#couldn’t get through the game without him

[joeyfranchise]

do you picture me?

joe burrow x fem!reader

summary: after dealing with the aftermath of a bad day at work, lingering frustrations from a fight with joe and him being gone due to an away game… you find yourself pent up and needing relief. little do you know, joe’s feeling the exact same way.

warnings: explicit sexual content, 18+ only. mdni. (masturbation (m&f), lewd images… etc.)

word count: 3.2k.

note: i had this idea while listening to picture you by chappell roan!! :) ily ily as always commentary, asks & feedback welcome!!

you hated being so pent up, feeling so close to the edge like this.

nothing had gone your way for nearly a week and it was all becoming too much, you were ready to break-through this horrible funk you’d sunk into and get back to feeling normal. you wanted to leave work, go home, get comfortable, and talk to joe.

unfortunately, your boyfriend was away from home for a game, and the two of you hadn’t been on the best terms when he left.

the fight you had was the catalyst for your bad week, and although it was over something pointless that you could barely remember now, you and joe were both too stubborn to apologize to one another. he ended up leaving for the game without so much as a goodbye, and he’d only pinged you with his location when the team made their arrival to pittsburgh, home of one of their divisional rivals.

you sent back a petty thumbs up even though you were dying to talk to him, and somewhere over on the east coast joe’s fingers were flexing by his phone… he was seconds away from breaking too.

the next day you were swamped with work, endless reports to file and countless calls to take and it sucked every ounce of energy from your body. you left work feeling exhausted, your lids heavy as you slid into the driver’s seat of your car and started it before heading home.

you’d made it home safely and you knew you needed to cook dinner, but you were parched. you pulled a gallon of milk from the fridge and untwisted the cap, ignoring the bit of crust that fell off when you pulled it away. you brought the jug to your lips and took a hefty swig - something you wouldn’t normally do - and you immediately wretched. it was sour.

you slammed the jug down on the counter and ran to the bathroom, practically throwing yourself over the toilet as you started to gag from the congealed dairy you almost swallowed. needless to say, that did you in for the night.

you woke the next morning still feeling nauseous, and tacking on the sadness of an empty bed next to you and a dry phone on your bedside table was the icing on the proverbial cake. you slowly rolled out of bed and made your way to the kitchen to at least make coffee, forgetting you’d left the already sour milk out on the counter overnight.

you quickly disposed of it before trudging back to your room to get dressed to go out and grab a coffee, because you couldn’t make it at home without milk.

heading over to your favorite local coffee shop gave you a much needed serotonin boost, and your drink was delicious, but your spirit was torn right back down when your favorite barista handed you two chocolate chip cookies - the thing you and joe always came here for.

it stung immediately, knowing you hadn’t talked in a few days. you were so close to caving and you missed him horribly, but you also hated admitting you were wrong, so it was a sticky situation all around. you thanked her and headed out to your car, eager to get back home and tidy up the house before resuming your much needed bed-rotting session.

—

once you arrived back home you began cleaning immediately, knocking out the pesky dishes first and then focusing on your other tasks like folding laundry, sweeping, and dusting.

your cleaning playlist was set to shuffle, and the loud music flowing through the areas of the house you had your attention on helped your mood improve. you danced and sang along, swaying your body to the rhythm as you worked to tidy everything up, which took way less time than you expected.

you had long since finished your coffee, and when you looked at the clock on the stove you realized only a few hours had passed, giving you more free time in your evening than you knew what to do with.

you decided on taking an everything shower, hoping the hot stream would help you release some of that tension you’d been holding so tightly in your back and shoulders. you quickly rushed to the bathroom and took off your clothes, placing them neatly in the basket next to the shower door before turning the water on. you opened a drawer next to the sink and grabbed out a eucalyptus scented shower steamer and tossed the tiny puck inside before stepping in yourself.

the comforting scent of eucalyptus enveloped you immediately. you stepped under the shower head and let the hot water run down your body, soothing over the tensed muscles of your back and neck. first, you made sure your hair was well saturated before squeezing some of your favorite shampoo into your hands and lathering it in, scratching your nails over your scalp in a relaxing manner. once you were satisfied with that you rinsed it before raking conditioner through your ends and slowly rinsing it out moments later.

as you squirted some of your coconut scented body wash onto your loofah, you let your mind slip to joe… and what he’d done to you in this shower just before your fight, just before he left for pennsylvania. you tried to push the thoughts from your mind as you washed your body off, but it was hard once your movements traced over places where his hands had been.

it was almost like you could still feel the phantom of his lips against the shell of your ear, whispering dirty things to you.

“you’re so beautiful like this, all for me.”

“that’s it baby, just like that. look how well you’re taking me.”

standing under a burning hot stream was how you found yourself now, yet still, you shivered. you quickly finished scrubbing your skin and rinsed yourself off, using every bit of willpower you had to push joe from your mind… but your resolve was slipping.

he was overtaking you.

you decided to cut the shower short, you didn’t really need a shave anyway. what you needed was to do your skincare, dry your hair, make dinner and maybe even read some. those things always helped you relax, and you needed a distraction to push him from your mind.

you turned the water off and stepped out of the shower and quickly grabbed your towel, wrapping it around your dripping body as you shivered slightly. you stepped closer to the mirror and looked down at all your skincare products laid out before you in the basket you always kept by the sink, but you couldn’t bring yourself to start your normal routine. your mind still lingered on joe. you wanted to push it away… but you couldn’t. you were still thinking of the way his hands felt against your skin that morning when he’d pushed you against the wall under the water, the way he’d kissed and nipped at your neck as he lifted you up and filled you as he helped you wrap your legs around his waist.

the calloused pads of his fingers had traced every inch of your body, running along your curves as he took you apart, his strong tight grip held you into place as he unraveled you against the tile wall. you felt every single inch of him with every thrust and… oh. you’re starting to feel hot.

you could feel the heat pooling between your legs as you stood in front of the mirror completely zoned out, staring off into space as you thought about joe more and more. fuck skincare too.

you quickly exited the bathroom and made sure the blinds were drawn as you stepped back into your room, holding the towel tightly against your naked frame. once you were satisfied with the darkness in the room - not too dark but with no lights on, and faint shadows along the walls from your dark curtains - you dried your skin as fast as you could, your body now covered in gooseflesh.

you wrapped your hair up in a different towel and walked to the closet, searching for a box you kept on one of the shelves by your shoes. a giddy feeling bubbled up in your stomach and spread over your body as you searched for it, you hadn’t done this in ages… but based on the way you were feeling and the thoughts you were having about joe… you needed it.

you located the box and stretched up to grab it, eagerly pulling it down from the shelf and carrying it back into the room before placing it on the bedside table where you’d also left your phone.

inside the box were several long unscented candles encased in glass, you only used them for rare occasions like this when you needed to set the mood. you pulled them out gingerly along with the lighter you kept in the box, and you placed the candles on top of the nightstands next to both sides of the bed before lighting them.

you shivered with excitement before moving the box to the floor and dropping your towel, then hopping up onto the bed. 

in the drawers of the table next to you there were many toys from an experiment you and joe tried once, and though nothing was as good as the real thing, you thought about using one of them for your escapade… you grabbed out a small blue bullet vibrator and placed it on the nightstand next to your phone  just in case you needed some extra help. 

you shimmied up the bed until your back was pressed against the headboard, and then you took a deep breath. you let your eyes flutter shut as you began to trace your hands along your skin, goosebumps still covering your body. you imagined they were joe’s hands skimming the expanse of your body, that joe’s thumb and forefinger were tweaking your nipple, not your own.

in your mind’s eye you could see him clear as day, hovering above you with that sultry look in his bright blue eyes, smirk plastered across his perfectly pink lips. you pictured him running his hands along your thighs, fingers tracing and squeezing the meaty flesh, just as you were now. 

you began to visualize the things he’d done to you in the shower again but… that wouldn’t be enough. you needed to think of something else. your mind drifted off to all kinds of places, all sorts of predicaments you’d been in with joe where you had to be quiet, how he’d once held a hand over your mouth at the bengals facility while he stuffed you full by the showers. you were so afraid of getting caught yet so thrilled at the same time. 

you slid your right hand down your body slowly and the left continued to play with your breast, groping and squeezing and pinching just as joe would if he was here. you were shivering with excitement as your fingers reached your entrance, and you scooped up some of your arousal with your fingertips before slowly dragging them back up to circle your clit. 

the next thing that came to mind was the first time you’d brought joe back to your hometown to meet your parents, after dinner he’d whisked you away to your room, eager to have his hands all over you. his lips were instantly pressed to your neck as soon as you’d crossed the threshold of your old bedroom. 

he’d pulled you into him immediately, his plump lips quickly finding the sweet spot just below your ear as he worked to draw a wanton moan from your lips, one that had your eyes widening as soon as it fell from your gaping maw. you struggled to close the door behind you, but you couldn’t let your parents see or hear this. joe laughed at you then, he always thought you looked cute when you were flustered, especially in a sexual sense. he pulled you over to the bed once the door was securely closed, and he’d made you promise to be quiet for him. you’d have no trouble with that, you reminded him. you were just worried he would be too loud. he only smirked at you before kneeling near the foot of your small twin sized mattress, his fingers looping into the waistband of your pants as he pulled them down quickly along with your panties. 

he eyed you hungrily as he looked you over, his eyes almost laser focused on your already dripping wet core. you had wondered what he was waiting for, he was eyeing you so hungrily and you were ready for him to bury his face between your legs, to devour you. 

his gaze moved past you, he was now staring at something beside you. you turned your head confused, but your eyes met the stuffed bear you’d had almost your entire childhood. joe stood for a second and grabbed the bear, turning him so his back was facing you. “mr. wiggles doesn’t need to see this,” he laughed, getting back into his spot at the foot of your bed. his arms hooked around your legs as he pulled you down the bed, and he wasted no time burying his face in you, slurping and sucking at your clit as your hands moved to cover your mouth, loud moans threatening to pour from your lips. 

you snapped back to the present moment as your fingers continued to circle your clit quickly, your body shivering from the sheer pleasure you were experiencing. it never felt as good as it did with joe, but pleasure was surely radiating over your body now. 

you reached down with your other hand, looping your arm underneath your thigh, and pressed two fingers slowly into yourself. you gasped at the pleasure, your left leg was pressed up to your chest so you could fuck your fingers in and out of yourself as your right hand continued to tease your sensitive nub. 

if joe was here he’d be praising you, he’d be worshiping your body. 

“look how good you’re doing, baby. you’re taking it so well.” 

“my pretty girl, always do such a good job for me. you were made to take me like this, huh?” 

his lips would be pressed to your ear, his words a mixture of sweet nothings and simultaneously the dirtiest things you’d ever heard. you imagined his fingers working you to the edge instead of your own, slamming into you and bringing you to the brink. 

you thought about all the things he’d do if he found you in the predicament, your body slightly sweaty, wet hair wrapped in a towel as you pressed yourself farther into the headboard while your hands worked you closer and closer to your orgasm.

all for him. because of him. 

you imagined him standing in the doorway, arms crossed as he smirked at you and… oh, that did it. your orgasm hit you instantaneously, the pleasure blinding as you felt yourself clenching on your own fingers. it made you feel a little drunk, experiencing your peak in both ways. you moaned his name as you came, calling out to him in a plea he wouldn’t hear until he was back home, until you could apologize in person and he could pound you into the mattress himself. 

you pulled your sticky fingers from your core and wiped them against your sheets, something you’d normally care a lot about… right now, it didn’t matter. you grabbed your phone from your nightstand and opened the camera before sliding down the bed, lying there against the pillows. 

you posed for the photo so that joe could see your right hand still between your legs, fingertips still slowly dancing across your now overly sensitive clit. you hoped he’d be able to see the sheen of sweat across your abdomen, and your pert nipples as you pressed your arm against your tits to give him a better view. 

you snapped the photo and opened your messages, frowning as you clicked on the thread and the last thing you saw was the thumbs up you’d sent. you added the image and typed him a quick message before hitting send. 

you: i miss you a lot and i’m sorry. hurry back home 🥲 

you locked your phone after double-checking the photo and message, you wanted to make sure it sounded right. you placed it back on your nightstand and you rolled over, burying your face in the pillows. you were spent after all of that work, and your eyes slowly closed as your breathing slowed and you fell into a light slumber. 

— 

joe grabbed the keycard from his pocket, quickly sliding it into the door and pulling it out before twisting the handle and stepping inside. he slid his shoes off and went straight for the bed, plopping down flat on his back as he stared up at the ceiling.

team dinner was nice, but the conversations droned on and he was exhausted, and he was missing you. he’d told himself all week that he wouldn’t come to you first, that he’d either wait until he was home to apologize or wait until you texted or called him, but his resolve was slipping. 

he needed you. he needed to touch your soft, perfumed skin. he needed to press his lips to every inch of your body… but also also needed you because the game was tomorrow night, and he didn’t think he could do it without one of your pep talks. he knew you knew that too, but he didn’t want to push it in case you were still mad at him. he grabbed his phone from his pocket and his heart lurched as he saw the notification, you’d sent him a message a little over an hour ago. 

he quickly unlocked his phone and immediately the breath was knocked from him as he saw the lewd image you’d attached, with a message about missing him. his anxieties flew out the window, replaced by an incessant desire for you. it was carnal, he knew he had to do everything he could now to win that game and get home to you, to take you apart and put you right back together afterwards as he often did. 

he could feel his erection already growing in his pants, and with his eyes fixated on the image you’d sent he slowly reached his hand past the waistband and wrapped his fingers around his already painfully hard cock. he flicked his wrist one, two, three times as a soft moan fell past his pink lips, and his eyes fixated on the call button at the top of the screen. fuck it, he thought. he pressed it and brought the phone to his ear to listen to it ring. 

after the fifth ring he thought he should hang up, he’d have to use his imagination to get himself there… but then he heard an open line, and your beautiful yet groggy voice greeted him. 

“hello?” you asked, softly and innocently, but he knew you knew why he called. “baby,” he breathed out, his voice desperate as he continued to stroke himself. you giggled and he hissed, knowing he was fucked. he heard you clear your throat before responding, his hand never stilling on his cock. 

“is there something i can help you with?”

photos and dividers are not mine. all cred to owners.

taglist: @joeyburrrow @starsinthesky5 @joeyb1989 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @bengals-barnesbabe @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @slimshiesty @yelenasbraid @definitelynotdomanique

[cheeseatlantic]

fuck you im too lazy to find a new banner… anyways content warning because this babygirk is DARKKKK 🤤🤤🤤 if ur into that me too babe.

minores do nawt! interact plsplspls

NO WHERE TO RUN

You knew you were playing with fire.

All day, you had been teasing him—innocent little touches, batting your lashes, making sly comments. Testing the limits of his patience. And then, at the bar, you pushed too far. You’d let another man get too close, let his hand rest on your thigh for just a second too long. You hadn’t even looked at Ghost when you did it, but you felt his gaze burning into you.

Now, you were in the backseat of his truck, trapped between the worn leather seats and the sheer size of him.

And he was pissed.

“You think I’m fuckin’ stupid?” His voice was a low growl, his breath hot against your ear.

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could get a word out, his hand was around your throat, tight. Not enough to truly hurt, but enough to remind you who you belonged to.

“I should leave you here,” he muttered, squeezing just a little. “Leave you aching, all worked up, since you clearly want some other man to handle you.”

You whimpered, shaking your head. “N-No, I—”

“Shut the fuck up.” His grip tightened, cutting off whatever excuse you were about to give. His other hand yanked up your skirt, fingers brushing over your soaked panties. His laugh was low, mocking.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

And then he tore them—ripped the lace clean off, tossing it aside like it was nothing.

“Pathetic little slut,” he murmured, voice dark with amusement. “Drippin’ all over yourself just from me puttin’ you in your place.”

You shivered, pressing your thighs together, desperate for friction. But Ghost wasn’t having that. His hand forced your legs apart, his fingers stroking through your slick folds, spreading you open.

“Bet you’d let anyone touch you like this, wouldn’t you?” His voice was venomous. “Actin’ like a fuckin’ cocktease, lettin’ men put their hands on you.”

“N-No—just you, only you,” you gasped, arching against his touch.

“Damn right, only me.”

Without warning, he thrust two fingers inside you, curling them in a way that had you sobbing his name.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered, scissoring them, stretching you. “Been too busy playin’ your little games to let me fuck this needy little cunt, huh?”

You whined, bucking against his hand, but that only made him chuckle darkly.

“So desperate,” he mused, pulling his fingers out just to slap them against your clit. You jerked, a whimper spilling from your lips. “You don’t get to act like a brat all fuckin’ day and expect me to be gentle with you.”

And then, before you could beg, he was lining himself up and slamming into you with one brutal thrust.

You screamed, fingers scrambling for purchase on the leather seats, but he didn’t give you time to adjust. He set a punishing pace, using you, fucking you like he was trying to make you feel every inch of him.

“Mine,” he growled against your ear, his grip on your throat tightening again. “This fuckin’ body—mine.”

You couldn’t do anything but take it, let him pound into you, let him ruin you completely.

The car rocked with the force of it, windows fogging, Ghost’s breath heavy against your skin. His free hand found your hip, gripping hard enough to bruise as he forced you back onto his cock.

“Not so fuckin’ mouthy now, are you?” he taunted.

You could barely think, let alone speak, but that wasn’t good enough for him. His hand left your throat, only to grab a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he growled.

“You,” you sobbed. “Only you— Simon, please—”

“Damn right.”

And when you came, hard and fast around him, trembling from overstimulation, he just groaned, pressing his weight down on you as he fucked you through it.

“You don’t get to tap out, sweetheart,” he murmured darkly. “Not till I’ve had my fill.”

And judging by the look in his eyes?

He was far from done with you.

heck yeahyuh!!!

[greengoblinswifey]

Myung-gi has to prove himself to you.

You hated Lee Myung-gi.

Hated the way he sauntered around like he wasn’t a scammer, the way his lips curled into that cocky smirk whenever he saw you. Hated the way he flirted like it was second nature, like it wasn’t completely inappropriate given the circumstances. Hated him most of all for the life he had abandoned before it even had a chance to begin.

And yet, he was relentless.

“Come on,” Myung-gi drawled, leaning against the rusted metal railing beside you, that damn smirk at his lips. “You ignore me all day, and now you’re just standing here, staring into space. What’s on your mind, beautiful?”

“You really wanna know?” you asked, barely sparing him a glance.

“Of course,” he said, acting sincere. “I’m an open book.”

You scoffed. “Funny. Can you even read?”

The smirk faltered for half a second before he recovered, tilting his head with an exaggerated wince. “Ouch. You wound me.”

“Good,” you said. “You deserve worse.”

Myung-gi chuckled, undeterred. “You’re so cruel to me. It’s hot.” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower and smoother. “You know, if you’d just give me a chance—”

“A chance?” You turned to face him fully, eyes narrowing. “Fine. Prove yourself.”

“Huh?”

"You heard me," you said, folding your arms. “You talk big game, but I don’t think you have it in you. If you really want me to take you seriously, then show me.”

His gaze flickered, searching your face for any sign of a joke, but you were dead serious.

“Myung-gi,” you continued, voice calm, almost bored, “get on your knees and eat me out like your life depends on it.”

Silence, followed by a sharp inhale.

“Like my life depends on it?” he repeated, a grin spreading across his face. “Damn, sweetheart, you really know how to issue a challenge.”

“Take it or leave it,” you said.

He let out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair as he weighed his options. Then, without hesitation, he took a step closer.

“I’m gonna make you regret saying that,” he murmured.

“Not unless you disappoint me,” you shot back.

“Then I guess I’ve got a lot to prove.”

And for once, Myung-gi seemed willing to put in the effort. For once, he wasn’t talking.

He was completely focused, gripping your thighs and diving in. His mouth was hot, eager, and relentless, like a man starved, like this was something he had been dying to do for ages.

And when he finally pulled back to catch his breath, his lips were slick with your juices, eyes blown wide.

“Shit,” he panted, his grip tightening. “You taste—” He exhaled sharply, like he couldn’t even find the words. “Sweetheart, I swear to god, I’d stay down here forever if you let me.”

You didn’t respond—couldn’t, really, not with the way you gasped when he leaned back in, pressing slow, tongue kisses against your pussy.

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” he murmured between licks, dragging his lips along your pussy like he was savoring every inch. “Anything. Just say the word, and I’m yours.”

Your fingers curled into his hair, and he groaned at the contact, tilting his head up to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, intense, and utterly sincere.

“Tell me I’m doing good,” he murmured, his voice almost pleading. “Tell me you like it, that you need more.”

You did. God, you did. But you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction that easily.

“Myung-gi,” you started, voice steady despite the way your body betrayed you, “if you really want to impress me, stop talking and focus.”

Something flickered in his expression—something hungry.

Then he grinned, lips curling in that all too familiar smirk, though this time, there was nothing cocky about it. Just pure, desperate devotion.

“Yes, ma’am.”

And with that, he obeyed. He sucked your clit with such ferocity, you couldn’t hold back even if you wanted to. Your pussy practically soaked his mouth and was dripping down his chin as his pace slowed them sped up, each time you clenched around his tongue, he would pull back. He wanted to leave you utterly spent.

The way he looked at you, like you were all he ever wanted, made your eyes roll into the back of your head as he made love to your pussy and worshiped you. The feeling was like ecstasy, you were high in the clouds from the way he lapped at your juices, his tongue flat against your pussy then curling and flicking exactly where you needed it.

“Just like that. I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, softly, careful not to wake anyone.

“Please do,” he panted into your pussy. “Squirt all over my face, I’ve proved myself and earned it, haven’t I?”

At his words, the dam inside you finally broke, and the release was overwhelming. You trembled, feeling completely lost in the intensity of it as he held you, still lapping at your pussy with ferocity. You soaked him, your orgasm spraying from you as his face was drenched in your juices. His smirk, proud and cocky, was the last thing you saw as he lay next to you and kissed you softly, murmuring, “Perfect. So fucking perfect, you’re mine now.”

[jakescapes]

𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖'𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨. (𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 2)

pairing: stalker!jake x reader (f)

synopsis: It all started when you met Jake Sim—the campus golden boy everyone adored. Charming, new, and impossible to resist, you quickly become his obsession. But as you fall deeper into his world, you realize the person you're falling for isn’t who he appears to be. And soon, you're trapped in a game you never agreed to play.

warnings: non-con/dub-con!!, suffocation, reader passing out at some point, manipulation, public groping, explicit smut, also not proof read that well

word count: 16k

author's note: hi guyss, im kinda disappointed with this. i feel like i started this story out really strong but i feel like it's rlly rushed towards the end. ive just been rlly needing to finish it so i can get to my other projects, so sorry abt that. also there might be some typos and stuff, i didnt get to properly proof read, but still hope u enjoy!

now playing: mind games by sickick

Jake froze, every muscle in his body locking into place as the faint sound of your voice echoed throughout the apartment, shooting up from the floor in haste. The lighthearted remnants of your voice getting farther away from the front door made his stomach churn with anxiety.

Acting swiftly, he began to hurriedly put all of your panties and bras back into the drawer, fumbling and folding them to make them look as untouched as possible. The faint sound of your footsteps grew louder, and when he heard the soft creak of the floorboards just outside your bedroom door, panic surged through him like a lightning bolt.

The doorknob rattled. Jake’s heart thundered in his chest. There was no time. His eyes darted around the room, searching desperately for an escape plan. He had to hide. Quick.

Without thinking, he dove underneath your bed, barely managing to squeeze his long frame into the cramped, dusty space. It was uncomfortable, the sharp wood frame pressing into his back, but he didn’t have the luxury to care.

As he lay there, Jake pressed his face into the musty carpet and swallowed hard, forcing his breathing to slow. He couldn’t make a sound, not even a whisper of movement, trying to act as invisible as possible. He listened intently, every nerve on edge, as your voice drifted into the room, still lighthearted and casual.

“…I mean, sucks that that one store was closed. Seriously, who closes at 1:30 on a Sunday? What are they, trying to be some knock-off Christian Chick-fil-A or something?” you joked, your voice drawing a laugh from your roommate in the other room.

Jake clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the dust tickling his nose and the pounding in his chest. His mind raced. Every second felt like an eternity as he waited, praying you wouldn’t notice anything amiss.

“…Right? It’s like, I get wanting a day off, but why not just close earlier or something?” Ava replied.

You dropped your bag onto your bed with a sigh, the springs creaking slightly above Jake's head. “Honestly, I’m not even mad about it. I just wanted an excuse to drag you out of the apartment anyway. You’ve been holed up in here all weekend.”

Your roommate groaned dramatically from the hallway. “Okay, but I deserved that lazy weekend. Unlike you, Miss Overachiever, I don’t like voluntarily overloading myself with assignments.”

"It’s called being responsible. You should try it sometime.”

Ava stepped into your room, leaning against the doorframe. “You know who else seems responsible? Jake.”

Jake stiffened under the bed, his heart skipping a beat as his name fell from your roommate’s lips.

You rolled your eyes, flopping down onto the mattress, unknowingly inches above the current topic of discussion. “Don’t start, Ava.”

“I’m just saying,” she continued, walking into the room. “He’s cute, he’s smart, and he literally likes you. What’s the holdup?”

You sighed, your voice tinged with hesitation as you stared up at your ceiling. “I don't know. He’s… really sweet, and he always knows how to make me laugh. I mean, he’s so easy to be around, you know? But sometimes, I get this weird feeling. Like, maybe I’m just overthinking it, but it’s just something is off and I can't ignore it."

Jake’s jaw clenched as he lay silently beneath the bed, every word you said hitting him like a blow.

Ava dismissed your concerns with a wave of her hand. “Are your seriously going on about this again? You’re being ridiculous. He’s just a guy. A really hot, really sweet guy who, for some insane reason, actually likes you.”

“Thanks. Your pep talks are always so inspiring,” you said dryly, but there was a hint of a smile in your voice.

Jake’s mind raced as he absorbed the conversation. On one hand, he was relieved to hear that you liked him, even if you did think he was “off.” But on the other hand, your words lit a fire under him. If you thought he was acting weird, he needed to make sure you didn’t anymore. He had to fix that. He had to fix you.

Your roommate just shrugged, heading back toward the hallway. “Whatever. Just let me know when you’re finally ready to admit you’ve got a thing for him.”

You groaned. “Go away, Ava.”

When the door finally clicked shut and you were left alone in the room, Jake could hear the springs creak again after a few moments as you shifted on the bed. He held his breath, praying you wouldn’t look down or notice anything unusual. If, for whatever reason, you decided to take a peak under your bed, he was done for.

The soft creak of the bed springs put Jake on high alert as you shifted your weight and got up, crossing the room toward your mirror and dresser. He stayed still at first, his body tense and pressed against the floor, but curiosity got the better of him. Slowly and cautiously, he tilted his head, peeking out from under the edge of the bed frame.

His breath caught as his gaze settled on you, oblivious to his presence, adjusting the chain of a delicate necklace in front of the mirror. The way you brushed your fingers over the small pendant, the subtle furrow in your brow as you tilted your head to inspect how it sat against your skin—it captivated him. Jake couldn’t help but stare, his pulse quickening as he watched your every movement.

You opened a drawer, pulling out a pair of earrings and holding them up to your ears, deliberating. To Jake, it was fascinating, how meticulous and graceful you were with such simple actions. He’d never seen this side of you before. It was intimate in a way that made his chest tighten.

But then you paused, turning your head slightly as if you sensed something out of place. Jake ducked back under the bed in an instant, his heart pounding in his chest.

Had you seen him? Did you hear something?

"Ugh, where’s that other earring?” you muttered to yourself, your voice breaking the silence. Jake exhaled quietly in relief, the tension in his body easing just enough to steady his nerves.

He clenched his jaw, realizing how reckless he was being. Yet, despite the danger of being caught, he felt an odd thrill coursing through him, an electric mix of fear and exhilaration.

That sensation intensified even more in the next moment, because the next thing he knew, your jeans were dropping to the floor from of your body. They were then followed by the top you were just wearing seconds ago.

Oh my god, he thought.

You were getting naked. Right in front of him.

Jake's attention piqued even more as he adjusted his head slightly, angling it to get a clearer view from the narrow crevice under your bed. The soft glow of your lamp illuminated your features as you slipped off your panties next, and then unclasped your bra, letting them all fall the to the floor right next to the other discarded pieces of clothing.

It all felt so intimate, so unguarded. Jake’s breathing slowed as he tried to remain as quiet as possible, his body stiff and heart racing, a mix of adrenaline and something deeper coursing through him (his arousal).

Speaking of, Jake immediately got hard, once again, at the sight—feeling his jeans getting tighter and suffocating his dick against the floor as it began to grow. However, it was definitely not the right time to pull his fucking dick out right now, and he knew that. Mostly because there certainly wasn't enough room for him to jerk off anyway, and less because he feared being too loud and getting caught.

But really, who could blame him? Any man with a decent pair of eyes would understand Jake’s fascination. Look at you. You were gorgeous. The way your hair cascaded down your slender back, catching the light just right, as you stood in front of the mirror. The subtle way you tilted your head, studying your own reflection with that quiet intensity, as if you were both admiring and critiquing yourself. It was mesmerizing. The way that your tits sat so perfectly, so perky, right above your waistline, perfectly accentuating your figure. Your belly button piercing glinted subtly under the light, resting perfectly against your skin, almost like a cherry on top of an already stunning masterpiece.

Your long legs. They seemed to go on forever, effortlessly graceful as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. Everything about you screamed perfection in a way that felt almost unfair to anyone lucky, or unlucky, enough to be in your orbit.

And who could forget that ass of yours? Jake, of course, couldn't. Only getting glimpses of what it looked like when you wore jeans or even those tight, tight yoga pants that drove him crazy definitely couldn't have prepared him for the sight before him. It was so round and curvy, resting perfectly against your hips. I could get used to this, he thought. He had fantasies about it, and now, those said fantasies were certainly growing by the moment, as he just stared right at you. Fantasies of grabbing it, slapping it as hard as he could. Didn't even care about leaving marks or bruises, knowing that except for you, he would be the only one seeing them anyway.

He so badly wanted to get a good look at your pussy. But that damn mirror, the one attached to the dresser, ended just where your hips were, blocking any chance of him catching a glimpse of what lay further. With your back turned towards him, it was as if fate had decided to toy with him, letting him catch only fragments of your perfect image before the mirror cut it off. He could only imagine the rest, and the thought of it made his chest tighten with frustration.

But at the end of the day, it was no big deal. The thought of seeing your sweet, perfect little pussy for the first time, up close while he undressed you and ate it out didn't sound so bad. Saving the best for last, I guess. He promised to himself in that moment, that he would eat it so fucking good it would leave you fucking desperate and begging for more.

Jake liked the sound of that. He liked it a lot.

But suddenly, the sound of you walking towards your connected bathroom snapped him out of his thoughts. Jake's heart pounded in his chest as he heard the water turn on in the bathroom a few seconds later. The faint hum of the shower running provided a small but crucial cover for his movements. And as much as he wanted to witness you after a nice, hot shower, probably only wearing a tiny towel wrapped around your body and topped with a sexy messy bun, he knew this was his only opportunity to slip out unnoticed.

Still lying under the bed, Jake strained to listen for any sudden sounds that could signal your return to the bedroom. Satisfied that the shower was fully running and you were preoccupied, he slid out from under the bed as quietly as possible, moving with deliberate slowness to avoid any creaking from the floor.

Once on his feet, he scanned the room to ensure everything was back in its place. His sharp eyes darted around for any evidence of his intrusion, opening up your dresser drawers once more to warrant anything suspicious. Satisfied, he grabbed just a few more pairs of your panties (for safekeeping of course), before he tiptoed toward the door, making sure to avoid stepping on anything that might give him away. Every movement felt painfully loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Slowly, Jake turned the doorknob, grateful that it didn’t squeak. He opened the door just wide enough to slip through.

Now in the hallway, he moved swiftly toward the front of your apartment, glancing over his shoulder to ensure the coast was clear. He could see the shadow of your roommate behind her closed door, which he wanted to take advantage of, in case she had any ideas of stepping out anytime soon.

Before exiting, he paused to ensure the door wouldn’t slam shut behind him. He gently eased it closed until it latched without a sound.

Only when Jake was outside, the cool air hitting his face, did he allow himself to exhale. His hands were trembling, but he couldn’t help the slight smirk that tugged at his lips. The thrill of narrowly escaping made his heart race as he walked away, blending back into the world as if nothing had happened.

-------------------------

You stepped back into your room, towel drying your damp hair, the scent of your lavender body wash still lingering in the air.

Your gaze landed on the door to your room. It was slightly ajar, a sliver of the hallway visible through the gap. You frowned, pausing mid-step. You were certain Ava shut it before you ended your conversation with her.

Shaking your head, you walked over and pushed the door closed with a soft click, dismissing it completely in the moment. But as you moved around the room, another thing caught your eye—your clothing dresser. The bottom drawer, where you kept your underwear and bras and a few other ones above it, wasn’t pushed in all the way. A small sliver of space separated it from the dresser frame, and you swore you’d closed it flush, as you always did.

You stood there, staring at the drawer. Then you laughed lightly to yourself, shaking the tension away. Seriously? You’re being ridiculous. Ava probably came in looking for some clothes to borrow, you reasoned.

To quiet the nagging thoughts, you reached for your phone and opened your messages.

You: thanks for being so understanding earlier about me canceling

You: i feel bad

The reply came almost instantly, as if he’d been waiting for it.

Jake: ofc, don’t even worry about it

Jake: u deserve to have fun with your friends. just lmk if u need anything

The sweetness in his words made you smile, easing the tension in your chest. Jake was always so patient, so attentive. It made you feel safe. Despite the strange feelings lingering in the back of your mind, you found yourself focusing on how lucky you were to have someone like him.

You sank onto your bed, scrolling through your messages and exchanging a few more lighthearted texts with Jake. The oddities in your room faded into the background, brushed aside by the warmth of his words. Everything was finally feeling normal again.

-------------------------

Some weeks later, you and Jake finally became official. After some more one sided pining on his end, you eventually gave in. How could you not? He was the perfect boyfriend if there ever was one. He never pressured you to do anything, always let you decide where to hang out, and gave you cuddles at the end of the day when you were stressed. At least for now he did.

Anyway, you two were the couple. The kind of picture perfect pair everyone whispered about on campus. Sure, girls despised you for being the one to finally cuff the golden boy, their envy radiating every time they caught you two holding hands and walking each other to class. But who cared? Jake was yours, you were happy, and that’s all that mattered.

But damn, you never realized how clingy he could be.

It started small, little things that felt more endearing than overbearing. Like how he would insist on walking you to every single class or text you updates throughout the day about the most mundane things. But as time passed, you couldn’t help but notice how Jake seemed to always need to be around you.

Take tonight, for example. You’d planned a cozy night in with Ava, some junk food, a cheesy romcom, and long overdue catching up. But Jake had other ideas.

“Surprise,” he said, appearing outside your dorm with that boyish grin you found so hard to resist. A bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and takeout from that hole in the wall restaurant you loved in the other. And while you appreciated the thoughtful gesture, you couldn’t help but internally roll your eyes at the fact that he was here. Again. You loved your boyfriend's company, truly, but sometimes... you just needed a little space.

You blinked, caught between guilt and irritation. “Jake, I told you I was hanging out with Ava tonight—”

“I know, I know. But you work so hard, and I just wanted to do something nice for you. You deserve to relax.”

It was sweet. Almost too sweet. You couldn’t bring yourself to argue. Instead, you shot Ava a quick apologetic look from behind the door. She was perched on the couch, arms crossed, clearly witnessing the entire situation and waiting for you to shut the door on Jake so the two of you could finally start your movie. But that didn't happen. Instead, you promised to make it up to her, and followed Jake back to his car.

And this was starting to become a pattern. Whenever you had plans, especially with Ava, Jake would magically appear with something planned. A picnic in the park, an impromptu movie night, or a late night drive to “clear your head.” And every time, he’d have some way of framing it as him looking out for you.

“You’ve been so stressed lately. I just thought you’d want to spend time with me,” he’d say with a pout, his hands brushing yours as he looked at you with those puppy dog eyes. “But if you’d rather be with her…”

The guilt would hit you like a ton of bricks every time. How could you say no to that? Ava would understand. You could always reschedule, right?

But she wasn’t blind.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Jake,” she said one afternoon, cornering you in the campus coffee shop. Her tone was casual, but her words carried weight. “Not that I don’t get it—he’s your boyfriend. But I feel like we barely hang out anymore.”

Her words stuck with you, planting a tiny seed of doubt that lingered in the back of your mind.

You sighed, stirring your matcha latte idly as you avoided her gaze. “I know. I do. It’s just… he’s so clingy. That’s just how he is. And I feel bad saying no to him, you know? He gets so disappointed when I do.”

“I get that. I really do. But I feel like he’s kind of monopolizing your time. I mean, it’s not just me. Have you even seen any of your other friends lately?"

You opened your mouth to reply but stopped. She wasn’t wrong. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it like that. It’s not like I’m trying to push you all away or anything. He just… he makes me feel guilty if I even bring up spending time with anyone else.”

Ava reached across the table, her voice softer now. “Look, I’m not saying to ditch him or anything. I just wish you’d talk to him about it, set some boundaries. You shouldn’t feel guilty for having a life outside of him.”

Honestly, you were a little surprised at yourself at this point. Before Jake, you always promised that you’d never let anyone, let alone a guy, control your life. You had standards. You had priorities. Not that you don’t have those now, but your relationship with Jake wasn’t exactly what you envisioned for yourself back then. Sure, you liked him, maybe even more than you wanted to admit, but the version of you from before would never have tolerated being treated this way. You roommate was right. It was time to set some boundaries.

You nodded. “You’re right. If he tries to do it again, I’ll talk to him. I promise.”

Ava smiled, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “That’s all I’m asking. I just miss my best friend.”

Her words made your chest tighten, and you felt a pang of guilt. You hadn’t meant for things to turn out like this.

And just as you had every intention to talk to him about it, you found yourself realizing how hard it actually was. It was almost as if Jake couldn’t fully grasp what you were trying to say, or maybe he just didn’t want to.

Here you were, in his room, standing near the edge of his bed while he sat there, looking up at you with those eyes. Soft, questioning, and frustratingly innocent.

“I’m not saying I don’t want to spend time with you,” you began carefully, your arms crossed. “I’m just saying I need to spend time with other people too, like Ava. She’s my best friend Jake, and I don’t want her to feel like I’ve forgotten about her.”

He tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing. “I don’t understand,” he said, his tone laced with genuine confusion. “Am I keeping you from her? I mean, I thought I was spending time with you because we like being together. Isn’t that normal in a relationship?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “It is normal, Jake, but not when it feels like it’s all the time. I need some space to breathe, to see my friends, to just... be me for a little while, you know?”

Jake blinked, his expression shifting into something that looked hurt. “But I never stop you from seeing her. I never tell you not to. I mean, is it wrong for me to want to be with you? Am I doing something wrong here?”

His words made your stomach twist. He wasn’t raising his voice or arguing back aggressively. It just really seemed like he was unintentionally making you feel like the bad guy without even trying. You could feel your resolve starting to crumble.

“No, you’re not doing anything wrong,” you said, exhaling deeply, trying to keep your frustration in check. “It’s just... I need balance, Jake. That’s all I’m asking for.”

It was silent between the two of you for a few moments and by the look of his face, you could tell Jake was in deep thought. Then he leaned back slightly, patting the space on the bed next to him. “Come here,” he said softly. “Can we just cuddle for now? I don’t like fighting with you. We can talk about it later.”

You hesitated, staring at him, feeling the weight of the conversation slipping through your fingers. Part of you wanted to push back, to make him understand. But the other part, the tired part, just wanted to stop feeling like the bad guy.

Finally, you sighed and stepped closer, sitting down beside him. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “I’m sorry if I’m too much sometimes,” he murmured against your hair. “I just love being around you. That’s all.”

You didn’t say anything, just rested your head against his chest, hoping that maybe next time, he’d understand better. But deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if “next time” would even come.

You were then snapped out of your thoughts. You felt Jake’s arms tighten around you, pulling you in closer, his hands gently moving you onto his lap as he laid down against the edge of his bed. You instinctively wrapped your arms around him, letting your head fall into the familiar nook of his neck. The softness of his skin and the warmth of his body felt like a comfort, something you couldn’t easily shake off, no matter how many times you found yourself questioning things.

Inhaling deeply, you let his scent fill your senses, something warm, comforting, like a blend of cologne and the faint trace of his laundry detergent. It made you feel safe, even as the earlier conversation lingered at the back of your mind. Trying to push the thoughts away, you shifted slightly, moving even closer to him, needing to feel his strength, his presence.

He was so strong. So big. His arms felt massive against your body, holding you in place like he never wanted to let go. It was overwhelming in the best way, like everything outside of this moment didn’t matter.

Despite the frustration you’d been feeling with him earlier, there was still something undeniably comforting about being held like this. You couldn’t deny that part of you that loved how he took such good care of you, how he made you feel cherished in his own way, even if it was sometimes suffocating.

His voice broke through the silence, soft yet filled with something you couldn’t quite place. "Look at me," he said gently.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were soft, a mix of guilt and apology swirling within them. You felt a pang in your chest, unsure if it was from him or the doubt creeping in. Was I really being that mean to him? you thought, the question lingering in your mind as you studied his face. He didn’t say anything further, but his eyes spoke volumes. They were full of remorse, as if he was silently pleading with you, trying to convey something deeper than words could express.

The weight of the silence pressed down on you. You had tried to voice your thoughts, but here he was, looking at you like this, and it made you feel like you were the one who overreacted. It made you feel guilty in a way you couldn’t shake off.

Without thinking, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, your lips finding his in an almost instinctual gesture. It was a way of apologizing, of quieting the inner turmoil you were both experiencing. His lips were soft and familiar against yours, and in that moment, it felt like everything was okay again. For a few seconds, the confusion and uncertainty melted away, replaced by the warmth of his embrace and the comfort of his touch.

But even as you kissed him, part of you still knew that you were sweeping things under the rug. You could feel the weight of the conversation that still needed to happen, but for now, you chose to silence it. You couldn’t bear to confront it while you were here in his arms, feeling like everything was falling back into place.

So, you continued to play along with the nice guy act—kissing him, feeling him up, giving him the affection he craved. And that seemed to make him forget all about the tension from earlier, his mood lifting with each gesture. What started as simple innocent kissing, soon turned into a heated makeout sesh, with Jake groaning into your mouth with no care in the world.

Even though your boyfriend was known for being the sweetest guy on campus, always the charmer with a warm smile and kind words, you couldn't forget that he was, at the end of the day, a man—a man with needs, desires, and an undeniable level of attraction. When you first started going out with him, you expected him to try to make moves on you, to test the waters, even before he would officially ask you out. It was only natural, right? Especially considering the way he always looked at you with that intensity, the subtle touches here and there, and the moment his eyes landed on you, you could feel his desire to see you stripped of everything. But surprisingly, he never really tried anything. Other than the occasional kissing or making out, there was never anything beyond that between you two. You appreciated the patience. It made you feel respected in a way that was uncommon to see in pretty much any man these days. And maybe that’s why you overlooked the weirdness that sometimes crept in.

So when you could tell he was beginning to feel worked up as you both aggressively made out, him trying to contain himself from thrusting up against you, you let him. And more than that, you encouraged it, meeting his hips halfway, letting some whines slip out as you both tongued into each other's mouths.

Jake was surprised at first, momentarily stopping his movements completely as you continued your relentless riding against the center of his groin. But he then quickly took it as a sign to keep on going, to bring it up a notch.

He started to move his hands from where they were at your hips, all the way down to the bottom of your ass, squeezing them with no shame at all. Surely, you were taken aback at his blunt action, but you couldn't deny that that didn't just turn you the fuck on.

You let him know to keep going by moaning once more against him, which he seemed to like a lot, as he picked up the pace of his hips, thrusting right up against your core. Your panties began to feel a bit sticky, since you were, now, beginning to feel what was right under you the whole time.

You were always curious about what it looked like. Or what it felt like. Sometimes catching glances of it in those grey sweatpants of his, or when he would manspread right next to you on his couch, legs spread wide open. But now your curiosity came to an end, because you could literally feel every. single. inch. of his outline.

And he was bigggg. You just knew. I mean, how could you not? With the way it was completely rock hard against you at this point, being shoved up right against your center over and over, and over again. Now, you were being the one who was beginning to feel riled up and you needed more than to just hump his lap. Thankfully, though, Jake noticed—and he did something about it.

The next moment, you were flipped on your back with Jake now on top, reversing the position you were just in. You let out a gasp of surprise as your back hit the bed's mattress in almost an instant. As you caught your breath, you could see in your dazed eyesight, Jake smirking at you from above, very much liking the affect he had on you.

You were about to teasingly roll your eyes at him, until he forcefully pressed his hips right in between your legs, drawing out a loud, unexpected moan from you. The feeling was so raw with his hard length pressed right up against you, making your pussy ache and crave for more. Then, with no warning, he increased his speed once again, thrusting faster, harder, and spreading your legs apart as far as possible, giving him better access to press his cock onto you. He took them and brought them up against his face, forcing you in a mating press, while continuing his harsh, merciless thrusts, eliciting endless whines from you, and deep groans from Jake.

At this point, you completely soaked right through your panties and your shorts. which you only noticed because Jake was intently staring at the dark spot forming on your shorts, fascinated. Embarrassed, you brought your hands to your face, covering it from his view, getting too overstimulated in the moment from the pleasure coming from Jake's dick, and the almost tangible sexual tension in the room.

"Fuck," he groaned with rasp in his voice, still staring straight at what was in between your legs. "You're so fucking hot. Can't get enough of you."

He then inched even closer to your body, removing his hands from in between your legs, and up to hug your back almost suffocatingly. With this new angle, he could get his cock to reach further up your clit, humping into you at lightning speed. His bed started creaking from the sudden movements, and in the moment, you literally thought it was going to fucking break, considering how fast he was going.

Your mind was blank, overtaken by the waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. Eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, you were lost in the sensation, completely dazed. But it still wasn't enough. You wanted to feel it. With nothing in between.

"Jakeee," you whined, almost desperately. "I need ittt... pleaseeee."

This got his attention, his face lifting up from the crook of your neck. He slowed his movements down, just a bit, but still fast enough to keep you in this mind fucked state.

"Need what, baby? Tell me."

This just made you whine even louder. He knew goddamn what. He was just being a bitch and not giving you what he wanted. But your stubborn self wasn't going to give in. Frustrated, you snaked your hand in between both of your tight knitted bodies, grabbing his dick through his jeans harshly, immediately evoking a low, drawn out grunt from your boyfriend.

"Need itt," you whimpered again, reminding him.

You didn't need to tell him twice after that.

Right away, he let go of you, grabbing onto the hem of your shorts and pulling them down all the way down your legs, until you were just covered in those thin, slutty, fucking soaked panties of yours.

He stared at you for a few seconds, loving and drinking in the sight before him. You were propped up on your elbows, a sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead, panting slightly and your legs spread wide open, just for him.

And as much as he wanted to rip his pants off already and shove himself into you, he knew that was just the easy route. If he truly wanted to get you hooked, to have you wrapped around his little finger, he had to stick to the promise he made to himself that day. The promise he made when he was staring at you unclothed, from underneath the crevice of your bed, in your own room that you had no fucking idea about. Yeah, he thought. This is what I had been waiting for.

So instead, he lowered himself off the edge of his bed, never breaking eye contact with you. He took your ankles into his grip, pulling you forward suddenly, prompting a high pitched squeak from you, so your hips were now just at the edge of the bed, with your legs spread wide, dangling and open in the air. With nothing in his way now, he placed his nose directly above your clothed pussy, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, fucking shamelessly.

Yeah, this surprised you, but like c'mon... it was also so fucking hot. And the way he moaned into it, obviously liking the scent and burying his face even deeper, his nose pressing hard against your clit, sent your spiraling out of control.

"Jake what are you—"

"Shhh," he murmured against you, cutting you off. "Just let me."

So you did. Honestly, you would've let him do anything he wanted to you at this point.

After Jake was finally done with being a fucking pervert in front of his very own girlfriend and was finished with smelling your panties, he dipped his tongue out onto the fabric, applying just the right amount of pleasure. Your eyes instantly rolled back from the feeling, letting your arms and head fall back against the bed. If he was going to do this for you, you might as well enjoy it in comfort.

But for Jake, this was almost euphoric. After the first lick, he licked it again. And again. And again, until he was basically making out with your underwear, even going as far as to rubbing his whole face into it. And he honestly seemed like he was getting more pleasure than you were, moaning loudly enough that the neighbors would definitely come rushing to his door and complaining the next day. But after a while, he needed to really taste you, bury his tongue in your hole, with no fabric or lace in his way.

Finally, ripping your panties off your legs as quickly as possible, that's when he finally saw it—your fucking pussy. Dripping onto his bed, so, so, so perfect. He didn't have to even imagine it anymore. He no longer had to dream of it. After months and months of wondering what was hiding beneath the skirts you wore on your dates, he finally knew. And it couldn't have been more irresistible.

Wasting no time, he dug his tongue back in between your folds, ultimately getting a taste of the raw you. The real you he truly craved for for so, so long. He was instantly hit with a rush of euphoria as his eyes rolled back at the relish. Fuck, you couldn't have tasted better to him. And the fact that the whole time you were dating him, this is what you were hiding? This is what you had the whole time? Oh, poor naïve you. If only you would have known the affect just the thought of your pussy gave him. You could have been the one to have him wrapped around your finger. It could have been you. But unfortunately, it wasn't.

Minutes had gone by. Many, many minutes. Jake was currently sucking on your clit as you gripped tightly at the wavy locks of his hair, feeling the urge to rip out every strand as you got more and more overstimulated and impatient by the passing second. He had been going at your clit for the past who even knows anymore, and as much as his skilled tongue work sent you over the edge, you were starting to reach your limit and you needed his mouth off of you now.

"Jakee, it's too much," you weakly attempted, out of breath, as you tried to close your legs on him. Which obviously, didn't fucking work considering how fast he was to open them up again. You sighed in defeat as he just kept on going, eating you out like he was on death row and you were his last meal.

"Jakee. Stop it. I can't—"

"Shut the fuck up."

Um, what?

Flabbergasted, your body froze briefly at his sudden tone. Your sweet, kind boyfriend who had never even said the words "damn" or "hell" in front of you was now speaking to you like that? Who did he think he was?

Jake could tell you were taken aback by what he said, with the way your mouth was agape in dismay, your eyes fully widened.

"What," he chuckled, enjoying your state of shock. "You fucking asked for it didn't you? So you're going to take it."

And that's all he said, before he lowered his mouth back onto your core, lapping up every single drop, not letting a single morsel of your arousal go to waste. But even that still didn't distract you from your agitation. He had been eating you out for at least fifteen minutes at this point. And you couldn't take another second of it.

Again, you tried to move your legs out of his grasp, but struggling in the end. His grip on your thighs was so tight, it felt like he was trying to anchor you to him, making sure you couldn't escape even if you wanted to. Still, you kept trying to squirm away, your body instinctively resisting, though each attempt only seemed to make his grip stronger. His hold on you was unyielding, and the harder you struggled, the more you felt the tension building between you both. He wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

"Stop fucking moving," he said, mouth full of pussy.

Whining, you started thrashing around. You needed to get him off of you.

"What did I fucking say—"

"Wait," you blurted out impatiently, a strange feeling stirring within you.

"What?"

"I think.. I-I'm gonna.." you whimpered weakly, as you felt an unfamiliar feeling building up inside of you.

"Gonna what?" he asked confused as he looked up at you, but still not letting up on your hole.

The feeling was getting more urgent, something you couldn't ignore as he kept on sucking. It was so foreign, that you didn't know what it could have been, until it was finally ripping out of you.

"Ahhh!" you screamed, overwhelmed by a sensation you had never experienced before.

You orgasmed.

But it wasn't a regular orgasm. You didn't just come.

You fucking squirted.

All over your boyfriend.

The liquid spilled out of you, shooting into the air, most of it landing on Jake's face—coating not just his mouth, but his nose. And his eyes. Everything. Everywhere.

For a second, you both just stood still in shock, not knowing what to do, your eyes and mouth open wide in horror. The air was thick with tension, neither of you moving, neither of you saying a word. It felt like time had frozen, the moment hanging between you like an unspoken question, waiting for one of you to break the silence.

You were so fucking embarrassed. You had never squirted in your life. Ever. No man you have ever spent a night with has ever made you feel so pleasured the way that Jake did, in just minutes. You never expected for your first time to be repaying the person in their face, let alone that person being your own boyfriend!

You wanted to bury yourself in a hole, close it up, and never leave it again. The weight of shame pressed down on you, suffocating you, making every breath feel like it was being dragged through mud. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being exposed, vulnerable, and everything seemed to spin faster as you wished for the ground to swallow you whole.

And it didn't help that Jake was just staring right at you, panting heavily, with your fucking arousal painted all over him. You were expecting him to get up and walk out, or maybe even slam the door in your face, kicking you out like it was nothing. But to your surprise, that didn’t happen. Instead, he broke the silence just seconds later after catching his breath.

"That was... so fucking hot."

Wait what?

What did he say?

"... Huh?" you asked hesitantly.

"I said," he began, as he started crawling back up onto the bed, not even caring that your slick from his face was now dripping onto his sheets. "That was so.. fucking... hot." He said the last words with an emphasis that carried so much tension, each syllable hanging in the air like an ultimatum. You could feel your heart racing in your chest, unsure of how to respond. The silence that followed was deafening, almost suffocating, as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. His eyes never left yours, and there was something in them that you couldn’t quite decipher. Probably his horniness, you concluded.

"Fuck, I need to fuck you so bad," he finally confessed, staring directly at your lips.

And honestly, that idea didn't sound too bad. So you stared right back at him in the eyes, challengingly.

"Fuck me then," you said ultimately, as if daring him, testing how far he was willing to go.

"What'd you say?" he asked, his voice almost tinged with disbelief, as if trying to convince himself that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. Making sure he wasn't so horny to the point that he was hallucinating shit now.

"Fuck me."

The next thing you knew, your legs were being hauled up over your own head, once again, in what felt like a literal millisecond. After that, everything felt like a blur. The sound of the metal from Jake’s belt slipping through the loops echoed in the silence, the sharp clink of the buckle followed by the soft hiss of leather rubbing against fabric, pulled off in a rush.

Once all of his clothes were finally on the floor, you took your goddamn time to admire him while you were still perched on the bed. His pecs might have been as big as your own tits while his biceps were strikingly humongous. And damn, that holy six pack.

You were starting to understand now why every girl admired him on campus. His personality was evidently perfect, intelligent, sociable, and effortlessly charming. But you knew that already. However, you hadn’t quite considered just how much his physical appearance played a part in it all. The way his broad shoulders seemed to fill the space around you, the confidence in his posture that commanded attention without him even trying. And that slutty ass waist...

And then your gaze trailed lower... and lower. Until you finally laid your eyes on.. it.

You gasped lightly, Jake finding your reaction quite amusing, already knowing what it was you were gawking at. How the hell is that going to fit inside me?.. you thought.

It had to have been at least 8 inches. And it was veiny as fuck. Just the sight of it made your mouth water a little.

As much as it wouldn't go in that easily, you wanted it everywhere. Inside you, in your mouth, and maybe even from behind too. You were starting to imagine all the possibilities and wondered why it took you so long to finally do this with him. It's not like you were any better to be honest, considering since the day you met him you always wondered what that thing of his could do. And now, you were about to find out.

While he positioned himself right in between your legs, you hastily ripped your shirt and bra off, tossing them carelessly onto the floor.

"It might hurt a bit," Jake announced. "Just tell me if I should go slower."

You nodded, not even listening, your eyes never leaving his giant cock as he aligned it against your hole. But you should've listened, because nothing could have possibly prepared you for the first push of his dick.

It entered you with almost no warning, your body still getting used to the feeling, considering you haven't had sex in a while. And none of your past experiences could have compared to what Jake had. So, for you, it hurt. Like hell. More than usual. But you're a fighter, and you were going to take his 8 inches like a champ. So you took a deep breath, eyes shutting, and pushing through the pain while Jake inched even deeper.

But Jake, on the other hand—he seemed like he was already in heaven. Even when just his tip aligned with your pussy, he was already not confident enough he would be able to hold back, wanting to ram into it immediately and take you with no hesitation. But he can't scare you off like that. At least, definitely not now. So instead, he maintained his composure (or at least tried to) as he pushed his length into you just a few more inches.

He was probably halfway in now. And while you were still getting used to the stretch, squeezing Jake's arms from the pain, he was seriously about to fucking cum. Your cunt couldn't have squeezed him better. Your walls wanted to push him out so badly, while he simultaneously thrusted farther and deeper into you.

And when he finally made it all the way in, you gripped onto his chest fiercely, stopping him, not yet sure you'd be able to take him just yet.

"Just a moment," you voiced urgently. "I just need to get used to it first."

And while Jake nodded and remained rooted inside of you, he was going crazy and faltering out of control. The longer he remained still, the more he wanted to insert himself even deeper, thrusting into you with no abandon. He tried to think about your side though, he really did. How your probably trying your best to speed things up and get used to his size, but just couldn't help how big he was. But that thought just turned him on even more and he needed to move.

"Are you good now?" he asked, his voice laced with more desperation and want than he intended, needing to ram into you so badly. And although you weren’t entirely ready yet, you figured you were probably prepared enough to start. So you gave him a quick nod, which you immediately regretted a few seconds later.

The way that the moment you started to tilt your head to form a nod, he took that as a sign and did not hesitate to thrust all of his length up your fucking cervix, already going at a pace you could not handle.

You gasped, loudly and understandably, since Jake was basically ramming into you from the start, leaving you no time to fully adjust. His arms came down to cage your body from under him, his face buried into the mattress right next to yours, already groaning so damn loudly while you yelled in pain. His pace unfathomably increasing, not faltering for even just a second.

Thankfully though, after a few more seconds, the pain was starting to form into pleasure and lust. You could feel that familiar surge of nerves racing through your entire body while your pussy got fucking violated from Jake's dick. And the urge to scream at him to stop pounding into you slowly faded away in the background.

Your eyebrows furrowed as your mouth hung wide open in a silent scream. His gigantic cock slammed into you at a constant rate, nonstop and uninterrupted. His balls slapped your ass every time he thrusted hardly, definitely marking you with some redness down there.

His body was right on top of you, making it harder to breathe as you both moaned loudly, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the room. He was hitting you just right, in the exact places where you felt it the most. Where you felt it the hardest, the most authentic and raw.

You brought your arms up and lifted his head from where it rested on you, your hands framing his face between them. He stared at you from above, his bottom lip caught in between his teeth, sweat sheering his forehead, pleasure and lust written all over his face.

Never you imagined you would see your boyfriend like this. In such a state so vulnerable. So real.

And it was so fucking hot.

"Fuck," you moaned. "I think I'm close Jake."

"Yeah?" he asked, out of breath.

"Mhmmm..," you whined almost pornographically, and you felt Jake's dick twitch from inside of you, knowing he was close too.

"Me too," he grunted hoarsely. He readjusted himself as his pace sped up, thrusting his hips at a pace so unfathomably violent and fast, that it was starting to hurt your insides just a bit. But it hurt so good.

He brought his lips down to your right nipple, sucking and nibbling at the flesh until it was hard against his tongue, then switching sides to your other tit, milking out everything. He slurped and bit harshly, leaving dark purple and red marks that looked like it hurt. You moaned even louder, your pussy getting so wet that it was starting to coat the bed and even the insides of Jake's thighs. You were dripping literally everywhere.

"Want me to give you my babies?" Jake asked, once he was done with your boobs, grinning slyly while his pace fastened even more.

Not even able to fully comprehend the seriousness or reality of his question, you just shook your head weakly, only focused on cumming. Your brain was so fucked out at this point.

"No?" he chuckled lowly. "I bet you'd be such a good mommy though."

And that was all he said until Jake's thrusts were beginning to get sloppier and sloppier, his face contorting while his eyes rolled back to the brim, shoving in one final thrust, until he shot his thick, white ropes of cum inside you with absolutely no warning.

The sensation was so intense, so unfiltered—it was unlike anything you had ever experienced. Your entire body went rigid, frozen in place. You let out your loudest scream that night, when you felt his fluids paint your insides, unleashing your own orgasm. Your thighs shook uncontrollably as your back arched off the bed, until finally, you stilled—your body reminiscing the after moments.

Jake, so fucking exhausted, dropped right on top of you after getting arguably the best orgasm of his life. He panted heavily, eyes shutting immediately, feeling like he just ran a marathon with not a single drop of water.

And that was the last thing you remembered before the weight of exhaustion pulled you both into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-------------------------

After that day, you and Jake had sex, a lot. And everywhere.

In the shower, on the bed, on the floor, the wall, the couch, and even in his roommate's bed (but no one needs to know about that).

It was as if you had both hesitated, afraid to be the first to cross the line—but once it was done, the hesitation vanished, leaving nothing but a mutual understanding between you.

And now, here you were, kneeling down in between your boyfriend's legs, as he sat on his couch. His clothed dick was resting in your mouth, as his hands pet your hair gently.

"Come on, don't be shy," he encouraged, as he drank in the sight of you. You were innocently looking up at him from where you were on the floor, your mouth right on the center of his sweatpants.

"I'm not shy," you said, your mouth still around his dick.

He raised his eyebrow in suspicion, teasingly, not fully convinced by your statement. So, you applied more pressure on his dick, definitely not biting it, but just more force on your mouth overall.

His hips immediately and instinctively thrusted upward at the feeling, while his hand pushed your head downward onto his cock, groaning from pleasure.

You groaned too, although the sounds were getting suffocated and muffled from his pants.

"Okay, enough teasing. Just suck it already," he demanded out of desperation.

He released the pressure from head so you could breathe better, while you took this opportunity to take the hem of his sweats in your hands. You tugged them down slightly as he lifted his hips, allowing you to slide them lower with more ease. Once they were low enough and the only thing separating you from his cock were his briefs, you placed your mouth back onto his center. But this time, you sucked and licked on the fabric, almost like you were mimicking his same actions from the first time he ate you out.

This made his legs spread even wider, hands pushing your head lower onto him as you suckled onto his cock through his underwear, feeling his arousal spreading throughout the cloth. You could almost taste his pre cum at this point. His whiny moans were getting louder, reminding you that you should probably get to it already, so, you removed your mouth from where it was while you finally tugged his briefs down, releasing his hard dick that slapped against his abdomen with urgency.

It looked so damn juicy and delicious. It stood up straight confidently, with pre cum leaking out of the tip from the hole. Veins covered it from top to bottom, and the observation made your own panties start to dampen.

Without hesitation, you brought your tongue to the tip, slurping up all of the pre cum, and almost rolling your eyes back from the taste. Sure, it was bitter and salty, and not your typical go to appetite, but it came from Jake. And that was good enough.

He cursed from above you as you took the whole head of it in your mouth, sucking and licking like your life depended on it. And once your mouth got used to his size, you reached lower and lower, until the halfway mark hit the back of your throat already. You wanted to take it in all the way, but there was just no way it was going to fit. And Jake knew that. So instead, you took your right palm and grabbed the base of his cock, jerking it off while you bobbed your head on the parts that would fit in your mouth.

Now, this wasn't the best head you've ever gave, you'll admit. It was pretty sloppy, but Jake didn't seem to mind. It was understandable, considering the fact that it was pretty uncommon for the average lady to take 8 inches down the throat anyway.

The sounds of you gagging, which seemed pretty unattractive to you, turned Jake on way too much. Him knowing the fact that your tiny little mouth with a gag reflex couldn't take his big, aching cock—the idea rattled him too much, moaning and grunting as he just watched you try to suck it as best as you could. Trying your best to impress him.

But he was growing impatient. And while Jake knew that you couldn't make it fit, he knew he could. So without any notice, he removed your hand from the base of his cock and slammed his hips upward into your mouth, releasing the most yearning moan out of him.

Your throat burned instantly while Jake began to fuck your mouth. You brought your hands up to his hips, grabbing and thrashing at him, trying to warn him that you couldn't take it. But Jake's head was thrown back so far in pleasure, he had no fucking idea. He just kept your head in place with that grip of his, continuously hitting the back of your throat as your tiny, pink lips jerked him off. Tears began to stream down your face, tasting the saltiness of them as they met with your mouth.

Fuck, this couldn't go on for much longer.

You tried to voice your concerns, struggling to make any sound, desperate to get Jake’s attention, but your mouth was still full of dick. And the vibrations from your attempts to speak just sent Jake even more over the edge, groaning loudly as his eyes shut closed in pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck... I'm so close.." he managed to mutter, eyes still sewn shut, hips still fucking up into your face.

You tried to breathe through your noise, knowing now that he was about to finish anyway, but really, nothing was helping and your jaw went slack.

Thankfully, with his hips stilling for just a second, you were able to get a small puff of air, before he was ramming back up and shooting his cum down your throat.

The tangy flavor instantly filled your taste buds, but not for long, as you removed your mouth in no time, gasping for air, as if each breath was your last. Finally being able to breathe normally again, you caught the sight of Jake, still very much cumming, but now with your mouth removed, it was darting past you and onto your face. Some got caught in your eyelashes while some landed on your lips. It was almost ironic how, not too long ago, you'd done the exact same thing to Jake, staring into his face with that same intensity while you sat there panting, trying to catch your breath.

But he wasn't done. He grabbed onto your face forcefully with one hand, opening your jaw back up and positioning it right where his dick was, while his other pumped his pent up cock a few more times, with the last bits of his cum spilling out and landing right inside your mouth. Your body jerked at the taste once more, while Jake just watched you, mouth wide open, swallowing up all of his juices with that look of pure sex and passion.

------------------------

"He did what?" Ava asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

You just shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal. "Yeah, I mean, it was definitely pretty unexpected, but like, it was hot," you admitted, watching Ava's face still struggle to process the information.

"But like, it's Jake we're talking about here. I didn't even know he was freaky like that."

You let out a sigh, brushing the hair from your face. "Yeah well, you can never really know with men," you tried to explain to her, glancing down at your hands. "Anyway, let's talk about something else."

"Okay, well did you ever actually talk to Jake about setting those boundaries? You said you were going to do that, right?"

You froze for a moment, the guilt creeping up your spine. "Well," you started, avoiding her gaze, "I tried... but he didn’t really understand. He kept asking me what he did wrong, and it just felt like he was putting it all on me. Like, I couldn’t even explain myself without him getting defensive." You bit your lip, trying to suppress the frustration. "I don’t know, Ava. Maybe I didn’t handle it right, but it was like he was more concerned about himself than actually listening."

Her expression hardened, lips forming a thin line. "You can’t keep brushing stuff under the rug just because he’s sweet sometimes," she said, her voice firm. "You deserve someone who respects your boundaries, not just someone who only hears what they want to hear."

"I know," you whispered, feeling the weight of the situation. "I just... I don’t want to make things awkward or hurt him. But it’s hard when he just doesn’t get it."

She placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. "I get it, but you can’t keep ignoring how you feel just to protect him. You deserve to feel heard and respected, not like you have to change for someone else."

You nodded slowly, feeling the truth of her words settle in. "You're right. I just don’t know how to make him see that."

"Hey, give it some time. He might not understand now, but try talking to him again. I'm sure he'll come around."

------------------------

You and Jake were lounging on the couch in his apartment, your feet tangled in a blanket while a movie played softly in the background. The atmosphere was casual, comfortable. Your thoughts were still lingering on that conversation you had with Ava earlier, and it wasn’t until Jake suddenly perked up that you snapped back to the moment.

“Hey,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket with a grin. “Heeseung is throwing a party at his place later. Wanna come?”

You sighed, unsure. The idea of a party was definitely not appealing and you weren’t exactly in the mood for one of Jake’s big group hangouts with his friends. “I don’t know,” you said, hesitating. “I’m not really into your friends.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, the soft smile still on his lips. “Why not?” His voice was light, but you could hear the curiosity under it.

You shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to explain it without offending him. “Well… they’re not like you. They’re not sweet and gentle.” (yeah right.)

Jake’s expression softened at your words, and he let out a small laugh. “Aww, babe,” he murmured, leaning over and planting a quick kiss on your forehead. “Don’t worry. There are gonna be other people there too. I promise it won’t be all my friends. And you’re gonna have fun, I swear.”

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, not entirely convinced. You liked Jake. He was easy to be around, but his friends? You weren’t so sure. The idea of spending an evening with a bunch of loud, overly confident guys didn’t exactly excite you.

“I dunno, Jake…” you trailed off, still unsure.

Jake leaned in a little closer, his eyes soft and coaxing. “Come on, just for a little while,” he said, his voice sweet, almost pleading. “I’ll be right there with you the whole time. You won’t be alone, I promise. And I finally want to introduce my amazing girlfriend to my friends.”

At that, your heart softened just a little. He was just trying to make you feel included, and part of you wanted to make him happy. He had been so patient with you, always caring and thoughtful. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as you were imagining.

You hesitated, glancing at him and meeting his eyes. There was something about his sincerity that made it hard to say no.

“Okay, fine,” you gave in with a sigh, offering him a small smile. “But only because you’re gonna be right by my side the whole time. And if it gets awkward, we’re leaving.”

Jake’s grin widened as he pulled you in for a quick hug, his arms warm around you. “Deal,” he agreed, his voice bright. “We’ll make sure it’s fun. I promise you’re gonna have a great time.”

You felt the tension in your chest ease a little, but there was still a small part of you that wondered if this was a good idea. Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing Jake was determined to make it a night to remember.

And a night to remember, it was.

You recalled the booming bass of music, lights flickering and bouncing around the rooms, crowded bodies dancing together. It was your typical college party. The kind of place you’d avoid if it wasn’t for Jake’s hand firmly holding yours as he led you through the crowd. You couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, standing on the edges, unsure of where you fit in.

Jake noticed immediately, of course, and with his signature warmth, he pulled you closer. “See? I told you you’d be fine,” he said with a grin, his voice almost lost in the loud music, though he kept his tone reassuring. “Just relax. Let’s get a drink.”

You smiled back, trying to push down the knot in your stomach. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Jake, or even that you disliked his friends, but the scene was overwhelming. Bodies pressed too close together, the noise echoing in your skull, and the flashing lights making everything feel a little too surreal.

As you followed Jake through the crowd, you caught sight of his friends scattered throughout the room, laughter and conversations blending with the music. Heeseung was in the center, as expected, with a few other guys hanging out by the table, while a couple of girls chatted nearby.

Jake waved to them all as you approached, introducing you with a warm smile. “Hey, everyone, this is _____,” he said proudly, his hand on your back. “She’s a little shy, but I’m sure you’ll love her.”

You offered them a polite smile, trying to steady your nerves. They were all smiling back, their eyes friendly enough, but there was something in the air that made you feel like an outsider. They didn’t know you, not really, and as much as you tried to push that thought aside, it lingered.

“So, this is your girl, huh?” Heeseung asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m surprised, man. I thought you were all about the party scene, not settling down.”

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not about the party scene anymore. I’m all about her,” he said, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you a little closer.

You could feel your cheeks warm at his words, the possessiveness in his tone making you both giddy and uneasy. You smiled awkwardly, trying to stay in the moment, but the eyes of his friends were on you, analyzing, judging, like you were a puzzle they couldn’t figure out.

“Alright, alright, no need to embarrass the poor girl,” another one of his friends laughed, giving you a friendly wink. “Don’t worry, we’ll take it easy on you.”

You couldn’t decide if that was supposed to be comforting or not.

You stood there for what felt like probably hours, as Jake chatted away with his friends, eagerly accepting every drink offered to him, while you politely declined each one that came your way. Your eyes started to feel heavy from the monotony, a yawn escaping your lips as you were about to ask Jake to leave. But then, you felt it.

Jake's hand, gripping your ass from under your miniskirt. Out of fucking nowhere.

It was as if all of your senses heightened in that moment, eyes widening, darting around to see if anyone noticed. Thankfully—well, or maybe not—no one seemed to be paying attention. You did your best to force a smile, turning to Jake, but he was lost in conversation, laughing away with his friends, completely ignoring you while his grip just got even tighter, squeezing your ass to the point to where it stung.

You lightly (or not so lightly) tapped his side, trying to get his attention. After a moment, he finally turned his gaze toward you.

"Hmm?" he asked, almost innocently.

You gave him a pointed look, trying to hide the growing frustration that bubbled up inside you. "Jake," you said, your voice low but firm. "What the fuck are you doing."

The innocent expression on his face quickly faded, replaced by a stern glare that made you feel small and uneasy, a wave of fear creeping up your spine. He squeezed your ass again.

"Don't," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation as he noticed you trying to get the attention of his friends.

Then, without warning, he shifted his position. Where he had once been standing beside you, he was now directly behind you, his arms wrapping around you in a tight, possessive embrace, almost as if giving you a romantic back hug. But there was nothing romantic about this. Especially considering how he started to subtly grind himself against your ass. This immediately made every nerve in your body on high alert, your eyes flickering around out of embarrassment. All of Jake's friends were still gathered around, caught up in deep conversation. Some were drinking, others smoking, but they were all very much present. What completely threw you off, though, was how none of them seemed to notice what Jake was doing to you. The dimmed lights and the haze of drunken chatter certainly helped, but still. It was as if they were oblivious to everything happening just a few feet away.

"Jake, you're drunk," you said, your tone getting weaker by the second, but still trying to regain control of the situation. "Let's just go to the bathroom. We can continue in there if you want."

You hoped the suggestion would calm him down, give you both a moment of privacy away from the crowd, but as you looked at his face, the flicker of emotion there made you second-guess your words.

Jake just seemed oblivious to your growing discomfort, or maybe he just didn’t care. He ignored you completely, incessantly grinding his now hard cock into your ass, whimpering lightly right into your ear, where he began to lick and bite.

You felt humiliated at this point. How could nobody see what was happening? Were they just pretending not to notice, or did they simply not care? You looked uncomfortable, giving up on trying to appear normal, and now desperately trying to signal for help, hoping his friends might intervene. But nothing. No one noticed, or if they did, they turned a blind eye.

You didn't understand. Why was he acting like this? Sure, he was drunk, but that didn’t excuse what he was doing. His slurred words, his frantic movements, none of it made sense. He had crossed a line, and yet, in his haze, he seemed unaware of the damage he was causing.

"Jake, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling. You could feel the tears threatening to spill. "Let's just go."

"Shhh.." he whispered into your ear, sucking on it, clearly giving you no mind. His hands roamed from you waist all the way up your dress, until they reached your breasts, groping at the flesh and shoving his hand inside.

You couldn’t take it anymore. With all the strength you could muster, you grabbed his hands and threw them off of you, rushing out of the crowd. Your heart pounded in your chest, and adrenaline surged through your veins as you bolted towards the first door you could find. Without even thinking, you slammed it shut behind you and locked it.

You found yourself in the bathroom, staring at your reflection in the mirror. The lights flickered above you, casting a harsh glow on your tear streaked face. You barely recognized the person looking back at you—disheveled, disoriented, and utterly broken. You felt dirty, like his hands were still on you, even though you were now alone.

The tears came without warning, streaming down your face as you sank to your knees. You tried to catch your breath, but the overwhelming feeling of being violated, ignored, and trapped consumed you. How had it come to this? How could your sweet, loving boyfriend do this you? How could he treat you like this, especially so shamefully, right in front of all his friends? You felt betrayed, confused, and disgusted by the very person who had once seemed so perfect.

You hugged your knees to your chest, feeling the coldness of the bathroom floor seep into your skin, but it didn’t compare to the ice forming in your chest. Jake had always been the guy who made you feel safe, made you feel like you were the only one that mattered. But now? Now it felt like he’d turned into someone else, someone you didn’t even recognize.

You let out a shaky breath, wiping the tears off your face, but they kept coming. The humiliation lingered, gnawing at your insides. The fact that no one else had noticed—or maybe they had and didn’t care—made it worse. It made you feel so small, so invisible. But the worst part? It was Jake, the person you trusted, the one who said he loved you, who had done this to you.

You wished you could turn back time, make it all disappear. You just wanted to feel safe again.

You pulled out your phone with shaky hands, scrolling to Ava’s name and pressing call. The ringing felt like it lasted forever, but no one picked up. You tried again. Straight to voicemail.

It was too late at night. She was probably asleep, unaware that you were falling apart on the other end of the line. A strangled sob escaped your throat as you clutched your phone, feeling more alone than ever. You wanted someone, anyone, to help you, to pull you away from this nightmare.

After what felt like an eternity, you mustered up the courage to leave the bathroom. Your legs felt weak, your body still shaking as you opened the door and stepped out. The music was still blasting, the party still in full swing, as if nothing had happened. You scanned the room desperately, searching for a familiar face, someone who could get you out of here.

But everyone was too drunk, too caught up in their own world to notice the panic in your eyes. You approached a group standing nearby, your voice barely above a whisper. “Hey… can you help me?”

They barely acknowledged you. One girl gave you a fleeting glance before turning away. Another guy just laughed at something his friend said, completely oblivious.

No one cared.

And then you saw him.

He was already making his way toward you, his face painted with guilt, his steps quick and deliberate. Before you could react, he was in front of you, his hands reaching out.

“Baby,” he started, his voice soft, apologetic. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

You flinched away from his touch, the sight of him making your stomach turn. Anger, fear, and heartbreak crashed over you all at once, and suddenly, you were thrashing at him, pushing at his chest, hitting his arms. “Get away from me, Jake!” you choked out, your voice breaking. “Don’t touch me!”

But he just grabbed your wrists, his grip firm but not harsh. “Shhh,” he murmured, pulling you outside, away from the crowd. The cold night air hit you, but it wasn’t enough to stop the burning in your chest.

“Let go of me,” you sobbed, twisting in his grasp, but he wouldn’t let you.

Instead, he cupped your face and kissed you, forcefully, desperately. You tried to pull away, but he only deepened it, as if that would fix anything.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s go home, okay?” he coaxed, his voice gentle, as if nothing had happened. “I wasn’t thinking straight. Don’t be mad at me, baby.”

His hands stroked your arms as if to comfort you, but it felt suffocating.

“It won’t happen again,” he promised, his eyes pleading. “I love you.”

And just like that, he was leading you away from the party, his grip firm but careful, as if he hadn’t just shattered your trust into a million pieces.

By the time you both reached his apartment, Jake’s grip on your wrist had loosened, but the phantom weight of it still burned against your skin. As he fumbled with his keys, he shot you a small smile, his tone light, casual, even.

“Just remember, my roommate’s home, so we can’t be too loud, okay?”

You nodded numbly, but your mind spiraled. What would happen if you begged for help—would he even help you? Or would he just brush it off like everyone else at the party?

It seemed so simple, so easy. All you had to do was open your mouth.

But you couldn’t.

The words never came. The air felt too thick, the weight of Jake’s presence suffocating. It wasn’t fear exactly, it was something more complicated, something more deeply ingrained. Like no matter how much you wanted to, your body simply wouldn’t let you.

So when Jake was eventually leading you to his room while he undressed the both of you, stripping you both completely of any clothes, you just let him—too weak to put up a fight, too weak to resist the way his hand pressed against your body, touching you in ways that used to feel so loving and precious, to now malicious and unwanted.

You were just too exhausted to argue.

Your body felt heavy, like you were sinking into the floor with every step, but Jake didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

The door clicked shut behind you.

"Baby, you know I love you," he tried to tell you as he positioned himself in between your legs, spreading them wide, just like he did that day.

You couldn't even speak, not able to find the words, or maybe just too afraid to try. Your throat felt tight, like any attempt to talk would only come out as a broken whisper.

He brought his thumb up to your clit, rubbing gently at first, and then speeding up his movements. And as much as you hated it, your body reacted the way it wanted, with your hole getting wetter and your body heating up.

"C'mon, don't act like you don't like it," he said with a smirk, savoring the sight of you beneath him. So vulnerable, so weak. The feeling of control sent a rush through him.

Even with mascara streaks on your cheeks, tear stains, messy hair, dark circles, and swollen eyes, Jake still thought you looked beautiful. To him, you were breathtaking. Raw, unfiltered, completely his. He brushed a strand of messy hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your damp cheek.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are right now," he murmured, his voice dripping with something you couldn’t quite place. His thumb traced over your bottom lip, his eyes dark with emotion.

You wanted to recoil, to push him away, but your body felt heavy, drained. Instead, you just stared up at him, searching his face for any sign of the Jake you thought you knew. But you couldn't see anything.

This new feeling of power he had over you made his dick stand up, as he just stared at you and your emotionless eyes. Your face was sucked of all of it's life as he pushed his cock in, and this is where you realized that your boyfriend was gone. But he was never really ever there though. The man you thought you fell for, it all just crumbled before your eyes, revealing a stranger in his place. The man you thought you knew, the one who made you feel safe, had never truly existed.

"No, no stop. Pull out," you weakly attempted, hoping he would finally listen to you, but to no avail. He just kept on pushing in, sighing and momentarily pausing his movements once he bottomed out, before he was eventually pulling back and thrusting forward again.

"Don't worry, it'll feel good soon baby," he tried to hush you, but it only made things worse, intensifying the panic bubbling inside you as you struggled to push him away, your heart racing.

You shoved against his chest, panic rising as you struggled to break free. Every inch of you screamed to escape, but he wasn’t budging. His grip on your wrists tightened as he slammed you back against the bed. His eyes flashed with frustration.

“This is your warning,” he growled, voice low and threatening. “If you don’t stop, I won’t be nice anymore.”

But you didn’t care. If he wanted to play this game, you were going to play it. You continued to twist in his grasp as best as you could, determined to break free no matter what.

"Stop bitching," He grunted, his grip tightening as you continued to struggle. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, he didn't budge. His eyes burned with intensity as he held you in place, not showing any sign of his movements stopping inside of you. You could feel the tension in the air, but your defiance only grew stronger.

"Okay, that's it."

He seized a handful of your hair, the sharp sting of his unyielding grip making you cry out in pain. With a forceful tug, he yanked you off the bed, throwing you face first into the mattress. His weight pressed down on the back of your head, forcing you further into the fabric, the pressure relentless. You struggled for air, your screams drowned beneath the suffocating pressure of the mattress as you thrashed helplessly. Every movement felt weak, your body’s desperate attempts to break free only muffled in the fabric, leaving you feeling more trapped than ever.

"I told you," he began sternly. "I won't be nice anymore."

Keeping your head pinned against the bed with one hand, he pulled your arms behind your back, his grip unyielding as you fought against him. It was no use though, how the next thing you knew, he was shoving his full length into you all at once.

You screamed, the pain searing through you, unbearable and relentless. Every inch of your body screamed in protest, but the intensity only grew, leaving you feeling powerless and raw as he quickly built up a pace, so violent against your hole and violating your body in one go.

But the more you screamed, the tighter the pressure around your chest became, each gasp for air growing more desperate and shallow. The world around you seemed to blur, the pain and suffocation overwhelming every thought as you struggled for just a breath.

"Yeahhh... that's it," Jake sighed, moaning and throwing his head back.

"I like you better like this," he spat. He just couldn't help it. Your wetness was just jerking him off too good, pussy clenching around his cock, even though you hated every second of it.

That was what made it so intense—his absolute power over you. The way he controlled every movement, every breath you took, leaving you helpless and vulnerable. The fear mixed with something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name, but it made the struggle feel all the more real. His dominance was undeniable, and it made your every attempt to break free feel meaningless.

He just kept on going, slamming those muscular hips into yours, that were now probably bruised, weak, and way too sore to even stand up straight. At this point, you were too consumed by the struggle to breathe, your entire focus narrowing to each labored gasp. Everything else faded into the background—the pain, the fear, the fight—until all that mattered was the next breath, and even that felt like a distant hope. You stopped trying to fight it, the weight of it all crushing any will left to resist. It was as if you’d given up, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation of being trapped in this moment.

The pleasure you once felt from your boyfriend was now twisted, a distant memory drowned by the overwhelming sensations that felt far from comforting. What had once ignited warmth and connection now left you hollow, the intimacy corrupted by the force of control. Every touch that used to feel reassuring now seemed to carry a weight, shifting from something you craved to something you no longer recognized.

Your vision started to blur, the edges of everything softening as if a fog was slowly creeping in. The sounds of Jake's cock and your arousal squelching together became distant, muffled, like they were coming from underwater. Your thoughts turned hazy, slipping through your mind like water through your fingers, leaving only fragments of clarity. It was as if the world was dissolving into a haze, and no matter how hard you tried to hold on, everything felt heavier, slower, more distant.

As your consciousness began to slip away, your thoughts became a fractured blur. You could feel the edges of reality fading, like sinking into a dreamless void. The pain dulled into a distant echo, and the struggle to breathe became a quiet, desperate rhythm in the back of your mind. A sense of surrender washed over you, as if everything was slipping through your fingers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. The world grew darker, quieter, until it all faded into nothing.

------------------------

The days after what happened felt like a blur of weakness, an overwhelming numbness that clung to every part of you. Your body was there, moving, but it didn’t feel like yours. You went through the motions, eating, sleeping, and existing, but the life had drained out of you, leaving you hollow. Jake begged you to stay with him for a few nights after what happened. He told you how sorry he was, how he’d messed up, and promised that he could make it up to you by being the "perfect boyfriend" again by cooking for you, cuddling you, treating you like nothing had changed. He even said he would make sure you felt happy again. And part of you wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that things could go back to normal, that somehow you could undo everything that had broken inside you.

But that wasn’t how it worked.

You didn’t know how to explain to Ava what had happened. You didn’t know how to say it aloud, to break down in front of her, to admit how broken you felt, how you’d lost yourself in a way that felt too overwhelming to put into words. It was too much, and the fear of being seen as a mess, of having her look at you with pity or confusion, kept you silent. So you stayed with Jake. You stayed in his room, cocooned in the strange comfort of him pretending everything was fine. He acted like nothing had changed, like the hurt he’d caused wasn’t there, and for a while, you let him.

You hadn’t gone to class in days. The weight of everything kept you locked in that room, a prisoner of your own inability to face what had happened. Jake was your only form of “entertainment,” your only distraction from the mess inside your head, even though, he was the one who planted that mess in the first place. But as much as you tried to convince yourself it was fine, the truth was clear: You were never the same after that night. Jake noticed, though not in the way you might’ve hoped. He noticed the way you didn’t smile anymore, the way your once sharp arguments with him turned into silence. He noticed how you withdrew into yourself, your eyes dull, your words fewer. But he didn’t care. In his mind, you were still his, still under his control, and that was all that mattered. Maybe to him, you were better like this.

Days passed in this strange, disconnected state. You no longer felt like yourself, but you didn’t know how to fight back or even what to fight for. The numbness only deepened, and you wondered if you would ever feel like you again.

Eventually, you couldn’t avoid facing the outside world forever. After almost a week, Jake agreed to let you go back to your place, so you could finally fix yourself up a bit.

You walked through the door of your apartment, expecting to be greeted with concern, with Ava asking where you’d been, why you hadn’t been answering her calls, why you hadn’t been to class. You expected a wave of relief, a safe place where someone might understand. But when you saw her standing there, her expression wasn’t relief—it was frustration, anger even.

She demanded to know where you had been, her voice sharp with worry and annoyance. “You’ve been gone for days. You didn’t show up for class. You wouldn’t pick up my calls, and now you just walk in here like everything’s fine?” Her words felt like a slap. “I was worried sick!”

You opened your mouth, wanting to say everything—everything that had happened with Jake, the way he’d broken you, how trapped you felt, how empty you were now. But as soon as you tried to speak, the words stuck in your throat. You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t tell her what had happened. Not like this. Not in a way that would make her understand.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, trying to explain, but the words felt weak, disjointed. You wanted to say that Jake had hurt you, that everything had changed in ways you couldn’t explain. But when you looked at Ava’s face, you saw the doubt in her eyes, the skepticism.

“Jake?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “Jake is the nicest guy ever, you know that. Everyone loves him. He’s never even laid his hands on a fly.” Her words were sharp, cutting you off. “I don’t understand. Why would you even say something like that?”

The disbelief in her voice hit you harder than you expected. You wanted to tell her how wrong she was, how much you wished she could see the truth, but instead, you felt smaller. Like a part of you was breaking in front of her.

“I... I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just need help, Ava. Please.”

But she wasn’t listening. She backed away, her arms crossed over her chest as if she couldn’t even fathom what you were saying. “I don’t even know if I can trust you anymore. I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Her words cut deep, and with each one, you felt more isolated, more abandoned in your own confusion.

Your heart sank. You had hoped she would believe you, hoped she would understand, but instead, she questioned you, as if what you were saying was the lie. The emptiness inside you grew, as if the world was slipping through your fingers. You were alone, and even the one person you thought would be there for you couldn’t, and wouldn’t understand. You weren’t sure how to fix any of this, or even if it could be fixed. All you knew was that you were broken, and no one seemed to care enough to help put you back together.

You came running back to Jake, broken, sobbing, feeling like there was nothing left of you. Everything you had known, everything you had thought was secure, was falling apart. Ava had turned her back on you, your closest friend, the one person you thought would understand. She didn’t believe you. She wouldn’t listen to the pain you’d endured, wouldn’t see the truth of what had happened. Her trust was gone, and with it, so was any semblance of the life you had before. Your family, too, was slipping away. You had pushed them all so far, not responding to any of their calls or messages, unsure how to explain what you were going through, or if you even could. The space between you and them only grew with each passing day.

Jake shushed you gently, his hands moving to soothe you as if he could wipe away the pain with each soft touch. He pulled you into his chest, cooing softly, assuring you that everything was fine now. You didn’t need anyone but him. He was there for you, he would always take care of you. He whispered over and over that everything would be okay, that the people who hurt you, your friends, your family, didn’t matter. He was all you needed now.

You found yourself spiraling, withdrawing more and more into the safety of Jake's arms. He was the only constant left in your life. The only person who seemed to care, or at least, you told yourself he did. He welcomed you back with open arms every time you ran to him, his hands soothing as he whispered over and over how sorry he was for everything, how he didn’t mean to hurt you. He promised he would make it up to you, and for some reason, you let yourself believe it. The promises of making things right, it felt comforting, like you were returning to something familiar.

And the more you spent time with him, the more you realized just how much of your life was slipping away. You stopped going to class, stopped seeing your friends, stopped reaching out to your family. You let it all go, burying yourself in Jake’s world. He was your everything now, your only source of comfort, your only form of connection.

And when Ava moved out of the apartment a few weeks later, it was like the final piece fell into place for Jake. He wasted no time in moving his things in with you. At first, you told yourself it was a relief. Now you’d have him all to yourself, no distractions, no one to intervene. But as he settled in, things began to change.

Jake’s presence started to feel suffocating. He had you all to himself now, and the isolation was complete. You no longer had anyone to lean on, no one to offer a second opinion, no one to speak truth to your doubts. He knew exactly what he was doing. He watched you, broken and fragile, clinging to him as though he were the only thing keeping you afloat. He could see it in your eyes, the vulnerability, the desperation. You were easy to manipulate now, and he wasn’t about to let that slip away. Every word he spoke was calculated, every story he spun designed to pull you deeper into his web.

He fed you lies, yes, but they weren’t just lies, they were carefully crafted truths, twisted versions of events that only he could control. He knew exactly what to say to make you doubt everything you thought you knew. With every lie, with every slanted version of reality, he watched your perception of the world begin to crumble, piece by piece.

You remembered that one night, months ago, when Ava had told you about how she kissed Jake during a spin the bottle game. It resurfaced in your mind randomly, and curious to hear his side of it, you hesitantly brought it up to Jake.

But when you mentioned it, Jake’s eyes turned cold for a moment. He shook his head vehemently. “No,” he said, voice tight. “Ava tried making moves on me that day. She was obsessed with me, always had been. But I never really reciprocated. She just couldn’t take a hint, you know?” He said it with such conviction, his words painting her in a way you hadn’t considered before.

The more you thought about it, the more it made sense. You started to believe that Jake was the only one who truly cared about you, the only one who understood you, and anyone else—especially Ava—was just a threat to your relationship.

He could see the doubt forming in your eyes, the way you hesitated before speaking, and he knew it was working. He was twisting the truth, slowly erasing the foundation you had built your friendships and relationships on. You were starting to believe him. It made him feel powerful, like he was the one who controlled your reality now. You were his.

And the best part? You didn’t even realize how deep he had dug in. He wasn’t just convincing you of lies, he was rewriting your entire past, making you question everything, even yourself. He was the one who had become your anchor, and the more he spoke, the more you trusted him, even when you felt a strange unease. The more you doubted the people who had once been in your life, the more you needed him. And Jake knew that. He thrived on it.

You didn’t realize it at first, but you started to build an entirely new narrative in your head. You told yourself that Ava had never been your friend at all, that she had been a threat to your relationship with Jake from the beginning. That’s why she was so mad when you tried to tell her what Jake had done to you. She didn’t care about your pain, she was just angry that you had gotten in the way of what she wanted. You convinced yourself that she was jealous, that she wanted Jake all along. The realization felt bitter and suffocating, but you pushed it down. You believed Jake. You had to. He was the only one who had stuck by you, the only one who hadn’t betrayed you.

And so, you cut ties. One by one, you stopped answering your friends’ calls, stopped replying to their messages. You didn’t need them anymore. They didn’t understand. They never would. Your best friend was gone, and with her, your past life. You blocked her number, you blocked all of them. Jake was the only one who remained. Jake was all you had left, and in some twisted way, you were okay with that.

------------------------

As the days turned into weeks, you felt yourself slowly becoming more isolated, but Jake reassured you that this was how it was supposed to be. He was all you needed. And when he started packing up his things to officially move in with you, you helped him, eager to keep the peace, to build the life that seemed perfect. But that’s when you stumbled upon something that shattered everything.

As you were helping Jake pack, moving boxes from his old place into yours, you found something you weren’t meant to see. Buried beneath a pile of clothes and books were items that didn’t belong to him. Items that were yours. Your things—your jewelry, your lost underwear, personal things you had kept in your apartment. You froze, a sick feeling twisting in your stomach as the truth hit you. You’d never realized it before, but now, it was all laid out in front of you.

Suddenly, it all clicked. You remembered how your bedroom door had never been pushed all the way closed that one day, or how something just felt off in the room, like a presence that wasn’t supposed to be there. You remembered all those clothes that had gone missing over the past few weeks, the shirts, the panties, the things you never thought to question before. It was as if everything you’d ignored or brushed off was now flooding your mind, each detail falling into place, connecting the dots in a way that made your stomach drop. The realization hit you hard, like a cold wave crashing over you.

Those subtle changes, those small signs that you had convinced yourself were nothing. Now, they felt like undeniable evidence.

He had been there. He had been in your space, when you weren’t looking. It was all starting to make sense, but the truth was so much darker than you had ever imagined.

You thought you knew him. You thought you had control over your own life. But now, as the pieces fell together, you understood just how much of it had all been carefully orchestrated. You hadn’t just been blind to his manipulation, you had been living in it, suffocating beneath it. And it wasn’t just your trust he had stolen. It was everything.

Jake had been here, in your life, controlling everything in ways you never even realized, and as the truth crashed down on you, you stood there, frozen, not knowing whether to scream, run, or finally face the man who had torn your world apart.

[alaia777]

HII OMG CONGRATS ON 200 <333 can u please do

⊹ what’s with that face? are you about to cry? with nagi, hurt with comfort at the end PLS AND THANK U MWAH

hellooo, thank you so muchhhh !!! :’))) i didn’t expect it to get this long, but here we are. i hope you like it!

you were tired. so, so tired. you had to wake up early today to finalize a report that was due for review, double-checking data and formatting everything according to the company’s painfully specific guidelines. on top of that, you somehow got stuck handling part of your coworker’s workload—again—because they conveniently “forgot” about a deadline. and as if that wasn’t enough, your boss wasn’t satisfied with the presentation slides you had prepared, requesting multiple revisions that kept you in the office two hours past your usual time.

the only thing that kept you going was the thought of finally going home to a clean house, taking a warm bath, and maybe later relaxing with your boyfriend. but unfortunately, that was not the plan, because the moment you opened the door, what greeted you was far from your dream.

the pillows and cushions from the couch were scattered across the floor, some even kicked aside carelessly. the kitchen island was covered in empty takeout containers, half-eaten snacks, and crumbs trailing onto the floor. a couple of soda cans sat tipped over, their contents dried into sticky patches on the counter. and the cherry on top? the sports equipment that nagi had left right in the middle of the room—the very thing you almost tripped over the second you stepped inside.

“ah, you’re back,” your boyfriend said lazily as he stepped out of your shared bathroom, console in hand. he didn’t even glance up, too absorbed in his game to notice the way you were frozen in place. “should we order some food?”

you took a deep breath, trying—and failing—not to let your frustration boil over. “nagi,” you started, voice tight, “why does the apartment look like this?”

“like what?”

you blinked at him, utterly baffled. “what do you mean like what? can’t you see this mess?” your voice rose with each word. “i already spend my whole day babysitting my coworker at work—do i really have to come home and do the same thing for you?”

the words tumbled out before you could stop them, sharp and exhausted, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take them back.

nagi barely spared you a glance, fingers still lazily tapping at his console. “jeez, dramatic much?” he muttered, shifting his weight onto the couch. “if you hate being here so much, you could’ve just stayed at work. seems like you like babysitting, anyway.”

he finally looked up then, an almost bored expression on his face. “not my fault you stress yourself out over everything,” he added, shrugging. “maybe if you stopped nagging for once, you wouldn’t be so tired.”

you couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of nagi’s mouth. you stood frozen in place, your mind struggling to keep up with the shock of it all. your mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. you were too stunned to form a proper response, the sting of his words cutting deeper than you expected.

it hurt. it really hurt. you hated how much it stung, how his indifference felt like a slap in the face. this was such a stupid thing to cry over. you knew that, but the exhaustion from the day, the weight of your work, and the frustration of it all came crashing down in a way you couldn’t control.

but what really tipped you over the edge was what he said next.

“what’s with that face? are you about to cry?”

the way he said it—casual, almost mocking—sent a jolt through you. the tears you’d been holding back finally slipped free, and you turned away, taking a deep breath, quickly checking your pockets for your keys before heading straight for the door. you couldn’t stay in the same place as him for another second without doing something you’d regret—like throwing something at his head.

“what—where are you going?” you heard him call after you, his voice laced with confusion.

you didn’t look back, not until you reached the door. just before you closed it behind you, you caught a glimpse of his face. he looked different—almost apologetic. his eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape, as if the realization of what he’d just said was finally hitting him. for a brief moment, you saw the vulnerability in his expression, the way his shoulders slumped a little, but you couldn’t let it stop you.

without another word, you closed the door softly, leaving the apartment behind.

and so, you spent the next hour and a half in a diner just 15 minutes from your place, eating some sad meal that, on any other day, you would have enjoyed. but tonight, it felt hollow. sitting there alone, with nothing but your thoughts swirling around in your head, it wasn’t helping. the memory of what had just happened earlier lingered, refusing to fade away. your phone kept buzzing, notifications from nagi lighting up the screen. 50 messages.

you didn’t bother reading them. instead, you turned your phone off. were you being dramatic? maybe. but honestly, you didn’t care. he should be able to clean up after himself. he was an adult, after all. but then, there were those days when you were struggling, and he was there for you—cleaning up after you, trying to cook despite the disasters in the kitchen, doing his best to make you smile. you would do the same for him.

the thought hit you with a pang of guilt, but you pushed it away, breathing in deeply for the 100th time today. you finished your meal, paid for it, and decided to just go home. you needed a break, a well-deserved bath, and a little time to clear your head. tomorrow, you’d think about what you should do, what steps to take next. for now, all you wanted was peace.

you got home, expecting the usual mess that awaited you, but to your surprise, the apartment was spotless. everything was in its place—no clothes strewn across the floor, no half-empty cups or dishes left around. the countertops were clean, the pillows neatly arranged on the couch, and there, on the table, were the pastries you loved. it was almost like he’d read your mind, or at least, knew exactly how to soften the tension that had been brewing.

before you could even process what you were seeing, the sound of the bathroom door opening caught your attention. your boyfriend appeared in the doorway, cheeks flushed like he’d run a marathon, his usually demeanor suddenly nowhere to be found.

“where were you? why didn’t you answer your phone?” he asked, coming up to you with a concerned look. his voice was different—no teasing, no playfulness, just genuine worry. he reached out to take your hand, but you froze, your thoughts still racing.

“i didn’t think you’d actually leave,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, almost as if he regretted what had happened earlier. there was a hesitation in his eyes, a subtle shift in his usual nonchalance, and you could feel the weight of his uncertainty.

“listen—” you started, but he cut you off, his tone more serious than usual.

“no, please, let me speak first,” he said, sounding a bit more intense than his usual carefree self. he looked at you, his gaze uncharacteristically hesitant. “look, i’m sorry, alright? i didn’t mean to make you feel like i didn’t care. i shouldn’t have said that, and i know it was dumb. i get it now.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly not used to being the one who needed to apologize. “i don’t really—i mean, i don’t always think before i speak, but that doesn’t make it right. i know you’re not just tired from work, you were probably stressed out, and the last thing you needed was me being an idiot.”

nagi paused for a moment, his usual smugness replaced with a rare, honest vulnerability. “i’m not good with.. this kind of stuff, but i don’t want to make you feel like crap. i messed up.”

he stood there, still avoiding your gaze, but you could see the slight shift in his posture—almost like he was waiting for you to say something. it was clear now: he really was sorry.

you took a deep breath, letting the tension in your shoulders ease just a little. “nagi” you started, your voice softer now. “i know you’re sorry, and i get it. i’m not mad at you, i’m just really tired. all i want right now is a warm bath and to curl up with you. can we talk about this tomorrow when i’ve had some rest and a clearer head?”

you looked at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “i don’t want to hold onto this, i just need to recharge, okay?”

you could see the relief in his eyes, the guilt easing from his face. he nodded slowly, finally offering you a small, genuine smile. “yeah, of course,” he said, taking a step closer to you. “take your time.”

you let yourself fall into his chest, feeling his arms wrap around you. for a moment, you just stood there, letting the warmth of his embrace melt away the tension. it wasn’t perfect, but it felt safe, and that was all you needed right now. you closed your eyes, taking in the quiet comfort, and for the first time today, you felt a little lighter. everything else could wait until tomorrow. for now, it was just the two of you, and that was enough.

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter thirty: Fractured Lines

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

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The room felt emptier without him.

You sat still for a moment, staring at the closed door as if willing In-ho to come back, as if that soft click of the latch hadn’t been the final word in a conversation you weren’t sure how to continue.

But he wasn’t coming back—not yet, at least.

With a slow breath, you pushed yourself out of bed, feeling the ache in your muscles from the tension of the night before. The bathroom was dimly lit, the glow from the vanity lights casting soft shadows across the marble countertop. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, studying the way your face seemed different, like something had shifted inside of you overnight.

Maybe it had.

The Panther Mask was gone. And you knew better than to ask how.

The thought should have unsettled you more than it did. Instead, it felt like an unspoken answer to a question you hadn’t dared to voice. A reminder that In-ho wasn’t just the man who shared this space with you—he was something much more dangerous.

And yet, you weren’t afraid of him.

You turned on the faucet, splashing cool water onto your face, letting it ground you. The morning was already creeping in, and soon, the world outside this room would demand something from you. A performance. A role to play.

And you weren’t sure if you had the strength to play it today.

By the time you left the bedroom, the halls were already buzzing with quiet activity. Guards moved in disciplined formations, their masked faces unreadable as they passed by. The air smelled of something rich—breakfast, maybe—but you weren’t hungry.

You expected to find In-ho in his usual place: standing at the main observation deck, overseeing everything with that same unreadable expression. Instead, you found him where you least expected—alone, in the lounge.

He was seated on one of the leather chairs, one hand resting against his temple, his other gripping a steaming cup of coffee. His mask was back in place.

For a second, you considered walking away. Giving him the space he so clearly wanted. But instead, your feet carried you forward.

“In-ho,” you said, your voice careful, testing the distance between you.

He didn’t look up at first, just took a slow sip of his coffee before finally acknowledging you. “You’re awake.”

“You left.”

His fingers tensed around the cup. “There was work to do.”

You exhaled through your nose, stepping closer. “That’s not why you left.”

A beat of silence stretched between you.

“I warned you,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. “That it’s better this way.”

Better for who? You wanted to ask. Instead, you crossed your arms. “You think shutting me out is some kind of protection?”

In-ho didn’t answer, but you could see it in the way his jaw tightened.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you pressed. “Letting me in one second and shutting me out the next.”

Still, no response.

Your frustration simmered. “I’m not afraid of you.”

At that, his gaze snapped up to meet yours, something sharp and unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “You should be.”

You shook your head. “I’m not.”

The tension in the air was suffocating, charged with something unsaid, something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

And yet, despite everything—despite the walls he built around himself, despite the violence that lurked just beneath his calm exterior—you couldn’t bring yourself to step away.

Because, in some way, you knew this was as close as he could come to protecting you.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want him to stop.

———————

30!!!!! We’re getting up there in numbers! I think I might drag the burn on a little bit more, I once read a slow burn that took 80 chapters for them to hold hands, I won’t make it that extreme tho lmao. Lemme know what you think!! :)

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[preppyacademy]

Breaking and Remaking : No Thoughts, Only Obedience

Kyle or Prescott's story

Kyle was in his senior year of high school and part of the football team. Academics were secondary for him—it was sports in the morning, sports at noon, and sports in the evening. He hoped to earn a scholarship by being one of the top athletes in his school. Unfortunately, Kyle always acted before thinking, which sometimes led to avoidable accidents.

One game night in early November, his team faced an opposing high school team. Kyle, prone to arrogance, didn’t warm up much, believing he didn’t need to—after all, he was one of the strongest players. His team was scoring well, but in the final decisive minutes, time seemed to slow down. Rain had started to fall, making the field slick. As he caught the ball mid-air, Kyle slipped on the wet grass and crashed violently to the ground before being tackled by several other players. His teammates, still in action, grabbed the ball and scored, securing victory.

As for Kyle, he ended the night in the hospital. His team won, but his medical results were far from victorious. A fractured collarbone, six to twelve weeks of recovery, immobilization, and rehabilitation. He was told he had to remain bedridden for weeks before he could even move.

Kyle had no choice. The hospital that admitted him had to transfer him to a specialized rehabilitation center, located six hours away but renowned as one of the best. His family spared no expense, wanting only the best care for him.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Kyle felt well received. He quickly noticed that most of the staff were male, which struck him as unusual. He was assigned to Dr. Pritchard.

Dr. Pritchard: "You’ll be well taken care of here. You’ll be staying with us for at least six weeks, possibly ten if your condition doesn’t improve. I hope we’ll get along well."

Kyle: "I hope so too."

The first few nights, Kyle struggled to sleep. The feeling of being far from home and his friends weighed heavily on him. Moreover, a low, constant noise resonated throughout his room—a repeating frequency that played over and over. The following nights were the same, but Kyle gradually became accustomed to the sound.

Dr. Pritchard: "I know time may feel slow, but here, rehabilitation is not just about physical recovery—it’s also about relaxing your mind and body. From now on, no more phone screens. We took yours last night. You need rest and must adapt to our institution’s methods."

Kyle was furious but couldn’t fight back—his body was in too much pain, forcing him to comply with the medical staff’s instructions. How was he supposed to survive weeks without his phone?

Dr. Pritchard: "When you wake up, the screens in your room will display relaxation and meditation videos. Follow them, and you’ll see—time will pass much more quickly here."

The next morning marked the beginning of Kyle’s first session with the videos. They consisted of breathing techniques and mantras to repeat. A spiral accompanied the voice-over, guiding him through the instructions.

Kyle, repeating the words: "I feel good, my body is relaxed, I let myself be carried by the waves, my mind sinks deeper into the abyss, I feel calm, every word I hear is a new way of thinking to embrace, to listen, and to learn."

Each day, Kyle was captivated—hypnotized—by these screens, which seemed to absorb his attention completely. Slowly, his thoughts began to change, and time passed in a rhythm dictated by the spiral and the mantras. Over time, the words evolved into something else.

Kyle, repeating the words: "I feel good, I am happy, my body is relaxed, my mind sinks deeper into the abyss. I am obedient, I listen to what I am told, I must act as I am instructed, I feel calm, I love to obey, I want to learn to obey."

As the days and weeks passed, Kyle healed not only physically but mentally as well, thanks to the soothing words of the spiral. His mind was gradually shaped into a model of perfection, discipline, and obedience.

Kyle: "I wish to submit to the orders of superior men, I wish to obey them, I wish to be submissive. I wish to be submissive. I wish to be submissive."

Dr. Pritchard: "Good boy. You have found true relaxation within your body."

Like a machine executing programmed instructions, Kyle regained mobility in his body. His absolute obedience, now stripped of all arrogance and rebellion, made rehabilitation much easier.

Then, the final week of his stay arrived. Kyle sat on his bed, staring into the distance, still repeating the obedience mantra.

Kyle: "I listen, I obey, I serve. My will is that of the Academy. To doubt is to fail. To resist is to fall. Order is my truth, obedience is my virtue. I bend, I disappear, I become. Every command is an honor, every task a privilege. I do not need to think—only to answer: Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "Good boy, you make me proud. You’ve done well in your exercises, and now, after ten weeks, your time with us has come to an end. Unfortunately, we must make room for new arrivals like you."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "As you say—'your will is that of the Academy.' Your mind has been shaped for the Academy—the Preppy Academy, to be precise. Would you like to join the Academy, my boy?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "You no longer wish to return to your old high school, correct?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "You will remain a good boy—obedient and disciplined?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "We will now relieve you of these hospital clothes—you no longer need them."

Dr. Pritchard placed a harmonization device over Kyle’s head. It resembled a large lamp with a metallic tube beneath it, sending electric signals into the subject’s brain. He activated it while Kyle continued to chant his desire to obey.

Kyle remained immobilized, paralyzed by the machine—unable to move of his own will. In his mind, the words "Obedience," "Submission," "Discipline" flashed over and over again.

Two nurses arrived, cut off Kyle's clothes and stripped him naked. Dr. Pritchard pulled a chastity cage from a drawer and locked Kyle's penis in it. He locked the cage and gave the key to a nurse, who left with it.

Dr. Pritchard: "You'll learn that your sex is no longer of any use to you; it belongs to the Academy. You only need it to urinate, because that's a natural need. But to urinate, you'll have to ask permission. If you feel pleasure, your penis, now the size of a phalanx, will be compressed, you'll feel pain and you'll learn to live with pain. Pain is a gift to be cherished, the very essence of a good Preppy Academy student. The more time passes, the more you won't even feel it anymore, you'll get used to what you've become."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Kyle did not flinch. Who he had been just weeks ago had disappeared into the abyss of his mind. Sometimes, though rarely now, he could hear a faint inner voice telling him this wasn’t him, urging him to fight. But that voice was slowly drowning beneath the waves of his consciousness.

Dr. Pritchard: "Now, we will dress you. You haven't learned this here yet, but you will soon understand that being a good boy means being elegant at all times. Appearance is an extension of your obedience. It’s not about having style—it’s about proving your submission through every detail of your attire. Dressing preppy is fundamental. It is a duty, not a choice."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Kyle was dressed from head to toe, like a boy being sent off to school. A neatly pressed, button-down plaid white shirt, tucked into light khaki shorts held up by thick brown suspenders. Long white socks and polished black loafers completed the outfit, along with a large, subtly checkered bow tie.

When Dr. Pritchard tied the bow tie around Kyle’s neck, Kyle opened his mouth—not in surprise, but as if this attire had been meant for him all along, as if the relaxation of feeling truly himself in this clothing had loosened his jaw. His body and mind understood: he was meant to be a good preppy boy.

Dr. Pritchard: "That’s a good boy."

By late morning, Kyle was transferred to the Preppy Academy, placed in a class appropriate for his age. He was quickly integrated among other students eager to learn submission, obedience, and discipline.

He embraced the academy’s dress code without hesitation, developing a particular fondness for plaid patterns—the very motif Dr. Pritchard had introduced him to. In time, the administration and Kyle himself sent a letter to his family, informing them of his transfer and his wish to continue his education at the Preppy Academy.

Kyle’s father had heard of the institution through a friend whose son had returned home completely transformed—eventually becoming the family’s butler. Pleased with the results, and reassured that this was Kyle’s own request, his parents placed their trust in him.

Dr. Pritchard frequently visited the Academy to check on Kyle. Over time, he began calling him Prescott—his middle name—which suited him far better and carried a more refined sound.

Dr. Pritchard became Master to Prescott, who, with the Academy’s approval, would come to serve him every weekend—submissive and obedient. For example, he offered him his mouth to be filled with the doctor's cock from times to times.

Dr. Pritchard decided how Prescott should dress. He had even noticed during Prescott’s hospitalization that he often squinted from staring at the spiral for too long. As a result, he gifted him a pair of elegant glasses—enhancing his preppy and exemplary style even further.

Far from the field, far from his arrogance, Prescott had become a good boy. He could thank the Preppy Academy for that.

Who’s next?

[gleamingseok]

When the curtains stay open - pt1

What started as an accident became an invitation neither of you could resist

Pairing : neighbour Jungkook x reader

Genre: fluff, smut, SMUT, ( masturbation, exhibition, voyeurism)

___________________________________________

The night was quiet, Jungkook  had just finished a late night workout, his damp hair sticking to his forehead, when he mindlessly wandered toward his window. He had a perfect view of your apartment which he always had.  Your bedroom directly across from his, separated only by a few feet and two glass panes.

Most nights, he’d catch glimpses of you when getting ready for bed, reading, sometimes staring out at the night sky, lost in thought. But tonight… tonight was different.

His eyes landed on you, and his breath caught in his throat.

You were on your bed, legs spread, one hand buried between them, the other gripping the sheets. Your head was tilted back, lips slightly parted, your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The dim light of your bedside lamp cast golden shadows on your skin, highlighting every curve, every delicious movement of your fingers.

Jungkook froze, gripping the edge of his window, his eyes darkening.

Fuck.

He shouldn’t be looking, he should look away. He should close the blinds, give you privacy.

But then your head turned, and your gaze locked onto his.

For a moment, neither of you moved. His heart pounded, heat rushing through his veins. He expected you to stop, to shut your curtains in embarrassment.

But you didn’t.

Instead, your lips curled into the faintest smirk, and your fingers kept moving.

Jungkook’s cock twitched in his sweats as the realization settled in, you were putting on a show for him.

His hand moved instinctively, palming the growing bulge through his pants. You noticed, your eyes flickering down to his lap, and something about the way you bit your lip, teasing him without a single word, made him lose the last shred of control he had.

His hand dipped beneath the waistband of his sweats, wrapping around his hard length, stroking slowly. His eyes never left you, watching the way your hips bucked into your own touch, the way your fingers worked yourself open. The way you moaned, just loud enough that he swore he could hear it through the glass.

"Fuck," he exhaled, letting his head fall back for a second before meeting your gaze again.

Your movements slowed, teasing him, making him wait. Your fingers slid up your slick folds, circling your clit in slow motions making sure he saw every second of it. His grip tightened, stroking himself faster, the need to be inside you, to replace your fingers with his own, making his entire body throb.

And then, you did something that nearly ended him.

You brought your fingers to your lips, slipping them into your mouth, tasting yourself eyes locked on his the whole time.

Jungkook groaned, running his tongue over his bottom lip, his jaw clenching. "You’re fucking evil," he muttered, knowing you couldn’t hear him but hoping you could read it on his lips.

You simply smirked.

But two could play this game.

Still holding his length, he pushed his sweatpants down just enough to free himself completely. The sight of his cock thick, flushed, glistening with precum made your legs squeeze together, your fingers working even faster.

"Good girl," he murmured, watching your eyes widen slightly at the praise. "So fucking desperate for me, aren’t you?"

You moaned, throwing your head back, fingers plunging inside yourself, his strokes turning rougher, more erratic. His breath came out in ragged pants, his muscles tensing, so close to unraveling.

But he wanted to watch you fall apart first.

"Cum for me," he rasped, voice thick with lust. "Let me see you."

Your fingers moved faster, chasing the high, your moans growing louder. The sight of Jungkook, fisting his cock across from you, eyes locked on your every movement, had you loosing your mind. The tension coiled tighter and tighter until

Your back arched, body trembling, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as you came, waves of pleasure crashing through you. Your fingers didn’t stop, working yourself through it, hips rolling into your own touch.

Jungkook groaned, watching you come undone pushing him right to the edge. His strokes turned frantic, his abs clenching, his thighs tightening,  "Fuck," he growled, throwing his head back as he came, thick ropes of white spilling over his hand, his body shuddering with release. His breaths were heavy, his heart racing, but his eyes were back on you the second he came down from his high.

Your fingers were still lazily tracing your swollen folds, and that damn smirk was back on your lips.

Jungkook let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "You’re gonna be the death of me," he muttered.

You stretched, looking thoroughly satisfied, before reaching over to switch off your lamp. But before your room went dark, you met his gaze one last time.

And then, with a wink, you were gone.

Jungkook exhaled, raking a hand through his damp hair, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

This little game between you two? It was far from over.

[dyingswanpavlova]

Your ghostly lover

Chapter 1

Pairing: Jaime Lannister × Targaryen!Reader × Aemond Targaryen

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Mentions of Violence and Murder, Mentions of Forced Marriage, Threatening, Isolation, Loneliness, Ghosts and Spirits, Joffrey being Joffrey and butchering some rats

Author's note: This is a House of the Dragon/Game of Thrones-Crossover. The first chapter takes place in the past. The wedding doesn't take place until the Reader is 19.

You're one of the last two living Targaryens. While your sister Daenerys roams free across the Narrow Sea, you're being forced to marry the man who once killed your father. The Kingslayer has yet to find out about the spirit that lives in your mirror and his evil plans.

Six Years Ago

Life was a terrible thing.

In your book, things were going pretty roughly. Was it destiny? Fate? Or maybe you were made to suffer, because of the mistakes you made in your past life. Another theory you had was that you had to pay for the terrible things your ancestors did. Your father, for a start, had been a terrible person. That much was out of question.

Your sister was on her best way to destroy the rest of the world.

Your brothers, they were more complicated. Viserys had been a lost cause, ever since he had been forced to flee. Of course life had taken a toll on him, but did that really make up for all the terrible things he did?

Rhaegar. Rhaegar had been…good, or so you thought. So you had heard.

You missed him. Actually, you missed them all. Without even knowing them.

You were the youngest, the babe of the family, if so you wish. But that didn’t help you much back in the day.

As problems come, this one came fast and unexpected. Your eldest brother died in battle, while your father got murdered by the man who swore to protect him. The same man you were now forced to wed.

Poor, little you. Too tiny and helpless, nothing more than a bundle of joy and youthfulness, when life took its toll on your family. Everyone else either made it out or got butchered.

Daenerys and Viserys were gone. Viserys made sure of it. And of course, he tried his best to keep you safe as well. But to take care of two little babes at once? When he, himself, was no more than a boy?

He set you down for no longer than a minute, desperate to find a way to get out of this godforsaken place. He only had two arms, and yet two little bundles to carry. Three mouths to feed. No milk in sight.

And when the men with the golden colored cloaks came, he had no choice.

It was too late for you anyway. And at least, you wouldn’t know what was going on. You were tiny and helpless. They would make it quick, right?

So, your brother scurried off, your sister in his arm, while you stayed on the concrete, writhing and crying, all cold and alone.

Poor, little you.

And even more so, because it was the Kingslayer himself who found you. They all had the same specific order.

Kill them all.

No matter the age, the size, the gender or how tiny and helpless they were.

He was supposed to kill you.

But when he picked your tiny form up, amethyst eyes full of tears and your little fists swinging through the air, he felt himself smile a sad smile.

A stubborn one. So fierce.

And in the end, he couldn’t do it. He knew, obviously, it might cost him his head. But no matter what or who he was, he wasn’t that.

He was not the right man to butcher a babe. And so he didn’t.

Sooner than later, you found yourself in the arms of the new king. Whatever it was that you possessed – maybe the fire in your big eyes? The innocence? – it gave him pause. To everyone’s great surprise, the new named king didn’t kill you.

If only he did. It would have spared you such heartbreak.

The next few years, you grew up in the Red Keep. Of course you were no one’s child. Expect for your hair color and the amethyst glint in your eyes, there was nothing Targaryen about you.

Aside from your stupid pride and your stubbornness.

You spent your days reading and watching the knights fight in the training yard. Your best chance for some company was your governess, but even that was an old woman, devoid of any emotion.

You were no one’s child.

And you name was given.

The king came from time to time to see how things were going. How you settled in in a world in which you didn’t belong. His children and his gruesome wife eyed you with disdain.

No, that was not true. The eldest one did, and the mother for sure.

The girl was curious and the boy was rather frightened. You loved to make a habit of scaring him. He was like a lost pup and for some reason you found it rather delightful how big his eyes got, whenever you attempted to lunge at him and stopped the last second.

The witch, how you liked to call her, would scold you and threaten you with all kinds of vile crimes, until her tiny, little brother came by and stopped her.

You hated her. You hated everyone.

And what you hated most was how no one spoke to you.

You were no one’s child and you were no one’s responsibility. In court, you saw children with their mothers. They picked them up and cradled them close, when they were weeping.

Weaklings, you thought. But it was not your heart that spoke there. It was your wounded pride and your loneliness.

Oh, how you wished to have a mother. A father. A sibling even. Someone to banter and to argue with, someone who wasn’t Joffrey. He was a twisted little rodent. Someone who cut open living rats, just to see their blood flow and the life leave their eyes as they hissed and cried. Someone who yanked on your hair and cried to his mother when you yanked at his.

Until the witch finally got her will. And you weren’t allowed near anyone. No one spoke to you, unless Tyrion came to fetch you some books. He pitied you, you could tell. How sad was that? Being pitied by the most pitied person in Westeros. Maybe that was the reason, you thought. He knew how it felt. But at least he was someone. You were no-one.

So you read. And you watched. Observed. Listened. But you never spoke.

Everyone was going about their own business, ignoring your existence as good as they could.

Sandor would glance at you with disdain whenever you threw a tantrum, and yet he’d be the one to pull you back, whenever you got into too much trouble.

There was that one time when you were in an especially bad mood. You felt there was no one the world who cared about you and what was far worse, you didn’t care about anyone either. What was there to live for in this godforsaken place?

You mustered up some courage, which wasn’t all too hard. You were a stubborn little wench.

Once the castle got surrounded by darkness, you snuck out of your chambers and blindly stepped your way through the halls. You knew the walls and every stone on the way, because all you did was observe. It wasn’t like you had other children around you to play with. All you had were your books and all the adults you had grown to despise. One more than the other and so on.

So that particular night, you were ready to leave this all behind, cornering the next hallway, when a firm voice stopped you. You froze instantly.

He was that one person you couldn’t quite decipher. You were almost sure, he had never spoken a single word to you. When you caught sight of him, he looked away immediately. It was like there was an invisible wall. And whenever you got too close to it, he pushed you back with all the fervor his constant ignorance and disdain could muster.

“Where do you think you are going?”

With the softest sigh, you turned back around. Your hair was a mess from all the tossing and turning and your eyes glassy by the way you hated life. This one, at least.

“I-“

“No, forget it. Follow me.”

You sighed again and with slow, hesitant steps followed the Kingslayer back to your chambers. He held the door open and ushered you inside. The guards nearby got the scolding of their life, but you? He didn’t regard with yet another glance. He disappeared back into the night and left you alone with your sadness.

You didn’t truly mind. You found, there was something unsettling about him. Of course you knew the rumors about him and his sister, the witch of Westeros. And if one paid close attention, you could see the lewd glanced they’d share from time to time.

It wasn’t that you cared about that per say. It was more that you couldn’t understand how anyone ever managed to love that heartless hag. Not even him. The knight who held no soul.

You were clever enough never to let anyone see your sadness outright. When it came to these people, the ones who fiercely ignored you, you had no feelings but anger and no traits but stubbornness.

It wasn’t until another night, few years later, when someone was kind to you. You couldn’t quite tell who it was, you just knew she was old, but her eyes were gentle. Much different from your governess’ or the dark lord who owned Casterly Rock and half of Westeros.

“Dear child. Forgive me the intrusion.”

You had eyed her suspiciously, half-expecting her to set your hair on fire by Cersei’s order. You had been no older than ten and three, when the old man approached your chambers.

“I used to work for your mother, you see.”

Now, that caught your interest.

“My mother? What do you know about my mother?”

The warmth in her smile had been enough to make you feel wistful and even more lonely.

“I know that she loved you very much. Which was also the reason, why she gave birth to you, despite all the high risks. She knew she would not make it, child. But she still had you.”

A low, sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach later, she added: “I have something of hers. And I think you should have it, instead.”

Her visit had been short-lived, but her presence stayed with you. It changed the entire course of your life and probably, the whole future of Westeros.

It was a mirror. A pretty one, indeed, but simply a mirror. It felt odd in your hand. No one ever gave you any presents, except for Tyrion and his countless books. But this, it was different. The weight of the mirror in your hand made you feel somewhat comforted. It was your mothers. Your mothers.

She had loved you.

Someone had loved you.

Even if no one did now, it gave you endless comfort to know, that there once been someone who did.

After holding onto the mirror tightly for what felt like an eternity, you finally set it down and choked back your own tears. Was this how life was supposed to make you feel?

The next thing you remembered varied in your mind. It had been too much and too overwhelming to remember it clearly. It was just too odd. Your mind couldn’t comprehend and so it made up new scenarios and details whenever you thought back to it.

In some versions of the memory, you heard his voice first.

In other versions, you saw the soft glow that gleamed around the handle first, slowly stretching out over the cold surface.

Whatever it was, it was.

And suddenly you weren’t alone anymore.

“Princess.”

A voice so soft-spoken that you hardly recognized it. No, you were sure you were making up things. Maybe the mirror was indeed a cruel jest Cersei pulled on you. Maybe it was tinged in something, some substance, that made you lose your mind.

“Princess.” You heard again. Soft and gentle, like a caress.

You had no idea what a caress felt like.

When you heard him a third time, you were suddenly certain. It was indeed real. You stiffened when you realized the sound came from the mirror.

There was a tight knot in your stomach, as well as your throat.

“What?” You murmured. “What is this-“

You sat up carefully and glanced down to where the mirror was set, only to realize it wasn’t your own reflection you were seeing.

With a soft shriek, you recoiled and scurried over the bed, nearly falling to the ground. This wasn’t a trick, but you wished it was.

He had long, straight hair that looked like it was made of silk, in the same color your own hair was tinged. His expression was soft, but there was something so off about him. His one eye was amethyst-colored like your own were, but the other one, you couldn’t tell. It was covered by a black eye-patch, his lips pressed into a straight line.

He was a pretty sight, indeed. Beautiful even. More handsome than any man, any knight you had ever seen.

But why was he there? Why was he at all?

“I can hear your breathing, princess.” God, his voice felt like a thousand little stabs, caused by the gentleness of a cloud. “Fear not. I wish to see you. ‘tis me, princess. I am your blood.”

After what felt like forever you slowly crawled back over the bed, but not yet enough to face him fully.

“What are you?” You heard yourself whisper in a voice that was your hardly your own.

What then happened was even more strange. His lips curved into a smile and it lit up his entire face. The dark, gloomy prince, who missed an eye, suddenly became something kind and gentle. It made you swallow.

“Not what, princess. Who. ‘tis me, your blood.” He repeated. “You may have heard of me. Aemond. Aemond Targaryen.”

That made you pause. And suddenly you felt nauseous.

Aemond Targaryen? The prince? The same prince who had died so long ago?

“What? You cannot be. Aemond Targaryen died and I am talking to a mirror, for the Gods’ sake! You can tell Cersei-“

“I am not sent by Cersei, princess.”

“Then who sent you?!” Your disbelief slowly turned into anger. Whatever trick this was, it felt cruel to you. You had no one after all. And to make fun of your parentage like this? It was simply cruel.

“No one sent me.” He sighed in a way that made you feel calmer than before, but also tired. “Let me see you, princess. I promise you, I will bring no harm your way.”

You fought and argued with yourself in your head. The clever thing would have been to discard the mirror and inform…Who would you even inform? No one spoke to you and no one would believe you. You would end up the mad girl. So, with a soft sigh of your own, you picked up the mirror, but you held it as far away from your body as you could. And then you faced him, very carefully.

He observed your reaction and his lip twitched in amusement.

“Look at that. The princess is fearless.”

You frowned at that. “I am no princess.”

His good eye shot open. “They poisoned your mind.” He murmured.

Your frown deepened. “Who?”

“The bad people.” He hummed softly. Everything about him was so…calm. “The lions.”

After a beat, he quietly asked: “Do you even know who you are?”

You had a rough idea about it, but you weren’t entirely sure. You knew your parentage held some kind of importance to some people, but that was in the past. You were left to fend for yourself, in a pit filled with lions, but no dragons in sight.

“I…”

He tsked softly.

“My darling, darling girl. It is about time your fire returned. And I will make sure it does.”

[antinousletmehit]

More shitty brother antinous but make him shittier.

——

Y/n decided she’d make a sport out of embarrassing her brother. Every chance she got, she embarrassed him in front of the suitors—mocking his speeches, rolling her eyes when he acted like he ruled the palace, even stealing his cup of wine just to down it before he could. She wasn’t stupid. She knew the suitors found it hilarious. Even Eurymachus, who usually sided with Antinous, laughed when she got under his skin.

But this time, she had pushed too far.

It started with a harmless joke—calling him the most graceful man in Ithaca after he nearly tripped over a chair. The suitors had erupted in laughter, egging her on. Then she mimicked his posture, his pompous way of speaking, throwing in an exaggerated, “Oh, how I suffer under the weight of my own greatness!” The laughter had been deafening. Even Penelope , sulking in the corner, had cracked a smirk.

But when she looked at Antinous, his expression was deadly. The next thing she knew, he had grabbed her by the arm—hard. The room went quiet as he yanked her out of the hall, dragging her through the corridors. “Antinous—” she hissed, trying to pull away.

He said nothing.

Her stomach twisted. Oh, shit. He shoved open her bedroom door and threw her inside. She barely caught herself before falling onto the bed, scrambling up to glare at him. “What the hell is your—”

“Shut up.”

The door slammed behind him.

She stilled.

Antinous stood there, breathing heavily, his eyes dark with rage. “Do you think this is a game, y/m?” His voice was eerily calm, which was somehow worse than him yelling.

She swallowed. “I was just joking—”

“Joking?” He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “No, you were making a fool of me.”

She crossed her arms, trying to look unfazed. “It’s not my fault you’re easy to mess with.”

His jaw clenched. In two quick strides, he was in front of her, gripping her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “You think you can humiliate me in front of the suitors? In front of Penelope?” His fingers tightened. “You think there won’t be consequences?”

She glared at him, despite the painful grip. “What are you gonna do? Hit me?” She scoffed. “Go ahead, see if I care.”

Antinous didn’t hit her.

Instead, he leaned in close and whispered, “Maybe I’ll just get rid of you.”

Her blood ran cold.

His lips curled into a smirk at her silence. “You think you’re untouchable because you’re my sister?” He let go of her chin and took a step back. “There are plenty of men in Ithaca who’d love a young bride. Older, wealthier men. Men who wouldn’t care how much of a little brat you are, so long as you do as you’re told.”

She felt her stomach lurch. “You wouldn’t.”

His expression was unreadable.

The room was silent. For the first time, Pandora had nothing to say. Antinous lingered for a moment, as if waiting for her to argue, to push back. But she didn’t. With a scoff, he turned and walked toward the door. “Stay in your room,” he said coldly. “Unless you’d rather start looking for a husband.” The door slammed shut behind him.

She sat frozen on the bed, her hands clenched into fists. For the first time, the game wasn’t fun anymore.

——

She didn’t believe it at first.

When Antinous grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her through the halls, she thought he was just being dramatic. That he was trying to scare her. That this was just another one of his cruel lessons in obedience. But then they stepped into the great hall, and she saw him. A man, one of the suitors, one of the older ones, broad shouldered and grinning, waiting for them. The feeling of dread sank in like a stone in her stomach. “No,” she whispered, planting her feet. “No, you’re not serious.”

Antinous yanked her forward without a word. She turned to him, panic rising in her chest. “Antinous, no—”

“I warned you, didn’t I?” His voice was calm, but there was no humor in it. “You don’t listen. You humiliate me. You act like a brat. I told you what would happen.”

She felt like she couldn’t breathe. The suitor stepped forward, looking her over. “She’s a bit feisty,” he said, amused. “But I can break that.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

No. No, no, no, no—

“I—I can be good,” she stammered, turning back to Antinous, grabbing at his tunic. “Please, Antinous. Don’t do this. I’ll stop, I swear, I won’t embarrass you, I won’t—”

“Too late,” he said coolly, prying her fingers off him.

Tears welled up in her eyes. She looked at the suitor again, his smug, expectant expression, and she felt it, felt what this meant. That she was going to be his. That she would have no choice. That she would have to do whatever he wanted. That she would belong to him.

That she would bear his children.

Her entire body trembled.

Antinous turned to the suitor. “She’s all yours.”

She broke.

She dropped to her knees, sobbing, clutching at Antinous’ arm like a child. “Please! I’ll do anything, just—just don’t make me do this, please, please—” She was gasping, shaking, her fingers clawing at his tunic, pressing her forehead against his side as she sobbed. She didn’t care how pathetic she looked. She would beg if she had to.

Antinous was quiet for a long moment. Then—

He laughed.

The suitor snickered.

Her breath hitched.

She slowly looked up at Antinous, confused and disoriented. He was grinning down at her, shaking his head. “You really believed it, didn’t you?” he mused.

Her stomach twisted.

He crouched down, smirking. “Gods, you should’ve seen your face.” He reached out and flicked her forehead. “Did you really think I’d sell you off that easily?”

The suitor let out a chuckle. “She’s got spirit. That was fun to watch.”

Her body felt cold. Her lips trembled, her breath still shuddering. Then she sobbed harder. She wailed, clutching at Antinous’ tunic again, burying her face into it. Antinous groaned. “Oh, come on—” She didn’t care. She was crying so hard her entire body shook, her nails digging into his sides, holding onto him like he’d disappear if she let go.

Antinous just sighed, running a hand down his face. “Gods, you’re dramatic.” But there was no real bite to his words. Antinous tried to pry her off him, but she refused to let go.

“I hate you,” she hiccupped into his chest, still clinging to him.

Antinous smirked. “Good.” He ruffled her hair, chuckling. “Maybe now you’ll behave.”

She only sobbed harder. Antinous waved lazily to the suitor, who was still chuckling at the spectacle. “Yeah, yeah, that’s enough entertainment for the night. I gotta get this one back to her room before she drowns me in her tears.”

The suitor smirked. “You sure you don’t wanna go through with it? She’d make a fine little wife.”

She let out a pitiful, muffled wail into Antinous’ chest, her hands still gripping his tunic like a lifeline. Antinous just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, real tempting. But I think I’d rather not deal with her haunting me from the afterlife when she inevitably throws herself off a cliff.”

With that, he bent down, scooped her up like a misbehaving child, and slung her over his arms with ease. She sniffled into his chest, her tiny fists still gripping at him, her whole body shaking from the lingering terror. Antinous grinned, looking down at her blotchy, teary face. “Awww, look at you,” he cooed mockingly. “All sad and pathetic. You poor little thing.”

She whimpered into his tunic. He swayed her a little in his grip, just to mess with her. “You really thought I’d marry you off?” he teased, smirking. “You really thought I’d let some greasy old suitor take you away? What, you think I don’t like having you around?”

She just let out another wet, hiccuping sob. Antinous smirked, shifting her weight in his arms as he carried her down the hall. “Gods, you’re a mess.” He glanced down at her, raising a brow. “You gonna cry yourself to sleep, or should I get you a warm cup of milk too?”

She let out a tiny, muffled grumble, her words completely lost in his chest. Antinous chuckled. “Thought so.”bHe adjusted his grip on her, carrying her effortlessly as she whimpered into him, still trembling slightly.

“Alright, brat,” he murmured, voice softer now. “Let’s get you to bed before you pass out in my arms.” And with that, he carried her off, still smirking to himself while she clung to him, utterly defeated.

——

Antinous laid her down on her bed, carefully untangling her grip from his tunic. Her face was still blotchy, eyes puffy from crying, and she hiccupped as he adjusted the blanket over her. “There,” he said, brushing off his hands. “Now stay put and stop being a little brat.”

He turned to leave, but before he could take a step, a small hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. Antinous blinked, then looked down. Pandora was staring at him, her lip wobbling, fresh tears brimming in her already red eyes. Then, in a small, broken voice, she whispered, “Don’t go.”

Antinous sighed, running a hand down his face. “Oh, for the love of the gods—” She tugged harder, her grip trembling. His smirk faltered. Antinous exhaled sharply through his nose, then sat back down at the edge of her bed, rubbing his temples.

“You are such an idiot,” he muttered. She sniffled, rubbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her tunic. Antinous tilted his head, giving her a dry look. “You really thought I was just gonna sell you off that quick?”

She nodded, bottom lip still trembling. He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re even dumber than I thought.” She whimpered, curling in on herself. Antinous sighed again, this time softer. Then, after a beat, he reached out and ruffled her hair, gently this time. “Look, brat,” he murmured, his tone losing its usual edge. “Even if I do sell you off one day, it won’t be that easy. I’d make sure he was rich first.”

She whined at that, swatting at his arm weakly. Antinous chuckled, shaking his head. Then, in a quieter voice, he added, “I’m not getting rid of you that quick, alright?” She sniffled again, finally loosening her grip on his wrist. Antinous rolled his eyes, lying back on the bed beside her with a huff. “Gods, you’re exhausting.”

She curled into his side without hesitation.

Antinous sighed, glancing down at her. “Go to sleep, idiot.” And for once, she actually listened.

——

Telemachus hadn’t seen y/n in days. And while that usually meant peace for him, something about the silence felt… wrong.

So, begrudgingly, he decided to ask someone. Unfortunately, the only person he could find was Eurymachus, lounging around with a goblet of wine, looking as relaxed as ever.

“Hey,” Telemachus started, arms crossed. “Where’s y/n?”

Eurymachus barely looked up. “Hell if I know. I’m not her older brother.”

Telemachus scowled. “You practically are.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather die than claim that title.” Eurymachus took a sip of his wine, then smirked. “For all I know, she’s gone and married by now.”

Telemachus froze.

Eurymachus just swirled his goblet. “Poor girl, probably off with some old man by now. You know how Antinous is.” That was all it took for Telemachus to spiral into sheer panic.

Married?! Was that why she had been gone? Had Antinous finally had enough of her antics and actually gotten rid of her? Was she out there, forced to be some old suitor’s wife, with a husband and—oh gods, children?! Without another word, Telemachus turned on his heel and started pacing up and down the palace halls, his stomach twisting.

Was she happy? No, of course not—it was y/n, she wouldn’t want to be married!

What if he never saw her again?! What if she actually liked her husband?! What if she had—

Before he could finish that thought, he turned a corner and slammed into someone. He stumbled back, startled. Then he looked up.

It was y/n.

Not in a wedding dress. Not crying. Not married.

Just y/n.

She blinked up at him, confused. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Telemachus opened his mouth, then closed it.

Then, still staring at her, he just collapsed against the nearest pillar in relief.

She raised a brow. “Are you sick or something?”

Telemachus groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I hate Eurymachus.”

——

@simpformoonkight blame them for this sad fic

[28harryssunflower]

Could u make one based off of ‘only angel’ or/and ‘Kiwi’ ? 🫶🏻

Okay so, it would’ve been a lot easier to write if I had specific lyrics to pick from instead of just two songs in general, so I don‘t really like how it turned out, lol. And I also didn’t know what era you wanted me to write in, so I just chose the good old 2017-ish era. Anyways, I hope you still like it xx

Third post today! Phew

Dangerous attraction

The dim lighting of the private booth cast long shadows, the soft clink of glass and quiet murmurs of people in the background melding into the low hum of the pub. Harry sat back against the plush leather seat, his eyes half-lidded as he absentmindedly swirled the whiskey in his glass. The concert had been a success, the crowds in New York had been wild, but after the adrenaline of the stage, this was what he needed: quiet, solitude, and a bit of time to relax before another long day.

But then he saw you.

At first, it was just a glimpse - a flash of your figure across the room, seated in a booth surrounded by a group of people who seemed to melt away the moment his gaze fell on you. You were the kind of woman who demanded attention without even trying. Such an actress.

You took a drag from your cigarette, the ember glowing in the dim light, your lips parted just enough to pull in the smoke. Harry’s heart skipped a beat, his eyes fixed on the way your fingers held the cigarette so casually, the smoke swirling around you like a mysterious cloud. You looked like trouble - dangerous trouble - and it made his pulse quicken.

The moment you finished your cigarette, you tossed it into the ashtray, not even glancing at the half-finished glass of whiskey in front of you as you immediately reached for another from your cheap pack. You didn’t seem to care about anything - anyone - except your own pleasure.

But it was the next move that really grabbed Harry’s attention. He watched, stunned, as you poured a line of white powder onto the back of your hand. His eyes followed the movement, unable to tear away from the way your fingers expertly drew it in through your nose. There was something about it that made him feel both intrigued and uneasy, like you were a dangerous game he didn’t know if he should play. But god, he wanted to.

His eyes traced the curve of your neck, the way the neckline of your black dress dipped low enough to make his pulse race. That black dress, clinging to your figure so perfectly, seemed designed to drive him mad. Every curve, every movement you made was like an invitation. His chest tightened as he imagined what it would feel like to press his lips to that neck of yours, to taste the soft skin that looked so damn kissable.

“Get a grip,” Harry muttered to himself, shaking his head. But it didn’t work. His gaze was still locked on you, still captivated. His thoughts swirled with confusion and desire.

He needed to make a move.

He called for the waiter, his voice steady despite the frantic beating of his heart. “Bring her over here.”

Moments later, you appeared, slipping into the booth beside him without a word, the faintest smirk curling on your lips as your eyes met his. Harry had no idea what he was doing, but there was no way he was going to let you slip away. You were too much - a perfect mix of fire and ice.

“You’re Harry Styles,” you said, voice low and smooth, a little amused, as if you weren’t entirely impressed but still intrigued.

“That’s me,” he replied, his voice rough, more playful than usual. “And you are?”

“Me? I’m captivated,” you grinned.

You didn’t need to introduce yourself. Your name wasn’t what mattered here. It was the way you looked at him, the way you leaned in just enough that your perfume, sweet and intoxicating, hit him with the force of a punch.

Harry shifted, leaning closer, his eyes scanning your face. He couldn’t resist the pull. It was like a magnetic force drawing him to you.

Your lips were on his before he had the chance to think twice. He felt your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, the kiss hungry, urgent. He groaned into your mouth as you practically devoured him. There was no gentleness here, no tentative exploration. You kissed him like you owned him, like you were claiming him, and Harry couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d never been kissed like this - never had anyone just take him the way you were.

You pressed your body against his, and Harry felt his control slipping away. Your hands were everywhere - on his chest, his neck, his jaw. Your body was like liquid fire, and Harry found himself losing track of everything except the feel of you. The kiss was filthy, passionate, and full of something far darker than he was used to.

When you pulled back just enough to break the kiss, your lips glistened with the same whiskey he had been drinking, your breath a sweet mixture of smoke and alcohol. “You know,” you whispered, “I didn’t think you’d be this easy.”

Harry didn’t even flinch at the comment. In fact, the challenge in your eyes only made him want you more. “Who says I’m easy?”

You smiled, and for a moment, Harry thought he might lose his mind. You were the definition of chaos, of everything he shouldn’t want. But God, he did.

Before he could gather his thoughts, your lips were back on his, and this time it wasn’t just a kiss. You were all over him - your hands sliding down his chest, pulling at his shirt, making him forget where he ended and you began.

Normal people would pay for this kind of woman to be sitting on their lap, making them feel like you made him feel right now.

His brain was foggy, his heart thumping in his chest. You didn’t stop. You didn’t even let him breathe. It was reckless. It was wild. And in that moment, Harry couldn’t care less about the consequences.

It felt like you were both on the edge of something dangerous, something electric. His hands roamed down your body, his fingers itching to explore, but you took control again. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “You like this, don’t you? You like the way I’m all over you.”

Fuck. It was a punch to the gut, and Harry had never felt so alive. He wanted you - needed you. It was the most primal urge he’d ever felt, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, you grinned and scribbled your number on a napkin. “Text me,” you said, your voice taunting. Before he could even respond, you stood, giving him one last lingering look over your shoulder, a slow wink before you vanished back into the crowd.

Harry sat there, his chest heaving as he stared at the napkin in his hand. He wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened, but he knew one thing for certain: you had left a mark on him, something deeper than just a casual fling. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, and that frustrated the hell out of him.

It took him several more drinks to shake the frustration, but it didn’t do much to ease the gnawing feeling in his gut. By the time he got back to his hotel, the taste of you was still fresh on his lips, your scent still lingering in his mind. He had texted you twenty minutes after you left, but there hasn’t been an answer yet.

Then, his phone buzzed.

It was you. Of course, it was you.

Your text came in with that usual warning:

You: I’m bad news. Your fans won’t like it if they knew I was influencing you this way ;)

Harry chuckled, leaning back on the bed as he read your words. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

Harry: I’m obsessed with you

The words spilling out before he could stop them.

Harry: I don’t care about anything else. I want to see you again.

You didn’t hesitate.

You: Tell me your room number and hotel name. Then meet me in the hotel hallway. I’ll be there soon.

And soon enough, you were. Harry stood in the hallway outside his room, a grin plastered across his face, heart pounding in his chest as the elevator doors opened and you stepped into the hall. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you.

There was no talking this time. No hesitation. You pressed him up against the door of his hotel room, hands sliding under his shirt, lips crashing against his. The heat between you was suffocating, and Harry didn’t fight it. He couldn’t.

This time, you were the one in control. You pushed him down onto the bed, straddling him as your lips devoured him once more. Your hands, your body, everything about you was completely in charge, and Harry loved it.

He was lost in the sensation of you taking the lead, of the way you teased him - your lips brushing his, your hands tugging at his clothes as though you couldn’t get enough of him. And when you finally got on top, taking the reins in a way that surprised him, he couldn’t help but surrender.

He couldn’t believe this was happening, but it was. It was everything he didn’t know he needed.

Afterwards, when his lips brushed against your ear one last time, he whispered, “You’re a real devil in between the sheets.”

You chuckled darkly, your eyes glittering with amusement. “You have no idea.”

You stood, pulling on your clothes with that same nonchalant attitude, as if you hadn’t just completely shattered him. Harry watched you, breathless, trying to catch his breath. But before he could speak, you leaned over him and kissed him deeply, just once.

And then you were gone - no more words, just a wink as you slipped out of the room.

Harry sat there, staring at the ceiling, his mind reeling. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he knew one thing: You were trouble.

And yet he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

I remember accidentally introducing my best friend to Fire Emblem when 3H came out because I was super excited about it and it was all I talked about for months after it released. He’d never played FE before and he’d said he’d hit a wall and couldn’t progress, so I went to walk him through it and this dude. had managed to get to the second gronder field fight WITHOUT EVER REPLACING HIS WEAPONS. Almost all were broken. He’s undoubtedly the smartest person I know, and has absolutely schooled me in any competitive game and carries in anything co-op. To this day I don’t know if I should admire or fear him for managing to get that far without checking the inventory menus once because he thought they were clunky and dumb.

-🎞️

this is why devs always assume players are dumb as hell.

[lilmarshie]

yandere gi-hun? after everything he’s been through, that man is definitely not letting you leave his motel 😂

Yandere! Seong Gi-hun x Reader HC’s

A/N- Thank you for the ask, anon! I had a ton of fun writing this and I hope that you enjoy. Please don’t hesitate to send me more headcanon asks or any other suggestions my way! I love writing for the Squid Game characters.

- Gi-hun first noticed you during a moment of vulnerability as you were helping someone in need in the city that you lived in

- Unbeknownst to you, he had been watching you for days now, and was trying to find the best way to get to know you better

- Gi-hun was drawn to your kindness and felt a need to protect you

- When you first meet Gi-hun he’s kind and sweet

- But as time goes on, and you get to know him better, you find out that he’s been tracking you and is always asking you where you’re going or who you’re going to be with

- He is smitten with you and wants to make you his and his alone

- You continue to meet up with him and get to know him better which eventually leads to him asking you out on a date

- The date goes smoothly but Gi-hun makes some off handed comments about being in games and winning copious amounts of money

- You shook it off at him just joking around and told him you would meet up with him again later that week for a second date

- After about two or three dates he asks you if you would want to be his partner which you happily accepted due to his seemingly kind and generous nature

- But that all changed in the blink of an eye and you couldn’t escape Gi-hun now

- Gi-hun would isolate you from friends and family

- He convinced you that they didn’t understand you like he does and it made you hate your family and friends

- Gi-hun had a close eye on you at all times making sure your location was tracked to ensure your “safety”

- In his eyes it was best for you to be under a close watch

- Gi-hun used manipulation to make you stay home at the motel and under his control

- He wouldn’t let you leave the motel unless he was with you again for your “safety”

- Gi-hun’s acts of devotion such as cooking you meals or bringing you flowers are ways to make you feel indebted to him

- He was increasingly jealous with the ways that others treated you and forbid you from speaking to other people without his consent

- Gi-hun breaks down to you confessing his deepest fears and insecurities stating that he’s scared to lose you, his beloved, his one and only

- He confronts you about harmless interactions, accusing you of not valuing his love

[livingformintyoongi]

The Hunger Games | Kim Taehyung

a/n: Yes, this is not as well produced as the rest of my work because it's a stupid project I'm doing based on this publication I made, because if I'm going to push people to show their never finished projects, then I'm also going to participate showing this fragment I wrote a LONG time ago :))

Warnings: THG!AU, a little angsty, Reader is rather clumsy and soft (yes, I like characters that are shown to be weak, condemn me), and just that, it's short 🙂

"Are you still awake?" Taehyung whispered over your hair, both arms wrapped protectively around your waist. You were almost sure he hadn’t taken his hands off you since he set foot on the arena.

"Yeah, it's hard to sleep knowing that at any moment someone could jump on us to attack," you murmured, snuggling even closer to his chest, clinging to the false hope that this way, you might find some peace.

"No one would dare approach us. Our allies are some of the strongest—we have Chaewoon and Yoongi, two of the most ruthless winners. Then there’s Sooah, Jiwon, and Jungkook, some of the strongest fighters. And, of course, we have Namjoon. He won the games purely with his intelligence. We have nothing to worry about—"

"Taehyung," you interrupted before he could continue, turning to face him. It was still nighttime, and neither of you was willing to light a fire, so the only illumination was the moonlight. Your delicate features stood out even more under the blueish glow, and Taehyung couldn’t help but think how beautiful you looked, even in a situation as hopeless as the Hunger Games.

"We may have the strongest and smartest players, but everyone in this arena has won a game before. And let’s not forget the fact that they all did it by their own merit..." You paused for a moment before continuing, a small pang in your chest making it hard to say what had been weighing on your mind ever since they announced you would be fighting in the Games again. "Everyone except me."

"Honey—"

"No, Taehyung, don’t try to make it seem like I did something incredible, like my victory was as legendary as everyone else’s," you kept your gaze lowered, unable to meet his eyes as you let out all the fears you had kept bottled up until now. "The only reason I won the Games was because I got lucky. We both know it—everyone knows it! That’s the only reason people even remember me out there. ‘How did she dodge that arrow?’ ‘What were the odds that a beehive would fall right onto that player?’ ‘How did she find food that another tribute couldn't get to because of the distance and difficulty?’"

Your grip on Taehyung’s suit tightened slightly, your forehead pressed against his chest as if it could shield you from his gaze.

"I never killed anyone, not a single person. My weapon is completely clean. If someone were to attack us right now, I wouldn’t be able to defend myself. I never passed any trials, not even the agility test..." You licked your lips before continuing, the lump in your throat tightening now that you were finally voicing your deepest fear. "I’m a burden to all of you, Taehyung," you whispered against his chest, feeling how his arms tensed around your waist. "If another team comes after us, you’d be too busy keeping me alive to worry about yourself, and the same goes for the others. I’m a liability, and everyone knows it. There’s no way I can be of any help. I can’t even swim. I can barely run properly without tripping halfway through. And it’s too dangerous for you to keep carrying me on your back all the time."

"What are you trying to say, Y/N?" Taehyung murmured, his grip on you tightening even more. He couldn't even tell where he ended and where you began. "Because if you’re telling me all this just to say we should split from the group, then—"

"You don’t have to come with me," you shook your head, pressing your face against his chest, needing to feel him as close as possible, to the point where you could hear his heartbeat growing louder. "I don’t want you to. I want you to live, Tae. I want to stop being a burden to you."

"You are not a fucking burden, Y/N. You are my fiancée," he growled softly, resting his face in the crook of your neck. You were fully aware of how much this conversation angered him—you had been from the moment the thought first crossed your mind. But it was the best thing, for everyone, for him, and he had to understand that somehow.

"I can’t just leave you behind and go as if you don’t matter to me, because you are the best thing that has ever happened in my life. I don’t want to do it, and I won’t. You want to leave the group? Fine, do it. But I’m going with you," he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours desperately. He needed you to understand how he felt, that he would never, ever leave you alone, no matter what.

"I’ve respected every single one of your decisions, no matter how ridiculous they seemed to others. But with this? With this, you don’t get a choice, baby. I’m going wherever you go. Always."

"It’s dangerous for you to be with me."

"It’s dangerous for you to be alone."

"I don’t want you to die because of me."

"And do you think I do? You said it yourself—you’re clumsy, you don’t know how to handle a weapon properly without hurting yourself. If I leave you here alone… just thinking about it, I—"

He pursed his lips, studying your face intently. He lifted a hand to your cheek, caressing it as if your skin were made of the most delicate and precious material in existence. And to him, you were.

A fragile body, a heart too soft, too easily broken. To him, you were the most beautiful woman in the world—if not the entire universe. You were the love of his life, someone he never thought he would get to meet. But there you were, lying beside him, looking only at him, wearing a ring that, in a few months, would bind you together for life.

"I love you too much to risk your life for nothing, Y/N."

He rested his forehead against yours, noses brushing, lips just inches apart, breathing the same air.

"Don’t do this to us, please, I beg you," he whispered against your lips, running his hands through your golden strands before resting them on your nape. His dark eyes locked onto yours, a quiet smile forming inside him as he saw your pupils dilate, as he felt your much smaller hands clutching his clothes like your life depended on it.

You could say you wanted to go your separate ways, but your body told an entirely different story.

"Stay with us," he murmured, his lips barely touching yours as he spoke. "Stay with me."

Before you could respond, Taehyung closed the distance, his fingers tangling in your hair, his arms pulling you closer until every inch of your body was pressed against his.

You had kissed before, many times—sometimes briefly, other times with deeper emotion. But this? This was different from any kiss you had shared before.

It felt like a last one.

More desperate than any other, yet filled with uncertainty and a silent plea neither of you dared to voice. The hand he had kept on your cheek now tried to wipe away the tears that had started falling—tears he was sure you had been holding back for days.

The kiss didn’t last more than a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Hours neither of you wanted to end.

When you pulled away for air, Taehyung followed, seeking more, needing more. He didn’t want to let you go. He didn’t want to lose you.

"I’m scared, Tae," you whispered between soft sobs, looking at him with so much desperation and fear that he felt his heart clench.

His eyes locked onto yours with determination, trying to appear as confident as possible, to make his words feel like undeniable truth.

"I’ll get you out of this alive, baby. I’ll get both of us out. I promise."

[777bae]

JUST THE WAY YOU ARE WILL SMITH

Summary :: You finally open up to Will about an insecurity you’ve possessed throughout your life, yet he helps you realise you are more than just what you deem as imperfections. (REQUESTED :: prompt 30)

Warnings :: insecurities (height), kissing (maybe slightly suggestive?)

Word count :: 3.3k

Will had always known if something was off.

It was never anything obvious. You didn’t withdraw completely, didn’t start fights or shut him out entirely. It was subtler than that—like the whisper of a change in the wind before a storm rolls in.

You still laughed at his jokes, even the bad ones. You still sent him good morning texts, always with an unnecessary amount of emojis that made him shake his head and grin at his phone. You still reached for his hand without thinking when you walked together, your fingers slipping into his like it was second nature.

But something was different.

There was a hesitation now, a tension in you that hadn’t been there before. It clung to you in ways that were almost imperceptible—almost. But Will noticed. He always noticed when it came to you.

At first, he told himself he was imagining it. Maybe he was overthinking things—he had a tendency to do that when it came to you. He cared about you too much to ignore even the smallest shifts. But the more he paid attention, the more the signs piled up, and soon, there was no denying it.

You weren’t just tired. You weren’t just distracted. Something was wrong.

It was in the way you pulled away from his hugs just a second too soon, leaving him standing there with his arms still half outstretched. Before, you used to sink into him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist, head tucked against his chest like you could stay there forever. Now, you hugged him the way you might hug an acquaintance—polite, brief, like you were forcing yourself to go through the motions.

It was in the way your smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes. You still laughed when he teased you, still grinned when he kissed your cheek unexpectedly, but there was something missing. Before, you had always smiled with your whole face, the kind of smile that lit you up from the inside out. But lately, it was different. Forced. Like a mask.

And the way you avoided certain mirrors—that was what made something in his chest tighten the most.

The first time he noticed, it had been in your apartment. You were getting ready, standing in front of your full-length mirror in the bedroom. He had been sitting on the bed, watching you with a lazy smile as you fixed your hair. But then, something shifted. Your shoulders stiffened, and he watched as your gaze flicked over your reflection, a shadow passing over your body. You turned away from the mirror quickly, looking down at your hands like you couldn’t bear to see yourself.

It happened again when the two of you were out shopping. You had stopped in front of a store window, looking at something inside. Will had been talking about an upcoming game, but then he saw the way your expression changed when you caught sight of your reflection in the glass. Your whole body tensed, your jaw tightening, your hands balling into fists. And just like before, you looked away.

Will had been through enough in life to know what insecurity looked like.

He had seen it in teammates going through a slump, in rookies who doubted whether they belonged in the league. He had seen it in himself, in the moments before a big game, when the pressure felt like too much.

And now, he was seeing it in you.

That realization made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

Because the thing was—he knew you. He knew the kind of person you were, how strong you could be, how fiercely you loved the people around you. He knew the way you could light up a room with just a look, how you could make him feel like the luckiest guy in the world just by smiling in his direction.

So whatever was going on in your head—whatever was making you feel like this—it wasn’t fair.

And it definitely wasn’t true.

He tried asking about it. He tried again and again.

And every time, you brushed him off.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Just tired.”

Your words were short, clipped, dismissive. Every time, you shut the conversation down before it could even begin, changing the subject or turning away like you were hoping he’d just drop it.

But Will knew you.

And he knew when you were lying.

He let it go at first, not wanting to push too hard. He figured maybe you’d come to him when you were ready. But the weeks passed, and nothing changed. The weight in your shoulders only seemed to grow heavier. The distance between you, the invisible wall you had built, only got thicker.

And Will couldn’t stand it.

He tried everything.

He took you to your favorite restaurant, making sure to get the table in the corner where it was quieter, more intimate. He ordered the meal he knew you loved, reached across the table to hold your hand, let his thumb trace slow circles against your skin. You smiled, laughed at his stories, but it was still there—that thing you were carrying, the thing you wouldn’t share with him.

He took you on a long drive one night, the kind you used to love. The music played softly in the background as the two of you drove aimlessly through the city. Will reached for your hand across the console, intertwining your fingers, waiting for you to say something—anything. But you just sat there, your thumb absently stroking his, staring out the window like your mind was somewhere else entirely.

The worst part was that you were right there next to him, but you felt miles away.

And that scared him more than anything.

So, he got desperate.

He even tried to make you jealous once—something he never did. It was stupid, really. He casually mentioned how a girl at the arena had complimented his game after a win, watching you carefully to see your reaction. Normally, you would roll your eyes, call him an idiot, maybe even throw in a teasing “should I be worried?” just to mess with him.

But this time, you barely reacted at all.

Just gave him a halfhearted smile and said, “That’s nice.”

That’s when Will realized this wasn’t just a bad week.

Something was really wrong.

And he wasn’t going to stop until he found out what it was.

That’s what led to this moment: the two of you sitting in his car, parked in front of your apartment, neither of you making a move to leave.

The engine had been off for nearly twenty minutes, but the silence between you was thick, heavy in a way that made Will’s chest feel tight. The car was warm, filled with the faint scent of your perfume mixed with the leather interior, but there was a distance between you that had nothing to do with physical space.

Will tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, his movements slow, deliberate. He could feel his patience thinning, not because he was frustrated with you, but because he hated this—hated seeing you retreat into yourself, hated knowing something was weighing on you and not being able to help. He’d given you time, given you space, but enough was enough.

He exhaled sharply, then turned to face you fully.

“Okay,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “I’ve been trying to be patient. I’ve been giving you space. But I can’t do it anymore, baby.”

You blinked at him, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been off for weeks,” he said, searching your face for a reaction. “And don’t try to tell me you’re fine, because I know you’re not.”

You sighed, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Your body language was closed off, defensive—arms crossed, your gaze darting toward the window as if you were looking for an escape route.

“Will, I—”

“No.” He cut you off gently, reaching for your hand before you could pull away completely. His grip was warm, steady, grounding, his thumb brushing slow circles over your skin. “I love you. And when you love someone, you don’t just let them sit there and hurt alone.”

He squeezed your hand, his gaze soft but insistent. “So please talk to me about it.”

You swallowed hard, staring down at your lap, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. There was a war happening inside your head—he could see it. The push and pull between wanting to keep this locked away and the part of you that was dying to let it out.

When you finally spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper.

“It’s stupid.”

Will felt something sharp twist in his chest.

“Nothing that bothers you is stupid,” he said immediately. His voice was quieter now, coaxing, as if he could ease whatever weight you were carrying with his words alone. “And nothing about you is embarrassing to me.”

You exhaled slowly, but you still didn’t say anything.

The silence stretched between you, thick with something unspoken. Will refused to let go of your hand.

You shifted in your seat, your fingers tightening slightly in his grasp before loosening again, like you were second-guessing yourself. Then, you turned to look out the window, your voice carefully measured when you spoke again.

“It’s really not a big deal,” you tried, your tone light, forced. “I shouldn’t even be thinking about it.”

Will clenched his jaw, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly.

But you are thinking about it.

And it was clearly something that had been eating at you for weeks.

He studied you carefully, noting the way your shoulders were drawn tight, the way your fingers twisted in your lap like you were trying to physically hold the words inside. It was almost like you were afraid to say them out loud, like that would make them real.

“But you are thinking about it,” he countered, his voice steady but firm. “And it’s been messing with you for weeks. So, yeah, I’d say that makes it a big deal.”

Your jaw tensed slightly, like you were fighting back something you didn’t want to admit.

Will watched you, his heart squeezing at how small you looked despite the fact that he knew you weren’t. He hated seeing you like this—folding into yourself, retreating, acting like whatever was in your head wasn’t worth talking about.

It was worth talking about.

You were worth talking about.

“Baby,” he murmured, his voice softer now, more coaxing. He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your knuckles. “Please talk to me about it.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, and for a second—just a second—he thought you were going to say something.

But then, you hesitated again.

Will sighed, tilting his head slightly as he studied you.

“Okay,” he said, leaning back in his seat, his voice casual but unwavering. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide with surprise. “What?”

“I said you don’t have to tell me,” he repeated, crossing his arms over his chest and sinking deeper into his seat. “But I am gonna sit here all night until you do.”

Your lips parted slightly, like you were about to argue, but no words came out.

Will just stared at you, his expression completely calm, completely serious.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he added. “I got nowhere to be.”

You groaned, throwing your head back against the headrest, exasperation laced in your voice. “You’re so annoying.”

Will smirked, tilting his head as if considering. “Yeah, but you love me.”

You huffed, still staring at the ceiling of the car like you were trying to will yourself into disappearing.

He could see the way your fingers fidgeted in your lap, the way you were biting the inside of your cheek like you were trying to stop yourself from talking.

Still, Will didn’t say anything else. He just waited.

And, eventually, the silence became too much for you.

And finally—finally—you exhaled.

The weight of weeks of silence, of hesitation, of keeping this locked away, slipped through your fingers like sand. It wasn’t easy. In fact, it felt impossible to say it out loud, but the way Will was looking at you—patient, steady, unwavering—made something in your chest crack wide open.

“It’s my height,” you admitted, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

Will blinked. He hadn’t known what to expect, but he hadn’t been expecting that.

“Your height?”

You nodded quickly, like saying it any louder would make it worse. Your arms crossed over your chest, like you were trying to fold into yourself, make yourself smaller—as if you could shrink away from the admission entirely. But you couldn’t, because the words were already out there, hanging between you like something fragile, something breakable.

Will watched you carefully, his expression unreadable.

You inhaled sharply, your voice tight as you continued, “I—I don’t know. I just feel weird about it. Like, I know five-ten isn’t huge or anything, but it’s tall for a girl, and I’ve always been self-conscious about it.”

Will stayed silent, his full attention on you, his expression open, patient. He wasn’t going to interrupt. He wasn’t going to tell you it was silly or brush it off. He was just listening.

And for some reason, that made it easier to keep going.

You let out a breathy laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Growing up, I felt like I was always towering over other girls. Like in every school picture, I was the one standing in the back, trying not to look so awkward next to the girls who were cute and petite and got to be at the front. And then in high school…” You hesitated, your throat tightening slightly. “All the guys were obsessed with these tiny, dainty girls, and I felt like a giant next to them.”

Will’s jaw tightened slightly at that, something sharp flashing in his eyes. He didn’t like picturing you feeling that way. He didn’t like knowing that you had spent years seeing yourself as anything less than stunning.

But he stayed quiet, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly, grounding you.

You inhaled shakily, your fingers still twisting in your lap as you continued. “I just—sometimes I feel like I take up too much space.” You let out another dry laugh, shaking your head. “Like I should be… smaller, or something.”

The words sat heavy in the air, and for a long moment, there was only silence.

And then, Will exhaled slowly. He ran a hand down his face before turning back to you, his eyes dark and unreadable, his jaw tight.

“You—” He stopped, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His voice was lower when he spoke again, rougher. “You really think that?”

You hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Yeah.”

A long silence stretched between you. Will just stared at you, like he was trying to figure out how to process what you had just said.

Then, under his breath, he muttered, “Jesus.”

Your chest tightened. You weren’t sure what he was thinking, but before you could panic, he turned fully toward you, his eyes burning with something intense.

“Baby,” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less firm. “I need you to understand something.”

Your fingers twisted anxiously in your lap, but you finally met his gaze.

“I love your height,” he said, his tone unwavering. “I love everything about it. And not just because you look hot as hell standing next to me.”

You let out a startled laugh, and Will smiled, but his expression didn’t waver.

“I love the way you carry yourself. I love the way your legs go on forever when you wear those little dresses that drive me insane. I love that when I kiss you, I don’t have to bend down so far that my back starts hurting.”

He smirked, and you rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding.

“I love that when I wrap my arms around you, you fit against me perfectly.” His voice dropped lower, rougher, sending a shiver down your spine. “And if I’m being completely honest?” He leaned in, his lips just barely brushing your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “I love that when I pick you up, I can actually feel you in my arms.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Will pulled back just enough to look you in the eye again, his gaze burning.

“I love all of you,” he said, his fingers tilting your chin up slightly, his touch gentle but insistent. “And I hate that you’ve ever felt like you needed to be smaller to be enough.”

Your chest ached at his words, something warm and overwhelming settling deep in your ribs.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

Because what were you supposed to say to that?

So instead, you kissed him.

It wasn’t a decision. It wasn’t something you thought about, something you planned. It was instinct, raw and desperate, the only way you could think to respond to the overwhelming tenderness in his voice, the fierce sincerity in his eyes.

You surged forward, reaching for him, your fingers curling into the soft material of his jacket like you needed something to hold onto. Your lips met his in a way that was almost urgent, almost frantic—like you were trying to absorb every word he had just said, trying to believe it in the only way you knew how.

And Will responded instantly.

His hands were on you in a heartbeat, warm and steady, one cupping your face while the other slid into your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as he pulled you closer. It wasn’t enough—not nearly enough—so he angled himself toward you, shifting in his seat despite the awkward space between you, despite the damn console separating you, as if he would have pulled you into his lap if he could.

The kiss was slow but deep, filled with everything you couldn’t say, everything he wanted you to understand. You could feel it in the way his thumb brushed over your cheek, in the way his grip on your hair tightened ever so slightly, in the way his lips moved against yours—deliberate, consuming, like he was determined to make you feel exactly how much he adored you.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, your breath catching as his hand left your face to settle on your waist, his touch firm and grounding, as if he was trying to anchor you there. And maybe, in a way, he was. Maybe he knew that you needed something solid, something certain, something that told you that this—the way he felt about you—was real.

By the time you finally pulled back, you were breathless. Dizzy. Completely unraveled.

Will didn’t let go.

His forehead rested against yours, his breaths uneven but warm, fanning softly against your lips. His hands stayed where they were, cradling your face like you were something delicate, something he never wanted to let slip away.

His voice, when he spoke, was barely above a whisper.

“You believe me?”

It was soft but certain. Not demanding, not pleading—just wanting to know, needing to know.

You hesitated for only a second.

And then, finally, you nodded.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice slightly unsteady, still catching up to your emotions. “I believe you.”

Will let out a slow breath, like he’d been waiting for those words, like they were the only thing he’d wanted to hear. A slow, easy grin tugged at his lips, something warm, something completely adoring.

He kissed you again—softer this time, slower, like he had all the time in the world to make sure you never forgot how he felt about you. Then he shifted, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest, holding you there, completely enveloping you in his warmth.

And you melted into him.

There was no hesitation this time. No insecurity, no lingering doubt. Just him—solid, steady, yours.

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel too big.

You felt right.

You felt loved.

Just the way you were.

[alaia777]

i so squealed when i saw ur recent post could i request can we trade? yours is way better! with rin tysmmm i love ur work

oh my goddddd thank you so so so much, i hope you like it :’) i also love ur work !!!!!

if you knew he was going to frown and grumble the entire walk to the café, you would’ve just left him at home. but no—he couldn’t listen. you warned him. you threatened him. if he so much as touched a football on his day off, you were going to invite his brother over to your guys’ place. and yet, here he was, dragging his feet like a kid forced to run errands, acting like this was some huge punishment.

the least he could do was suck it up and come with you, especially after you sat through 90 minutes of a match between two teams you couldn’t even be bothered to remember.

“if you want to spend quality time together, then you should sit down and do something i enjoy for once.” that’s what he said at the time. and thinking back on it now, you try not to cringe. he wasn’t just watching the game—he was in it, barking orders at the screen like a wannabe captain. or coach. either way, he gave you the ick that day.

“my friend told me this place is amazing. they make the best crepes in the world,” you say, glancing at him.

he stops for a second, frowning even harder—if that was even possible.

“crepes? you made me skip lunch because you were taking me out to eat, and we’re getting crepes?”

you ignored him and picked up the pace as soon as the café came into view. luckily, it wasn’t too crowded—you wanted to sit down and actually enjoy the atmosphere. you didn’t bother waiting for him, heading straight to the counter to order. and, okay, maybe you went a little overboard with the toppings. whipped cream, chocolate, and peanut butter sounded like a great combo in theory. but now, staring at your plate, you weren’t so sure. especially when you saw his. simple, golden, and so much more appetizing than the sugary mess in front of you.

you cut into yours and take a bite—or at least, you try to. the way all the toppings mix together on your fork makes your stomach turn. rin doesn’t even have to look up to know you’re staring at his. you’re not exactly subtle, practically slouching over the table to get your plates closer together. he can already hear you—

“can we trade? yours is way better!” you blurt out, already reaching with your fork.

but he’s faster, dragging his plate away before you can even think about stealing a bite.

“no. yours looks disgusting. what were you even thinking when you ordered that?”

you huff, glaring at him. “i was hungry, okay? not all of us spend hours strategizing our meals like we’re in a champions league final.”

you sigh and settle back into your chair, feeling a little guilty. how selfish of you to want to take his plate after you starved him of his lunch just because you couldn’t think straight in front of so many amazing toppings and flavors. you glance up briefly to see him getting out of his chair, probably to use the restroom, and you don’t bother looking away from your plate. maybe if you just open it up and eat it from the inside… or maybe you could fold it differently? you squint at it, trying to find a way to make this work.

you don’t even know how much time has passed since you started trying to figure out how to eat your damn crepes. all you know is that you’re completely lost in your thoughts when suddenly, your plate is replaced with another one. one with a single topping on it—your favorite one! you look up, and rin is already sitting back down, casually eating his own crepes.

“rinnnn,” you say in a whiny, happy voice, leaning toward him with a wide grin, “you actually love me so much, like, you can’t live without me, right? and you want to marry me right now, right?”

rin doesn’t even look up from his food, his tone deadpan as he answers.

“yeah, sure. after you finish that thing you call a crepe.”