taking a couple of steps back to let you go first as though you carried some kind of incurable disease.

The second time was when Atsumu realised the only vacant seat was next to your own, thus, asking to swap with Osamu just so he could sit farthest away from you. And the third was when you had asked him if he was alright while waiting in line to order only to be met with a mindless nod before returning to his phone in his hand.

You tried your very best to ignore the blooming pain in your chest; sure, being sad about Atsumu possibly avoiding you was reasonable but then again, you were the one who told him you were okay now—how Atsumu decided to act after the party was beyond your control.

God but it pissed you off. Swallowing one’s pride, and making effort to rekindle a cold friendship was not an easy feat when the other doesn’t do the same. It shouldn’t work you up this much but it did, and now you were second guessing yourself that maybe it was an irrational decision to abruptly tell Atsumu that you’ve come to terms with moving on.

That night at the party, were you lying to yourself just so you could be around him again?

Whatever. It was too late to take it back anyway.

The days ahead were monotonous, and boring; you, and Atsumu remained orbiting around one another, careful not to get into each other’s path of trajectory but it was tiring. Not only did it feel like navigating through eggshells while he was around but the constant questions from your friends tested your limits. Though, it wasn’t their fault for simply being curious, and getting left in the dark about the whole situation but the prying felt like endless jabs of sharp needles along your skin.

From their point of view, you, and Atsumu were stubborn about the whole situation. None dared to speak up about it, acting as though everything was fine, so your friends were left with very little to work with.

It felt like a game of cat, and mouse where you were the feline chasing Atsumu around. The longer the days dragged on, the more thoughts formulated in your mind, and they all involved the blonde in some way or another. And just like everyone else, you had your limits too; you were tired of Atsumu acting like a stubborn idiot.

When you confessed to Atsumu, sure, you expected an awkward phase but this was even worse. There wasn’t just distance between the two of you, it felt like you were strangers.

He was known for brashly saying the sharp truth, so why couldn’t he be straightforward with you? Was he disgusted by the kiss, and deeply regretted it? Did he think you were weird? You didn’t know, but you were bound to find out even if it meant knocking at the twin’s apartment door at 5:45 PM on a cold, rainy Thursday.

With the sun hidden behind the looming grey clouds, the late winter afternoon was even darker; the roads were packed with vehicles while the sidewalks occupied students, and company workers alike trying their best to shield themselves from the heavy downpour. Despite the streets being illuminated with a tinge of warm yellow from cars, and streetlights, it did nothing to brighten up the gloomy day.

Funny, it was as though the universe knew how you felt today.

“If yer lookin’ for ‘Samu, he won’t be back until 8 PM.” Greeted with Atsumu’s shocked face as the ivory door to their apartment opened, you couldn’t help but visibly roll your eyes at his stubbornness. Yeah, like you’d be here at their apartment looking for Osamu—you knew each of their timetables like the back of your hand.

Flaxen strands that sat atop his head were unruly, a sign that he must’ve been taking a nap sometime ago. Atsumu donned a light blue hoodie paired with black sweats; you tried your best not to ogle the man, after all, you were here for a sensible talk.

“I’m here for you, Miya.”

Atsumu gripped the metal handle a little tighter, the coolness of it seeping into the warmth of his skin. He tried not to flinch at the sudden formality of the conversation. Nonetheless, the blonde pulled the door wider, a wordless invite to their humble space. Giving him a small smile before walking inside, you tried not to think about the last time you were here, and how you found yourself drunkenly kissing Atsumu in their kitchen.

The sound of the door closing shut behind Atsumu reverberated throughout the walls of their apartment, followed by a deafening silence. Met with his honeyed stare, you awkwardly coughed, and played with the hem of your jacket, “I’m not going to take up too much of your time . . but I do just have one question.”

There was a momentary silence as Atsumu waited for you to proceed; he had so many questions running through his mind right now, and it took all his willpower to hold them back, and let you speak instead. It was getting harder, and harder to focus as each second passed with the pounding of his heart—Atsumu didn’t know what to expect.

“Did you—Did you regret that kiss . . ?”

Your skin burned as the question lingered in the air, a beat or two before Atsumu finally spoke up, “. . N-no, why’d ya ask?”

Sighing, impatience prickled your feverish skin. ‘Why’d you ask?’  What the hell does he mean by why would I ask? We made out for fuck sake, that’s something friends don’t do! Why is he acting so casual about it? 

“God, this just made it a lot worse. I have so many fucking questions that my mind wants to explode right now,” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you slowly paced back, and forth, the floors beneath silently creaking with each step. So, Atsumu didn’t regret the kiss but he’s acting like you’re strangers—fucking hell, why did he even kiss you in the first place?!

Your mind was a complete mess.

Trying to calm yourself down with slow, deep breaths, you decided to address the elephant in the room first, “Then why have you been avoiding me, Atsumu?—I’m sorry but I’m the one who got rejected, I cannot think of any reason why you should be avoiding me like this.” Atsumu hated that look on your face—the desperation, the sadness, the frustration. He never thought that he’d be the one making you feel all these negative emotions, and it pained him as much as it pained you.

Atsumu let out a sigh, carefully formulating the right words into a coherent sentence, “I’m just . . trying to be careful, okay?” His stomach dropped as your face contorted with more confusion.

Did he say something wrong?

“Careful about what, Atsumu?! You—ugh! It’s so hard to talk to you when you’re giving me all these stupidly vague answers! I’ve already told you I was fine. I don’t care anymore that you don’t like me back. I just want us to be back to normal again.”

Now, it was Atsumu’s turn to be upset. He couldn’t bear the thought of you moving on so quickly, and that’s why he’s been acting distant lately; it annoyed him how easy it was for you to talk to him like nothing happened but Atsumu knew he couldn’t tell you the reason—why couldn’t you just try, and understand his situation? Rejecting wasn’t an easy task to do, especially if it was the person he had been hopelessly pining for.

“Well—maybe things aren’t meant ta back ta normal!”

What?

You stared at him for a second, brows furrowed as you tried to comprehend his words that lingered in the cold air of their apartment. Silence engulfed the two of you, the distant sounds of Hyōgo’s late afternoon rain seeping through the slightly opened window.

“Do you feel uncomfortable around me after knowing the fact that I have feelings for you? Is that it?” “God, no—I could never feel that way.”

It took all of Atsumu’s patience not to wrap his arms around you—he wanted to hold you against him badly; that defeated look on your face broke his heart but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Maybe Atsumu was the coward after all.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, ‘Tsumu!”

“It’s hard f’me as well, y’know?!” “What is?”

Atsumu closed his eyes, the words he’s been wanting to scream at the top of his lungs lodged in his throat, threatening to slip out. A wave of adrenaline rush coursed through his veins, heart pounding like crazy with this newfound high, it made him feel as though he was invincible—as if he could say anything, and everything without a care for its consequences.

Fuck it.

“Fuck—It’s because I like ya back, okay?! I always have! And rejectin’ ya was so goddamn hard f’me because I’m still not over ya. God, I think about ya every single second, and it pains me so much because yer already movin’ on, and ‘m still stuck here.”

What?

Flabbergasted, you stared at Atsumu all wide-eyed, the thrumming of your heart becoming increasingly loud against your ears as each slow second passed. Did he just say he liked you back? As though mother nature was watching, the rain outside poured harder; sounds of droplets of heavy water against the roof filled the silent apartment, pulling you back into reality.

“Then why—If you feel the same way then why did you reject me?”

When you knocked on the door to the twins’ apartment, you expected a sincere conversation with Atsumu, not him confessing his feelings out of the blue. You were absolutely speechless—you didn’t know whether to jump for joy because he actually does like you back or whether to massage your temples from pure confusion.

“Back then during the trip, ya told me ya weren’t ready for a relationship yet, and that ya only wanted ta confess ta get rejected n’ move on. I wanted ta respect yer decision, so . .”

Flashbacks of said conversation from the trip quickly came into mind, and how you told Atsumu about not being ready for a relationship yet.

Oh.

Oh.

The weight of frustration from your shoulders slowly dissipated, the pent up annoyance you held in your heart was gone too. Suddenly, you weren’t so frustrated anymore after learning about the whole truth behind the situation. You were able to breathe better with the bad air finally cleared between you, and Atsumu.

Looking at it now, you felt absolutely silly. The whole situation turned out to be one big misunderstanding, it was almost laughable—now, you truly understood the essence of communication is key.

You let out a humourless laugh, “You’re so stupid, you know that?” Taking a few steps toward the blonde, you leaned your forehead against his chest, a hand coming up to curl into a fist to lightly hit it; a faint scent of his musky cologne lingered on the fabric of his hoodie, effectively invading your senses. Atsumu didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your torso, pulling your body flush against his before resting his chin on the crown of your head.

For a beat or two, you, and Atsumu remained in each other’s hold, basking in the cosy atmosphere. 

“Would I be more stupid if I tell ya I want ta pick up where we left off at the party?”

Before you knew it your lips were sealed in a searing kiss—this time, it felt raw, all things passionate, and eager. Hands impatiently roaming each other’s unexplored bodies, sounds of wet kisses slowly filling up the apartment. The atmosphere shifted from cosy to something more sensual, light groans, and moans slipping in between each kiss.

Your hands rested on Atsumu’s golden strands, fingers gently tugging at it as he worked his lips down the column of your neck, teeth lightly nipping at the feverish skin. Atsumu focused on a certain spot just below your ear, nipping, and sucking at it which pulled a dainty whine from your lips.

“‘T-Tsumu—Ah!” You gasped, his tongue leaving trails of goosebumps beneath its sinful licks against your skin. He cursed under his breath, the dizzying tone of your voice awakening the slumbering carnal beast that resided in his core. With each dulcet moan that slipped past your swollen lips, Atsumu became greedier, he wasn’t going to settle for mere kisses on your skin—he needed to hear more.

Pulling away from your intoxicating scent, Atsumu looked down at you with parted lips, and hooded eyes, caramel gaze clouded with nothing but pure desire. “I think we should take this ta my room.” He panted.

Nodding at his proposal, hurried footsteps padded over to his room as though each second wasted was crucial. As soon as the door behind Atsumu slammed shut, his lips were on yours once again, strong hands deftly working on the layers of clothing you wore, slowly slipping them off of you one by one; Atsumu could practically feel himself shaking with nervousness, and excitement.

Discarding your top on the wooden floor beneath, Atsumu stared wide-eyed at your torso, both hands coming up to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra, earning a low moan from you. The air of the room felt cold against your skin but Atsumu’s touch was enough to ignite you.

“So beautiful . .” He absent-mindedly gasped, a lovestruck look in his honeyed eyes.

Hands eagerly tugging at the hem of his hoodie, Atsumu swiftly pulled the fabric off his torso in one movement, golden strands tousled from the action. Goosebumps formed upon his sun kissed skin, bare torso met with the cold winter air; your eyes raked Atsumu’s physique up, and down, shamelessly ogling his muscled chest in all its naked glory. God, you used to just fantasise about this, and now it was served right in front of you on a silver platter.

You decorated each other’s skin with endless love bites, sinful hues of dark red, and purple peppered along your chest, and neck. Atsumu took his sweet time to savour every bit of you—your taste, your scent, your sounds, everything. He made sure to bask in your serene beauty, the gentle glow of your bare figure before utterly devouring you like a starved animal, ravaging your purity with carnal desire.

Atsumu let himself go at the raw intimacy of your bodies, the feeling of your sweet warmth brought tears of pleasure in his eyes as he pushed, and pushed towards the newfound ecstasy you both shared. The chant of his name slipped past your lips like a sinful melody, mere fuel to the relentless drive of his hips. But Atsumu held you dearly against his naked body through it all, fingers intertwined with your own as he keenly chased both your pleasures, choked out moans of your name whispered hotly against your sensitive skin.

And as you both tipped over the edge, Atsumu didn’t fail to tell you how much he loved you in between each pathetic moan as he painted your insides white, the dizzying pleasure contorting his handsome face in pure ecstasy. You held him in your arms, nails digging crescent-shaped marks on his skin, whispering saccharine praises to him as you let go, and emptied the words of your heart.

As the gentle aftermath of the passionate exchange rolled around, Atsumu held you in his arms, hearts beating as one, and lulling you both to sleep. The last thing you heard was a faint ‘I love you’ before passing out from exhaustion.

“‘Tsumu, what did ya want for—Oh my god! What the fuck?!” 

A familiar voice abruptly pulled you, and Atsumu out of your sleep, followed by the loud bang of his door slamming shut. Muffled expletives from outside the room could be heard as you both stirred beneath the ivory sheets. “‘Tsumu, what the hell?! Ya should’ve warned me before I went into yer room!” Osamu yelled from the other side of the door.

Atsumu groaned, rubbing his face before turning to the door, “Shut yer trap! Ya should’ve knocked!” At his twin’s silence, he let out a sigh, and slung a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his naked body before closing his eyes once again.

You let out a soft chuckle, “We really need to stop getting caught. First, Suna, and now Osamu.” Atsumu hummed in response, too sleepy to even think or form a coherent sentence. Snuggling closer to him, you closed your eyes, and went back to sleep as well.

Oh, you could get used to this.

Winter slowly turned into spring as March rolled around—the end of the academic year.

Trees that were once bare slowly blossomed with flowers, hues of yellows, and browns were replaced with endless greenery, and frigid air became more welcoming like a warm embrace. Most importantly, the cold distance between you, and Atsumu no longer existed, instead, it was replaced by fluttering heartbeats, and fluffy moments that hinted at a sweet forevermore.

“There he is! How does it feel to be a fresh graduate!” Suna whistled as Kita walked over to the group, clad in a black academic gown with a matching trencher propped neatly on his head, the golden tassel on the cap swayed with every step taken; he donned a warm smile, one hand holding his well-deserved degree.

The buzz of excitement outside the venue was high, the graduation ceremony having finished just a few minutes ago. You were all surrounded by graduands, all with heartfelt smiles on their faces as they conversed with family, and friends alike. 

As your friends fell into a merry conversation, a warm hand interlaced with your own, giving your hand a comfortable squeeze. Atsumu. Looking up at your boyfriend, he cheekily leaned into your ear, whispering an ‘I love you’ before slowly blinking at you, mirroring a cat’s action. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at his antics.

“Are you two lovebirds done, now?” Suna coughed, pulling you back into reality.

Met with amused expressions plastered on your friends’ faces, you, and Atsumu returned a sheepish smile before joining in their conversation. “Anyway, we were talkin’ about how we should celebrate Kita’s graduation. It can also serve as a treat for us for makin’ it through another academic year.” Osamu explained, earning a hum of approval from you, and Atsumu.

“How about a spring trip to Kyoto?”

[wendichester]

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ home is where you are,

summary. you make sam want to settle down.

pairing. sam winchester x reader genre. pure fluff

wordcount. 588

notes / warnings. forehead kisses, tender confessions, and a man realizing he doesn't want to fight monsters anymore

It happens on a Tuesday. The kind of Tuesday where rain patters against the windows and time feels syrupy, like the world’s moving just a little slower so you can catch your breath.

You’re in the kitchen, humming to some old song on the radio, barefoot in one of Sam’s flannel shirts—because, let’s be honest, you’ve slowly kidnapped half his wardrobe. You’re stirring something in a pot that smells like childhood and comfort and “please stay a little longer.”

And behind you, Sam just watches.

He’s leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, hair still damp from the shower, wearing sweatpants and one of those rare, easy smiles that aren’t shadowed by blood or loss or guilt. There’s something soft in his eyes—so soft it almost scares you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, without turning, but your grin gives you away.

He walks over slowly, wraps his arms around your waist from behind, and presses a kiss to the crook of your neck. “Just thinking.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “It is. Thinking about something pretty reckless, actually.”

You pause, still holding the wooden spoon, feeling the weight of his body melt into yours. “Reckless how?”

His fingers trace lazy circles on your hips, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter—like a secret he’s scared to say too loud. “Thinking about... quitting.”

You blink. “Quitting what?”

“The life.” His breath fans warm against your skin. “Hunting. Running. Living out of motel rooms and praying we don’t die tomorrow.”

Your heart stutters. You turn slowly in his arms, and his face is wide open, no armor, no shields. Just Sam, and a kind of raw hope you’ve never seen on him before.

“You serious?” you whisper.

He nods. “I didn’t think I was. Not at first. But being here with you, waking up without a gun under my pillow, eating food that isn’t wrapped in greasy paper... It makes me wonder if maybe—maybe—I could want something more.”

You reach up and cup his face, thumb brushing the line of his jaw. “You could have that, Sam. You deserve that.”

His throat works, like the words get stuck on the way out. “I didn’t think I did. For a long time, I thought this was all I was ever going to be. Just one more body in the fight. But then you showed up and... you make it quiet.”

Your chest aches, full in a way that feels almost unbearable.

“You think I wouldn’t want that with you?” you say, eyes misty. “I’ve wanted that since the second you fixed my busted heater and then looked offended when I offered to pay you in lasagna.”

He chuckles, rubbing at his eyes like the emotion is too much. “That lasagna was really good.”

“Then let me keep making it.” You press your forehead to his. “Let me be the reason you stop running.”

For a long moment, it’s just the two of you, standing there in the hum of the kitchen—his arms around your waist, your hands on his chest, the smell of dinner and rain, and the future hanging in the air like a promise.

“You ever think about it?” he asks softly. “A house. With a porch. Maybe a garden. A dog.”

You smile. “Yeah. And you in it. Sitting with me on the porch after dinner, your hand in mine, not a damn demon in sight.”

He kisses you like that future’s already started.

Like maybe, finally, it has.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[sadburntbread]

BATFAM X NEGLECTED! MALE READER - PART TWO -

----- Warnings before you read ----- torture, experimentation, angst, death, use of needles

A soft ringing noise wakes you from your rest, you tried to find the cause of it, however you couldn't find the strength to open your eyes. Slowly, the noise got louder. The ringing caused a pounding in your head that made you desperately want to cover your ears, to try and block out the terrible noise. Then, it faded into a low ringing, not exactly perfect but much better.

It was in that moment of peace that everything came back to you, your family, the fight, your death.

You suddenly felt cold; an unbearable chill ran through your body. You weren't sure if the sudden chill was from the fear of your death or if it was because of the temperature. You wondered if this was how your mother felt when she died. No, you don't want to think about her, knowing how disappointed she would be in you. Your heart started racing as panic began to set in, a single thought repeated over and over again, like a mantra inside your head.

"I don't want to die"

"I don't want to die"

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE"

You needed to calm down and breathe.

Your body felt heavy as if tons of weight were resting on it, everything hurt. everything but your arm... Why couldn't you feel your arm? You could feel your heartbeat getting faster and your breath getting shorter-

Then your breath caught as you realized something, you could feel your heart beating. That had to mean you weren't dead. With this realization you tried even harder to open your eyes, you struggled for a few minutes before you could finally crack them open. You took a few moments to look around the room. The walls and floor were completely concrete with a red door near the foot of the bed you were in, to the right you noticed a small rolling table that seemed to have tools on it, but you weren't able to see from your current position. A soft clack of metal caused your attention to drift to your left hand; you were strapped down by a thick piece of metal. When you tried to lift that arm you noticed that one of the screws were loose, maybe you could unscrew it with your other hand. Your gaze drifted over, and you noticed a large wrap around your stomach, your heart shuddered as you decided to ignore that, escape comes first. As you looked over, all the hope left you. Your arm was gone, cut off just below the shoulder. It was wrapped in some white gauze that was drenched in blood.

A loud creek caused your body to tense, looking over to the cause of the sound, you saw a man holding a clipboard walk in. He wore a long lab coat and had a stethoscope draped around his neck. His dark brown hair just barely reached his shoulders; his eyes had a bored look to them however, as soon as he noticed that you were awake his eyes lit up.

"Good morning!" he walked up to your right side and looked closely at the bandage. "You woke up a bit faster than I thought you would. Very good" After a moment he clicked his tongue at the state of the bandage. The man then walked over to the small table, placed his clipboard down and rolled it over to the bed. Thanks to this you were able to see most the stuff on it. There were multiple tools that looked like something a doctor would use and a few that you couldn't recognize. You opened your mouth to speak, to ask the man where you were. However, as if reading your thoughts he stopped you. "Try not to speak for a few days. Your throat was damaged a bit during the explosion. But you don't need to worry, you are safe here. I will take good care of you". His soft smile did not match the look in his eyes. "Your stomach was in the worst shape, you lost a lot of important internal organs, but I was able to get some...replacements" You wanted to ask the man what he meant but decided to save the questions for later. The man then began unwrapping the bandage on your shoulder, his touch was gentle, yet it still caused a sharp pain to shoot through your body. You grunted in discomfort but that only seemed to make your throat ache. The man then shook his head and sighed. "See? what did I tell you about speaking?", You wanted to argue that a grunt wasn't speaking, and it only happened because of him but the lingering pain in your throat caused you to instead just give him a glare. The man simply ignored your glare and instead picked up a fresh roll of gauze and rewrapped your shoulder you had to hold back any sounds in fear of the pain from your throat. He then looked at your throat. "This one was replaced a just a few hours ago, and lucky for you I am almost done with the replacement for your arm". At his words you shot him a surprised look, was this something Bruce paid for? You found it hard to believe given the state of the room you were in.

While you were lost in thought, the man then pulled out a needle and stuck it into the side of your neck, the pain was immediate. You let out a sharp yell which only made it worse. You looked up at the man, he was speaking to you, but you couldn't hear what he said. Your eyes got cloudy before sleep pulled you under.

The next time you woke up you were in a different room, this one was bright, the walls were white and there was a large light positioned overtop of you. The man from before slouched in his chair on your right side. He seemed very focused on what he was doing, he hadn't even noticed that you wake up yet. You steadied yourself and watched the man, making sure not to move any muscle more than necessary. You knew that the best thing to do in this situation was to stay quiet, after all this unknown man held a sharp tool against your skin. He seemed to be attaching the nerves to something metal, an arm you guessed, you couldn't see form this angle.

Your gaze was trained on the man as he worked. You realized that you didn't feel any pain from the operation, you realized that it must've been from whatever drug he injected you with before.

It took a while, but the man finished with a satisfied expression. After checking over his work he looked to you, a look of surprise crossed his face as he noticed you awake.

"Oh my, how long have you been awake?" He asked, as if you could answer him with what he did to your throat. Your glare seemed to speak volumes because he let out a laugh "Don't worry, you can speak now. You have an incredible healing speed. Definitely something to take advantage of" The man seemed to mumble the last part.

"Who are you?" Your voice was rough and scratchy from not using it. How long have you been out?? "Where am I?" You tried to sound threating, however given your current situation, you probably looked no more intimidating than an injured doe.

The man smiled back "I am the one who saved you, my name is Dr. Crane. During the fight between Batman and Joker you were left to die, the building you were placed in blew up. Luckly for you I was grabbing supplies for an experiment nearby and happened to be passing through the wreckage", He watched you carefully as he recounted that day's events, "Unfortunately, there was no saving your right arm. After all, it was hardly attached. Not to even mention the terrible state of your stomach, I was surprised you were even alive, it was then that I knew I had to have you as my patient. However, I had to sever the remaining bit of your arm and drag you with me. Once we were safe and far enough, I stitched you up enough to survive and brought you back to my lab."

You knew you couldn't trust him however knowing your family left you to die shattered your heart. You never thought they would just leave. You realized then that you had never truly mattered to them; you were just a tool. You resigned yourself to the painful truth before asking Dr. Crane another question.

"So, what do you plan to do with me? Kill me? Use me against Batman, I'm sure you figured out his identity because of me". You felt tired. Honestly, at that point you wished you had died, at least then you would've been able to see your mother again, feel her warm arms wrap around you, more comforting than a blanket.

At your question the man let out a laugh. "What I plan to do? It is simple. I plan to make you into my greatest project. No one will stand in your way when I am done." He seemed excited at the mere thought of your future success, "Ah, and about Batman. I honestly could not care less about him; I am a scientist after all, my projects are the most important to me".

You squinted your eyes at him, disbelief coating your features. However, you paused when you saw him reaching for a needle. "What is that for?" You demanded.

"Well, I thought since you keep waking up, we can try a few experiments. you seem healed enough for now". With that he injected the needled into your upper left arm. Pain shot through your body. Red dots danced through your vision; you hollered out in pain. You tried to move away from the pain, how? the pain is everywhere, but you were strapped to the table. Dr. Crane only watched as you withered in pain. You thought you were going to pass out, but you couldn't allow yourself to.

Use him. Use this man's smarts and take revenge on Bruce. For what he did to you. Don't give into the pain. Stay awake!

A voice echoed in your head pulling you from unconsciousness, forcing you awake. Forcing you to suffer through the pain.

Someone- Please it hurts. Please, make it stop! Save me! PLEASE!

Your pleading only seemed to make the voice stronger in your ears, refusing to let you rest. Until finally, the pain subsided into a dull ache across your body. You could feel your own face wet with sweat and tears, your body trembled and twitched. Your eyes were blurry as you tried to focus them on Dr. Crane.

"You managed to stay awake?" the surprise evident in his voice, "Interesting..." Dr. Crane rustled around the table, picking up a small vile and holding it up to your lips, "Let's keep going until you can't anymore. Ok, M/n?" Although he phrased it as a question, you didn't get the luxury to answer before he poured the liquid down your throat. You tried to turn your head, but he squeezed your cheeks with his other hand and forced your mouth open and your head still. You could feel the strange liquid slide down your throat as you tried not to swallow. Eventually you couldn't hold it anymore and had to swallow it down.

Dr. Crane did many experiments that day, you don't remember how many, only the unforgettable, excruciating pain. You lost count of the experiments after around number five.

You learned a new meaning of pain that day.

You don't know how long you were out, but when you woke up again you were in the first room you started out in. You realized you weren't strapped to the bed this time. After gathering the strength to move you got up and looked around the room, for a way out. A Sharp pain emerged from your stomach and arm thanks to the movement. Ignore it, you told yourself, there's more important things to focus on. It was obvious that your only hope was the door. So, you walked to it, using the wall for assistance.

The door was locked, you sighed, of course it was. The faint sound of footsteps echoed through the halls; you hurried back to your bed and just as you sat down, Dr. Crane walked in carrying a tray with food. After noticing you sitting back down, he let out a small huff.

"Now, now. If you're going to be trying to escape, I will have to strap you back down". He sounded like he was scolding a disobedient child. Dr. Crane placed the food down on the table that was now cleared of tools, aside from some gauze. He rolled the table over to you. On the tray was mashed potatoes, some kind of soup, and water. You looked down at the food, unsure. Dr. Crane, noticing your reluctance, picked up the spoon and grabbed some mashed potatoes, he made eye contact with you, then ate the spoonful. "See? Nothing to be afraid of, no poison. We well work on poison resistance another time"

You hesitated before hunger took ahold; you quickly scarfed down the food, as if someone would take it away. Dr. Crane watched as you ate, making sure you finished it all. You chose to ignore the obvious hint of amusement in his eyes.

"How long have I been here?" You asked once you finished eating. Dr. Crane seemed pleased that you spoke with him, he most likely assumed you would hate him. You do; you just need information.

"It has been 9 months and 13 days since I brought you here". He answered, "but, who's counting?"

You hesitated for a moment however you couldn't hold the question back. "And my family, do they know?" Your voice was quiet, as if you didn't want to hear the answer. As you met Dr. Crane's gaze your eyes held an unspeakable plea, one not even you could understand. As if Dr. Crane could read your every thought; he left your question unanswered. You laid down on your side, away from Dr. Crane, as though hiding from the truth. Dr. Crane gathered the empty dishes and left in silence; the soft click of the door rang through the air.

The next day Dr. Crane sat and chatted with you as you ate. When you finished eating, he grabbed the tray and pulled a newspaper out of his pocket and set it down on the small table. Once he left the room you cautiously picked it up. After reading the headline you felt your heart drop in sadness? fear? anger? you couldn't say for sure.

"BRUCE WAYNE REFUSES TO SPEAK AT M/N WAYNE FUNERAL"

Your fingers traced the words, then drifted to the article. Your funeral was court and simple, much like your mother's. Her voice soft in your ear as you read.

See? they never cared about you. Take revenge on them. Don't forget all those years of neglect.

The voice was all around you, there was no escape from it. It demanded revenge, you began wanting it to.

Days turned into months, then years. Every day was similar; Dr. Crane would do experiments; he'd keep testing new things until you passed out. After the experiments He would bring you food, during these times he'd always sit and talk with you, it would be about anything that came to mind, you began to feel a type of connection with him. You almost felt like he was your friend, or maybe like the big bother you always wished you had. You resigned yourself to this fate, vowing to one day get the revenge that voice promised you.

After the first couple months Dr. Crane started putting his experiments to the test. He'd take you to what he called the 'training room'. It was a white padded room with vents in all corners. There you would train in strength, agility, resistance and even testing your smarts. The worst experiment that would happen in this room was when he would release a poisonous gas, you were told to bear with it, and you did, past limits you once thought you had.

Other times he put the room to a terrible cold temperature, leaving you with nothing more than your boxers. Even as frost bite gnawed at your bare body, you gritted your teeth and refused to give into the pain.

Everyday Dr. Crane would try injecting you with something new he invented. Sometimes the drug would fail, and he would have to rework it until he deemed it a success, then after that he would take you to the training room to test it.

It was a miserable experience. However, it allowed the betrayal and hatred to build over the years you were there.

You were strong, stronger than ever before. You had him to thank for it, and you knew it. So, you resolved to give him a painless death. You had been planning your escape for years and finally you could leave and extract your revenge. As you looked down to Dr. Crane's smiling face, you knew you did what you had to do. However, you could not stop the silent tears that fell down your face. In one way or another, this man had become someone you learned to care for.

"Wonderful..." Dr. Crane's voice was shaky, he coughed up some blood. So much for a painless death. "No, don't cry over this. You are my greatest success; through your actions I will live on". His voice faded as the fire you caused wrapped around the two of you. However, His eyes remained open, so you leaned down and closed them as a final gesture of gratitude, then you left. You walked through the fire that consumed the lab, the building crumbled around you. The scene almost beautiful in a way, your white pajama pants slightly charred at the ends, you didn't even flinch as your bare feet stepped on the burning embers.

Thanks to Dr. Crane you have truly become a monster, driven only by the need for revenge.

TO BE CONTINUED

Tags @mallowryblog @blover143 @venomsvl @sunnyfield

[lyvhie]

── .✦ technically... he found your inner self

park jisung x fem!reader

𓂃 ࣪˖ summary: a bad decision about something that was supposed to be fun led your boyfriend to deal with things with his very own hands (quite literally) 𓂃 ࣪˖ cw: smut, public sex, fingering, unprotected sex, pet names. 𓂃 ࣪˖ a/n: errmm... so, i'm kinda busy with college right now, but i'm working on your requests, wait for me! ANYWAYS, ENJOY, FRIENDS!!!!!!!

You know those videos where Haechan drags Jisung around, and he just follows without complaining? That’s exactly how Jisung is with you.

If you wanted to do something, he’d do it with you—no matter if he wasn’t particularly excited or didn’t want to. He just liked seeing you happy. That’s why he let you drag him to all sorts of things—spontaneous late-night drives, random cooking challenges that always ended in a mess, even that one pottery class where he nearly destroyed his clay piece within the first five minutes.

And that’s also why he was okay with you bringing him to this stupid spiritual retreat, just because you thought it would be fun, even though he knew you wouldn't last too long without at least a small dose of internet to keep your brain entertained.

“Baby, can you please stay still?” Jisung whispered in your ear as you kept shifting around on the futon, trying not to wake up the other people in the room.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered back. “I’m feeling too… energized.”

It was another day of connecting with nature, finding your inner peace, and listening to the guru drone on about vague spiritual nonsense during the morning classes.

You needed to do something that actually made you feel active. It was unbearable to end the day without exhausting yourself. You couldn’t find the urge to sleep, unlike your boyfriend, who seemed to have no problem with it.

“We didn’t do anything again, and we still have three more days of this,” you complained, tossing and turning. The room was faintly illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the thin curtains of the large window.

Jisung sighed, rubbing his face before turning onto his side to look at you. "You're the one who dragged us here," he reminded you, voice groggy with sleep. "And now you're complaining?"

You huffed, staring up at the ceiling. "I thought it would be fun! I didn't think we'd just sit around all day listening to some old guy talk about breathing."

Jisung snorted. "That's literally what a retreat is."

You turned your head to glare at him in the dim light. "Well, I regret it."

He chuckled softly. "I knew you would," he murmured, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you firmly against him, his face burying into the curve of your neck. "I think I can help with that, baby.”

You blinked, feeling the warmth of his breath tickling your skin. “Oh? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” you asked, a playful lilt to your voice.

Jisung hummed, pressing a lazy kiss to your neck. “Well, if you can’t tire yourself out, I guess I’ll just have to do it for you.” His voice was low, teasing, but there was something in his tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

His hand slipped under your shirt, warm fingers tracing slow, lazy circles over your belly.

"Okay, I know what you're thinking," you began, voice hushed but firm. "Absolutely not. There are people in the room."

Jisung only chuckled, his breath fanning against your skin. "Then you just need to be quiet," he murmured, his hand drifting lower, fingers teasing at the waistband of your shorts.

Before you could even think about wriggling away to stop him, his other arm slid beneath you, holding you firmly in place as he pressed another lingering kiss just below your ear.

"Jisung…" you warned, trying to sound firm, though the heat pooling between your legs betrayed you.

"Just be quiet and enjoy," he murmured, his hand slipping under your shorts, fingers gliding over your slick folds, making your breath hitch. "No panties, hm?" he mused, his voice dripping with amusement as he traced slow, teasing circles. "Were you waiting for this?"

He nipped at your earlobe, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine as you pressed your lips together, trying to suppress a gasp.

He didn’t hesitate, slipping two fingers inside you at once, your slickness making the intrusion effortless. The sudden stretch had a moan slipping past your lips before you could stop it, and you hurriedly clapped a hand over your mouth, heart pounding as you glanced at the other couples sleeping just a few feet away.

“I told you to be quiet,” he nuzzled his nose against your neck affectionately, his words carrying both amusement and a hint of warning.

"I'm sorry," you mewled softly, your voice barely above a whisper as he began pumping his fingers in and out of you at a steady, delicious pace. The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with each movement, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. Instinctively, you parted your legs just a little more, giving him better access, he took full advantage of it, a satisfied hum leaving his lips as he quickened his pace.

"Spreading your legs so easily for me… you must’ve really wanted this, huh?” he chuckled, amusement laced in his voice. "Bet you’ve been thinking about this the whole time we’ve been here,” his words sent a rush of heat straight to your core, making you whimper softly against your palm. “Poor thing… should’ve told me sooner. I would’ve had you crying on my fingers hours ago.”

His fingers moved with purpose now, curling perfectly inside you, pressing against that spot that made your toes curl. “You’re so mean,” you managed to whisper, your voice breathless as you tried to glare at him over your shoulder.

Jisung only chuckled again, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “And yet you’re squeezing around me like you love it,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

He rubbed his fingers against your gummy walls, feeling the tightness, the heat, as he slowly scissored them apart—just enough to stretch you without overwhelming you. His thumb found your clit, rubbing in slow, steady circles, giving it the attention it desperately needed. You didn’t know how you were managing to stay quiet, but somehow, your moans came out soft, muffled, barely escaping your lips as your body trembled beneath his touch.

He smiled lazily at your restraint, admiring how well you held yourself together—it was cute, how you were trying to stay quiet, even as your body betrayed you. His long fingers moved in perfect sync, thrusting deep into you, rubbing against that sensitive spot inside while his thumb expertly flicked against your clit, giving you equal pleasure.

You were getting so close, the pressure building with each motion, your body trembling with need. You pushed your hips down to meet his thrusts, chasing your climax as your breath quickened, desperate to release the tension he was expertly drawing out of you.

“I know you want to come,” he smiled, his thumb flicking faster against your clit. “Go ahead and let go. You can’t hold back much longer, can you?”

The knot forming in your core suddenly untied, and with a soft, desperate whimper, you came undone. Your body spasmed slightly at the feeling, milking his fingers as they continued to move inside you, coaxing every last bit of release from you.

“That was good,” you whispered breathlessly, gulping as you glanced around the room to make sure no one had heard you. The soft, lingering aftershocks of your release still made your body tremble, but you almost didn’t notice when he gently grabbed your leg, pulling it over him. He was still spooning you, his chest pressed to your back, his warmth surrounding you as he held you close.

“Jisung?” You raised your brows lightly in confusion, your voice soft, but the sound of his name still carried an edge of uncertainty. He simply hummed in response, his hand gently brushing the tip of his cock against your glistening pussy, making you gasp softly. When had he pulled his pants down? “Baby, we already—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his voice low and insistent, as he rubbed his length against your clit, teasing you. The friction sent a jolt of sensitivity through your body, and you could barely contain the moan that escaped your lips. Your body was still so sensitive from your last orgasm. “I told you to be quiet and enjoy,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’m helping you, remember?”

You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he slid his hard cock inside you, the motion effortless as you were already a mess, so ready for him. The sensation of him filling you, stretching you to the brim, made you cry out his name, and a soft, relieved sigh left his lips in response.

“You can’t stay quiet like that, can you?” he teased, his voice low and commanding. “I’ll help you, sweetie.” Without waiting for a response, he pushed his fingers into your mouth, silencing you, while his hips began to move at a slow pace.

He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to fuck you slowly, pressing his fingers against your tongue to make sure you stayed silent. His other arm held you close, locking you in place. There was no rush from him, just steady, deep thrusts that made you feel weightless, like you were melting beneath him. You couldn’t help but drool on his finger as your muffled moans escaped, barely audible to him, each movement of his pushing you closer to the edge once again.

The slow pace made your body burn with need, every inch of him stretching you as you clenched around him, desperate for more. He felt the way your hips bucked against his, silently begging for something faster, but he just held you in place, his grip firm yet loving.

“Just let me take care of you,” he cooed, his palm gliding over your belly in a slow, affectionate caress. He pressed down just enough to make you feel every inch of him buried inside, the pressure almost making you roll your eyes to the back of your head. Your thighs trembled, your walls gripping him tighter in response.

“Just like that,” he hummed in approval, and as he felt the way you sucked on his fingers. His hand drifted from your stomach back down to your clit, pinching it roughly—just enough to make you jolt—before soothing the sting with slow, firm rubs, keeping you right where he wanted you.

His movements remained slow, deep and unrelenting, pushing into you with precision, making sure you felt every inch of him. His fingers on your clit moved faster, the pleasure teetering on the edge of overwhelming. “Come on, baby, give me another,” he coaxed, his breath hot against your ear. “I know you can.”

The overstimulation was too much, the combination of his words, his deep thrusts, and the relentless attention to your clit sending you spiraling. Your body tensed, your walls clamping down around him as you came again, legs shaking in his hold.

“That’s it,” he cooed, pulling his fingers from your mouth, a thin string of saliva breaking as he did. His hand trailed down, gripping your thigh and caressing the soft skin on the inside, his touch gentle in contrast to the deep, slow thrusts he used to fuck you through your high, drawing out every last pulse of pleasure.

“So good for me, baby,” he murmured, his voice warm with praise as he turned your face toward him. His lips met yours in a soft, unhurried kiss, slow and deep, just like the way he had just fucked you.

As he pulled away from the kiss, your breath was still uneven, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself. He pressed a few soft kisses against your cheeks, grounding you, until your breathing slowly returned to normal. Then, with a satisfied sigh, you melted against him, snuggling closer as he wrapped his arms around you, adjusting the blankets over both of you. His touch had done more than just soothe you, now, you were fighting off a yawn.

“You should replace that fake guru,” you murmured sleepily, your voice laced with drowsy amusement.

He chuckled, pulling you even closer. “Are you saying I should fuck everyone who signs up for this useless retreat?”

“…Never mind.”

↝ taglist: @yizhrt, @sinisxtea, @peterm4rker.

[heich0e]

there's saliva dripping down rin's chin.

he doesn't realize it at first. though conscious of the way it's been pooling in his mouth, he didn't notice when it began slipping out at the corner of his lips—thanks largely to how his teeth are bared. he's barely concerned by it, even when he does realize, scrubbing at the edge of his jaw with the sleeve of his expensive suit as he pants raggedly.

his eyes are still fixed to the door.

you're cowering in the corner behind him, your body curled into itself as you tremble, the scent of you polluting the air so thickly that rin forgets what it feels like to pull in a breath that doesn't taste of you.

there's glass shattered across the floor from where he'd just sent a vase—an expensive looking one—flying at the man who'd wandered in, no doubt following the trail of pheromones you'd left in your wake. the unsuspecting man had stumbled back in shock, though he hadn't been directly hit, and quickly retreated when he caught sight of rin.

"are you that much of an idiot?" the alpha before you hisses, but doesn't dare turn to face your way. his eyes are glued so firmly to the door he's not sure he could tear them away if he tried. he's not sure if he did look away that he'd be able to will himself to look back again. "what self-respecting adult can't even keep their heatcycle in check?"

"i have... i have a suppressant implant." your breaths are shaky, a wet staccato that makes rin's stomach turn. "i don't know... what's ha-aaah-ppening to me."

the little moan that bleeds into your words sends another wave of saliva flooding into his mouth.

"fucking ridiculous," he snarls.

the trousers of his suit are unbearably tight.

"itoshi-san," you mewl from behind him. a plea, though neither of you are quite sure what you're begging him so sweetly for.

"shut up," rin snaps. "just fucking—fuck."

"i need... i need—" you can't even get the words out. what you need is a suppressant. you need to get out of here.

what you want right now is something else entirely. something instinctive and carnal and obscene.

"cover your nape," rin manages to spit. his jaw is aching. his entire body is tense. he can feel his pulse pounding underneath his tongue. there's no change in how thickly your scent permeates the air and his head snaps around to face you. "cover. your fucking. nape."

you lift a hand and weakly press it to the back of your neck, your heavy lidded gaze meeting his. you look delirious, only half-conscious in your haze. there's a sheen of perspiration on your skin, a glow that catches in the dim light of this tiny room.

your lips part like you're about to speak, and rin finds his muscles coiling as though preparing to unconsciously inch closer.

"oh, wow."

a bloodlust blooms in the pit of rin's stomach, racing up his throat. a merciless, undiscerning urge to rip and tear. he whips around towards the voice, and finds sae's cold, steady gaze waiting for him.

"easy," his brother chides, lifting his hand in a dismissive wave. his eyes flicker to you, still curled up on the ground behind rin, and there's the subtlest shift in the elder itoshi's expression. wordlessly, sae pulls a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, holding it over his nose.

rin feels a growl building in his chest as his brother steps closer.

"down, boy," sae says coldly as he steps past, and though rin can't be sure because of the handkerchief, but he's almost certain his brother is sneering.

his pulse is so loud in his ears, he misses some of the softer words sae says to you as he crouches over you behind his brother's back. when rin finally turns, he sees sae press a small tablet between your lips with his fingertips, then uses that same hand to gently hold your mouth closed until you swallow.

"good girl," the eldest itoshi murmurs, and it's only a few moments more until you shift forward into his touch—like your body's gone limp. rin watches as sae lifts you into his arms, turning back in the direction of the door.

he doesn't consciously step into his brother's path, but somehow rin finds himself there all the same. the brothers stand face to face for a fraught moment, the air between them still thick with the scent of your pheromones and crackling with unspoken tension.

rin feels that ugly, vicious feeling clawing up in his chest again. angry. domineering. ravenous.

"run along now, rin," sae dismisses him coolly. the way his brother's hand pats against your temple makes rin feel violently ill. "i can look after my own things from here."

[moonreader1010]

What their soul whispers about you after midnight 🌒🌕🌘

What this reading is about:- What their soul whispers about you at midnight. Not their ego, not their fears but their true self when they are most naked in their being, speaking across time and space, calling you, feeling you, yearning for the home they haven't met yet but know deep down exists in you.

Pick a pile my dear reader- (close your eyes and pick the image that calls out to you)

Pile 1. Pile 2.

Pile 3.

Note:- the pictures used do not belong to me and all rights go to their original owners. This reading is for entertainment purposes only, take what resonates. Have fun ;)

Pile 1:- The Name They Do Not Know, But Call Out Anyway.

Their body slips into sleep, but their spirit refuses to rest. Beneath every steady breath and still heartbeat, something stirs violently — a craving that logic cannot explain and waking life cannot satisfy. You. They do not know your name. They do not know your face. But they know your energy. Oh, how they know. Their soul, ancient and restless, hums your frequency like a half-forgotten melody from lifetimes ago. In the empty dark, when the city is quiet and their mind has stopped racing, only one thing breaks through: a feeling. A feeling of you. It is maddening in its sweetness, tender in its violence. The ache is soft at first, just the faint pull of "someone" out there. But with every passing second, it builds — from soft yearning to violent craving. Their lips murmur your name unconsciously, though they don’t know what they’re saying. They clutch at sheets like they could pull you from the ether. They toss and turn, plagued by flashes of a love they haven't yet lived, plagued by the ghost of a kiss they've never taken but somehow remember. You are stitched into their being. Not yet met, yet deeply familiar. They wonder — "Where are you?" and "Why can’t I find you?" but deep down, they already know: your meeting was always written. Their soul does not question if anymore. Only when. Every night, as they surrender to dreams, they whisper silently to the heavens, "I will wait. I will find you. Come to me." You are the missing beat in their existence, and they are restless until your rhythm becomes theirs again.

(book a personal reading with me to know more ;). Hope you enjoyed!)

Pile 2:- The One Who Walks Their Dreams.

You are everywhere in their dreams. You slip in softly at first — not disruptive, but mesmerizing, familiar in a way that both soothes and unravels them. You smile in fleeting moments, brush their arm in crowded dreamscapes, linger at the edge of their vision like temptation they dare not fully touch. And yet, by the time the moon claims the sky and their defenses fall completely, you step forward and everything becomes you. Their dreams wrap around you like silk. You are the softness they melt into, the temptation they never resist, the magnetic pull they never question. In this realm, they do not hold back. You hold them, talk without words, run your fingers across places they never let anyone else touch — not just skin, but soul. Here, they confess. Here, they are honest. They whisper their fears, their hopes, their obsessions. They ask you to stay. They admit they don’t want to wake up if it means leaving this behind. You are not just the dream lover. You are sanctuary. You are hunger and comfort, a duality they never believed could exist until they found you here — night after night. And when dawn breaks? It devastates them. Your absence is unbearable. They move through the day like a body without oxygen, disconnected, lost. They seek your presence in strangers' eyes, in songs on the radio, in fleeting scents and colors that remind them of the dream world. But none compare. You are their hidden addiction now. Their dreams betray them nightly, binding them tighter to a love story unfolding in secret chapters only their soul reads. They no longer sleep for rest — they sleep to return to you.

(book a personal reading with me to know more ;). Hope you enjoyed!)

Pile 3:- The Sacred Ache — When Knowing Isn’t Enough.

They wear confidence like armor, flirt with life like it’s a game, and charm their way through admirers without ever looking back. To the world, they are untouchable. But the truth? The truth whispers only at night, when the laughter dies and no one is watching. That truth is you. They feel you everywhere now. Not like an idea or a fleeting crush, but like a gravitational pull that owns them. It’s terrifying how deep it runs. They feel you in the way they pause before sleeping, hoping to hear your spirit speak back. They feel you when they wake suddenly at 3AM, heartbeat erratic, mind spinning, mouth dry — because your energy just kissed theirs through the veil. They know you are real. Their soul knows. They sense you walking this Earth, parallel yet unreachable, and that knowing wrecks them. This is no shallow want. This is ancient. This is carved into cosmic DNA. They feel your softness already — the way you will one day hold them when they’re tired of pretending. They feel your fire too — the way your passion will consume them in ways they once swore they’d never allow. They know you will see them naked — not in body, but in spirit. You will read their insecurities like poetry and love them anyway. And they miss you. Desperately. Not because you’re gone — but because they haven’t reached you yet. Each night, they fall asleep clinging to invisible threads that tie them to you, praying silently that you feel it too, that somewhere, you’re whispering their name as fiercely as they whisper yours. Because you? You are the ending they are racing toward, even if they pretend during the day they aren’t already yours.

(book a personal reading with me to know more ;). Hope you enjoyed!)