#hands obsessed secret couple

[lovemesomechenford]

Take this in… the highest viewed reel on the rookie’s entire Instagram page is one they posted 3 days ago. And it’s almost TWICE the amount of their second most viewed reel.

[liesonthefloordramatically]

Obligatory roundup of tabletop characters I played this year:

Vyv (they/them), a cleric of The Twins in yumgeon (a homebrew Dungeon Meshi-inspired campaign)

Amber (she/her), The Old Soul in a game of Wickedness

Endurance Perez (she/her), a Teamster pilot in Mothership

Not pictured:

Poggs "The Slammer" Mulroney (they/them) in Doing the Job

(Links to icon makers: one, two, and three.)

[velarisdusk]

Velvet Whispers, Midnight Truths

Azriel x Reader

part 2 -> word count: 5.3k content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, az doesn't pull out lol, casual sex, hurt/comfort kinda?, jealousy, friends to lovers, language ] summary: Frustrated by Azriel's apparent indifference towards you, you seek solace in the arms of others. But words exchanged over a family dinner ignite a long-suppressed jealousy. A heated exchange, an unforeseen confrontation, and a passionate encounter follow. author's note: i received this ask a couple of weeks ago and omg i had so much fun writing this, i love drama ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

You liked to think you could handle a lot; political disputes, bloodshed, mountains of paperwork. But this? No, this was simply too much. You were in hysterics when Nesta found you — or rather when Nesta was rounding a corner and you bumped into her with enough force to make even Cassian stumble back.

“(Y/n), do you sincerely believe that that,” she’d gestured between you and the general direction you’d run from, “was ever going to work?” Her words were like a knife to the gut, her tone like grabbing it by the hilt and twisting. How she’d known what you’d seen was beyond you. But it wasn’t lost on her, or anyone else except Azriel apparently; the longing stares out the window down to the training ring, always sitting next to or across from him at the table, the way your scent would change when he’d pop into and out of a room — a dead giveaway of where your mind went when he was around.

So to see him like that — with her… It was a sight that seared itself into your memory. Their lips were locked in a passionate kiss, her fingers threaded through his dark hair. His hands roamed her body with unbridled desire, tracing the curves of her sides, waist, and hips, cupping her breast, and cradling her neck. To say it stung would’ve been the understatement of the millennia.

“It’s just… how he is,” her tone softened when she noticed your wince. “He was obsessed with Morrigan for five hundred years… five hundred, (y/n). I won’t be surprised if he’s set on Elain for five hundred more. What she plans to do, well,” Nesta raised her hands as if to say ‘not my problem.’ Her words were harsh, but you knew they held some truth.

“Maybe you just need to go to a pleasure house and fuck him out of your system,” she’d said plainly, smoothing down your hair as if she were discussing the weather. A pleasure house? They were illegal, but you weren’t naive, you knew they were out there. They were all underground; places you found through a friend of a cousin of a neighbor. Before you could dry your eyes, Nesta pulled a pen out of her pocket and scribbled an address onto your wrist. You didn’t want to know why she’d had it memorized. “Pretend it’s him, or the cute guy at the coffee shop, or whoever honestly. Hell, maybe even think of whoever it is you’re fucking,” she said with a smirk as she wrote. “Whatever you need to do to get over him, do it.”

You spent months in and out of taverns, walking in alone, walking out with a different male each time. It was fun… when they knew what they were doing. It was a wonder; males don’t know what they’re doing even if they have all the time in the world to figure it out. On the nights when there were enough of you for a family dinner at the River House, you didn’t miss how they all tried to scent you subtly, and eventually how Azriel’s shadows crept under the table all the way towards your feet, curling around your ankles as if trying to unravel your secrets. That was one of the many things that had stopped lately, sitting near him. The first night you took Mor’s usual seat, she’d given you a bemused look but said nothing of it. Meanwhile, the windowsill grew colder, both from the changing weather and your prolonged absence.

Your thoughts, however, were as persistent as ever. You didn’t think about him as often these days (Nesta’s advice worked pretty fast, you thought), but that was before he walked into Rhys’s office while you were discussing how to best quell the persistent tensions with Autumn.

It had been a quick in-and-out from him, typical as of late. Azriel strode in, his movements fluid and purposeful. He dropped some papers onto Rhys’s desk, leaning over your shoulder to do so. As he straightened, his right hand briefly rested on your other shoulder, the touch light but noticeable. He gave Rhys a nod and left. The warmth of his touch lingered long after he’d gone.

“We’ll have to speak to Eris again, soon,” he’d said with a barely-there note of urgency as he sifted through Azriel’s report.

“I can go,” you’d volunteered. “I’ve been meaning to go for some honey. Autumn Court honey-”

“-is the best, I know,” he finished with a soft smile. “Listen, I know I don’t need to warn you, but whatever conversation you may have with Eris, it’ll likely be heated. And tense. Things right now aren’t the best after-”

“I know,” it was your turn to say. “I can handle him, Rhysie, don’t you worry,” you teased, using that nickname you knew he’d roll his eyes at. “I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

The feeling of Azriel’s hand on your shoulder was a brand on your skin.

Not an hour after you’d met with Rhysand, you were standing in the entrance of the pleasure hall Nesta’d told you about all those weeks ago. The kind-looking female at the desk brought out a book of names so you could choose… your companion for the evening. You’d flipped through page after page, your nerves growing with each description you read. None of them were your type to begin with, but to pick and choose from a book felt wrong. You were about to point one out at random when the door opened, and who should walk in but the heir to the Autumn Court himself?

You’d somehow convinced him not to rush out, and to have a chat over coffee. He somehow convinced you that it was meant to be that he walked in right when you were about to make a mistake.

You’d somehow convinced each other it wouldn’t be an entirely terrible and irreversible mistake to get a room at the hotel across the street for a couple of hours.

Then again one night the next week.

And again three days after that.

That was how you found yourself underneath Eris Vanserra now. It was meaningless for both of you, purely physical, but you couldn’t deny the added thrill of finding someone so mutually attractive.

“Gods, you’re so fucking tight,” he groans from behind you, grabbing your hips and pulling you back onto his cock with a force unmatched by any of your tavern trysts. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, punctuated by your moans and heated whispers.

Rhysand would be waiting for you to get back. You were supposed to meet with Eris to discuss the logistics of a diplomatic meeting to address inter-court relations. And then there was the family dinner tonight. Almost everyone was home – only Amren was absent, her extended stays in the Summer Court becoming more frequent these days.

“Hurry up and finish, I’ve got places to be,” you tell him over your shoulder, looking his way just as he lands a firm smack on your ass.

“Better places than right here?” he asks. With a particularly hard thrust, you’re thrown off of your forearms with a yelp, face-first into the pillowy sheets.

“I didn’t say that-” You’re cut off by a moan that escapes you when he reaches around and toys with your nipple. “But I’ve got to get back and tell Rhysand that we-”

“Let’s not talk business, please,” he says, a hint of irritation in his voice. “The last thing I want to think about right now is leaving the lands of one tyrant to go back to the lands of another.” You turn your head indignantly at that, ready to defend your High Lord, when he shoves your face back into the mattress, abandoning any pretense of gentleness. Eris’s hands roamed your body, his touch igniting sparks along your skin. Your breath caught as he reached a particularly sensitive spot. You arched into him, pushing aside all thoughts of diplomatic meetings and family dinners.

This? This was simply too good.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

For the first time in months, Feyre called for a family dinner at the River House. It was a rare occurrence lately; as soon as someone returned, someone else had to leave. She and Cassian had returned from the Continent this morning, and Azriel and Nesta from Autumn hours ago.

Azriel’s gaze swept across the table, taking in the faces of his family. Rhys sat to his right at the head, one hand intertwined with Feyre’s, the other gently stroking Nyx’s hair as the toddler babbled happily in his high chair. Cassian’s booming voice filled the air, entertaining them with tales of his and Feyre’s adventure, and Mor leaned in, her golden hair catching the candlelight as she listened. Even Nesta, usually with her mask of indifference, couldn’t entirely hide the fond exasperation in her eyes as she watched her mate’s exaggerated retelling.

When his eyes fell on Elain, the tips of his ears reddened slightly. The memory of their encounter all those months ago flashed through his mind. The passion, the nervousness, the realization that followed. He’d handled it poorly. The guilt of touching her so intimately, only to find himself unmoved, still weighed on him. He quickly averted his gaze, hoping no one had noticed his momentary discomfort.

They’d been happily sitting at the table just shy of ten minutes when a realization struck him. The chair diagonal to his remained suspiciously empty. He cleared his throat, taking a sip of water to cover his sudden unease. “Where’s (y/n)?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral. “I thought we were all home tonight?”

“She’s probably with Jasper,” Cassian said offhandedly, sawing into his steak with perhaps more force than was necessary. Azriel’s grip on his fork tightened imperceptibly.

Feyre shook her head, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Jasper? No, that ended forever ago. Last I heard, she was seeing Ares.”

“Ares?” Nesta’s eyebrows shot up. “I could’ve sworn I saw her with Roan a couple of weeks ago.”

“Before Ares,” Feyre clarified, exchanging a knowing look with her sister.

Mor leaned in, unable to hide her curiosity. “Wait, wasn’t there a Soran at some point too?”

He tried to maintain his composure, but it grated on his nerves. His jaw clenched tighter with each name mentioned, his grip on his fork becoming white-knuckled. The metal bent under the pressure of his fingers, and his shadows whirled around him, betraying the storm of emotions the words had unleashed.

Elain’s soft voice cut through the chatter. “It’s been Eris a few times now.”

The table fell silent, all eyes snapping to Elain. She paused, her glass of wine halfway to her lips, suddenly aware of the weight of her words.

“Lucien mentioned something about it,” she murmured, before taking a rather large sip.

Something inside Azriel snapped. He slammed the bent fork onto the table with enough force to rattle the dishes, the sound cutting through the stunned silence. Without a word, he abruptly stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

Ignoring the concerned looks and half-formed questions from his family, he strode out of the dining room. His shadows darted around him, agitated and dark.

Outside, he took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying to calm the storm raging inside him. But he couldn’t; not until he knew where she was. His shadows slipped from him, spreading out into the night, searching for her. He clenched his jaw, the thought of them, of her with him, branded into his mind. With a low growl of frustration, Azriel let his shadows envelop him completely.

Azriel sat at the small, dimly lit cafe, the steam rising from the untouched cup of coffee in front of him. He didn’t need it, not really. The caffeine wouldn’t do anything to calm him, but it gave him something to do with his hands. He settled into a corner seat, his shadows swirling restlessly around his feet as he waited. He stared out the window, his eyes trained on the hotel’s entrance, but his mind was elsewhere. The fury simmered beneath his skin, an itch he couldn’t scratch, and it made him feel restless.

But why was he so mad?

They weren’t together. They’d never been together. She was free to do whatever she pleased, with whoever she pleased. He’d never allowed himself to think of her that way — she was beautiful, yes, but he had never looked at her and felt that familiar tug of desire that he’d experienced with others. She was more than that… It was different.

He scowled, leaning back in his chair as the thought sank in. If that was true, if he’d never seen her in that light, then why did the thought of her with Eris make his blood boil? What was it about seeing her with that arrogant piece of shit that had twisted something deep inside him?

His jaw tightened. Maybe it wasn’t just about Eris. Maybe it was about her.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

Azriel’s grip tightened around the coffee cup, the ceramic warm against his palm as he watched the entrance of the hotel from the cafe. It wasn’t long before he saw Eris stride out, pausing briefly to glance around as he adjusted the cuff of his sleeve. Azriel scoffed, imagining all the things he’d love to do to that self-satisfied prick. The idea of wiping that smug look off Eris’s face brought a twisted sense of satisfaction.

But then, his breath caught in his throat as you stepped out of the hotel, turning to walk in the opposite direction, towards the River House. Azriel’s jaw clenched. Were you planning on showing up and pretending nothing had happened?

He let out a slow, measured breath, willing the fury to simmer down as he pushed away from the table. Keeping a safe distance, he followed you through the darkened streets, his shadows drifting ahead to ensure your path was clear. He told himself it was just to make sure you got back safe. That was all.

But the anger, the confusion, the gnawing sense of something he couldn’t quite name — it lingered, gnawing at him with every step he took.

As you neared the house, Azriel’s pace slowed, his footsteps nearly silent as he watched you walk the final block. The moment you turned the corner, his form dissolved into shadows, and he winnowed back into the house, appearing in the dining room with a gust of displaced air.

“Az, where the hell did you–” Cassian started, but Azriel cut him off with a cold glare.

“Shut up and eat.”

“Az?” Feyre’s voice held a note of concern. “You–”

“I said sh–” he stopped himself when he looked up and realized who’d spoken. “Eat.” Azriel’s tone was softer but still left no room for argument as he dropped into his seat, his jaw clenched tight. The others exchanged uneasy glances, but after a brief, tense pause, the conversation resumed. It was quieter at first, voices subdued as they cautiously picked up where they’d left off, but soon enough, the normal rhythm returned.

Minutes later, the door creaked open, and you walked in, your presence instantly drawing the room’s attention. You hung up your coat, smoothing down your hair as you made your way to the table. But as you sat, the scent slammed into him, unmistakable — Eris. It was all over you, clinging to your skin, and your clothes, filling the room with the unmistakable evidence of your encounter.

Azriel’s fists clenched under the table, though his face remained neutral. To his left, Elain’s lips curved into a small, knowing smirk, her gaze flicking between you and Azriel. She had noticed the shift in him, the way his entire demeanor had changed the moment she casually mentioned who you’d been spending time with lately. And now, with the proof of it hanging in the air like a challenge, she could see through his cool facade, the turmoil beneath it. But Azriel said nothing, just stared down at his plate.

The table was silent as you ate, the tension thickening with every passing moment. Azriel’s gaze was fixed on you, his patience wearing thin. When it became clear that you had no intention of bringing up the unmistakable smell that lingered around you, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Why do you smell like Eris?” His voice cut through the silence with a directness that left no room for misinterpretation.

You looked up, eyes wide with surprise at the bluntness of his question. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for your response.

Azriel stayed deathly still, back straight against the seat. “You knew someone was going to ask. His stench is all over you — you reek of him. So why?”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression one of calm defiance. “I think you’re old enough to have had that conversation with someone else already.” Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Rhysand summoning a bottle of liquor from the cabinet.

A murmur rippled through the room. Elain’s eyes widened in delighted surprise, while Feyre’s face twitched, clearly uncomfortable. But a smirk played on Nesta’s lips, amused by the scene unfolding before her.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t look away from you. His jaw clenched, and the intensity in his gaze was unmistakable. “You know, most people would have the decency to keep their affairs private.”

Your lips curled into a sardonic smile. “And some people think it’s their job to play moral watchdog. How very… quaint.”

Mor, now holding the bottle of liquor and pouring, raised an eyebrow at the exchange but made no move to intervene, clearly interested in the outcome.

Azriel’s nostrils flared, his irritation evident. “Quaint? Is that what you call it when someone’s reckless behavior affects everyone around them?”

You leaned forward, your voice icy. “How is what I choose to do with my time affecting everyone else? And who’s being reckless here? I’m not the one who’s turned this dinner into a circus.”

Nesta’s smirk widened slightly, her eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. The room’s atmosphere grew thicker, tension palpable as both of you held your ground, eyes locked on each other.

“Can we take this somewhere else?” Azriel’s voice was edged with frustration. It was unlike him to let his composure slip.

You shook your head, a glint of challenge in your smile. “No, you’ve already brought it up. Go ahead.”

His voice dropped, carrying a hard edge. “I don’t think you should be with him.”

Your gaze hardened, your tone sharp. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m not ‘with’ him.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. “I don’t think you should be fucking him then!”

You met his challenge head-on. “And who are you to decide who I fuck?”

His frustration boiled over, his fists clenched at his sides. “I’m–” He started, but the words faltered on his lips. The reality of the situation hit him hard, and he realized he had no right to be this worked up. With a ragged breath, he abruptly stood from the table, circling it to your seat. Without another word, Azriel grabbed your arm with a firm grip and began to drag you towards the door. Your eyes widened in surprise, but you didn’t resist. The room’s atmosphere had shifted, the air charged with an electric tension. Azriel’s grip on your arm was firm but not harsh, leading you toward a quieter corner of the house.

He guided you into a dimly lit hallway, far from the prying eyes of your family. As soon as the hall door clicked shut behind you, the space seemed to close in. Azriel’s breath was uneven, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that spoke of more than just frustration.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “I just… I can’t stand the thought of you with him.”

You stepped closer, your voice equally low but steady. “And what does that matter to you? You’ve never been one to concern yourself with me.”

Azriel’s gaze softened. “That’s not true. I’ve always cared about you. And thinking about you with him… it drives me mad.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t seem like you were too concerned when you were feeling up Elain.”

Azriel’s expression shifted, guilt and frustration clouding his features. “That’s not fair. Things are complicated, you know that. It wasn’t about not caring for you.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Then what was it about? Because to me, it seemed like you were perfectly fine ignoring me.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but his voice was steady. “I never ignored you, (y/n),” he said, his touch firm yet gentle as he lifted your chin to meet his gaze. “I may have been spending more time with Elain, but I never ignored you. Her and I already spoke, forever ago, a few days after it happened, actually. It was a mistake. One I deeply regret.”

You shook your head, the hurt evident in your eyes. “Words are easy, Azriel. Actions–”

“–actions were a mess, I know.” He cut you off, stepping closer. “But I’m trying. I’ve been trying.”

You searched his face, conflicted emotions warring within you. “And yet, here we are, you feeling the need to interfere in my life.”

Azriel’s gaze held yours, earnest and intense. “Because I care about you, just as much as you care about me, if not more.” You had to suppress an eye roll at that. If only he knew. “Knowing you’re with him… I can’t help but feel it’s not right.”

A heavy silence fell between you, the unspoken words hanging in the air. Before you could break it, Azriel closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. It was raw, demanding, and full of the emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface all this time. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. The world outside seemed to fade away. In the quiet darkness of the hallway, your bodies pressed together, the tension from your confrontation fueling a different kind of intensity.

Azriel’s hands roamed over your body with a desperate need, as if he was trying to erase the anger and frustration from earlier, trying to replace the scent tinging your usual honey and lavender with night-chilled mist and cedar. He pushed you against the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of his touch. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as his kiss grew more insistent.

You gasped against his lips, your body responding to his touch with desire and need. Your hands traveled down to the hem of his winter sweater, fingers curling around the fabric as you tugged it upwards, needing to feel more of him, needing to touch the skin beneath. Azriel didn’t hesitate; he broke the kiss just long enough to yank it over his head, discarding it to the side before his mouth was on yours again, more demanding, more fervent.

You let your hands explore the expanse of his chest, feeling the lines of hard muscle, the cool touch of his skin a contrast to the searing heat between you. Every caress, every brush of his lips, was fueled by the unspoken tension that had been simmering inside of you for so long. Though the thought of this wasn’t on your radar an hour ago, it felt as though this moment had been inevitable, the collision of anger and passion combusting into something neither of you could resist.

Azriel’s hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he lifted the fabric, fingers trailing over your skin, up to your waist, his touch tender yet possessive. With a swift motion, he pulled your shirt over your head and then his lips were on your neck trailing heated kisses down to your collarbone.

“Is this what you wanted?” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy, every word laced with the same intensity that had sparked this fire between you. “Is this what you were trying to find with those miserable fucks?” He nipped at your shoulder, his teeth grazing the delicate skin before soothing it with a kiss.

You could only nod, words failing you as the need in your body overpowered everything else. You wanted this — wanted him — and there was no space for hesitation. Your hands gripped his shoulders tighter as he pressed you more firmly against the wall, his hips grinding against yours in a way that made you gasp again.

Azriel’s eyes met yours, dark and filled with a mixture of desire and something more — something deeper. For a brief moment, everything paused, the air thick with unspoken emotions that hung between you. Then, as if some unspoken agreement had been reached, his lips found yours again, and all the pent-up tension spilled over. He pressed his hands firmly against your hips, his grip possessive as he lifted you effortlessly from the floor. With a deliberate stride, he carried you towards the guest bedroom he was staying in, his lips meeting yours once again. His lips burned against yours as he carried you down the hall, his pace steady but urgent. The guest bedroom door swung open with a firm push, and he set you down gently on the edge of the bed. The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment.

He loomed over you, his hands still gripping your hips, his breaths deep as he took in the sight of you sprawled before him. His gaze roamed hungrily over your body, a smoldering look in his eyes that made your pulse quicken. His fingers traced the curve of your waist as he leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts. He reached beneath you, his fingers finding the clasp of your bra. You arched your back, offering him better access. With a skilled movement, he undid the clasp and slid the garment off your shoulders. His gaze lingered on your exposed skin, filled with an intense, appreciative heat.

His hands roamed eagerly, exploring every inch of your exposed skin. He paused momentarily to meet your eyes, the burning desire in his gaze mirrored your own. “Tell me what you want,” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me how to make you feel everything you need.”

You pulled him down for another searing kiss, your fingers threading through his hair as you whispered against his lips, “Just touch me, Azriel.”

His response was immediate. He moved with a practiced grace, undressing you with urgency. Azriel took a moment to appreciate the view, his gaze dark and intense with a mixture of hunger and reverence. He shifted position, his hands exploring the newly exposed expanse of your skin. His lips followed, trailing fiery kisses down your torso, savoring every inch of you. He took his time, lingering over the most sensitive spots, teasing and testing to see what made you shiver and gasp.

He knelt between your legs, his breath warm against your inner thighs as he leaned in to kiss the sensitive skin. His tongue flicked out, teasing and exploring with a skill that made you writhe beneath him. The sensation was overwhelming, each stroke and flick sending waves of pleasure through you. His hands were steady and reassuring as he guided you through the rising tide of your desire.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared desire — the soft rustle of sheets, the breathy gasps of pleasure, and the occasional low groan of satisfaction. Azriel’s touch was relentless and precise, each movement meant to drive you closer to the edge.

When he finally positioned himself above you, there was a moment of intense eye contact, his gaze fierce and protective, as if etching every detail of your expression into his mind.

As you reached for him, your fingers tracing the torso you’d pleasured yourself to the thought of countless times, Azriel gently took your hand in his. His voice was low and firm, filled with a mixture of resolve and tenderness. “Not tonight,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Tonight, I want to take care of you. We can worry about everything else another time.”

With that, he shifted his focus entirely to you, his hands and lips working in concert to bring you to the brink of pleasure. His body melded with yours, the sensation overwhelming, and you gasped at the sudden fullness, every inch of him filling you in a way that was electrifying and profoundly intimate. Azriel’s movements were rhythmic and purposeful, each thrust making your breath hitch.

“Azriel,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. “I’ve wanted you so badly.”

His gaze softened, his hands tightening their grip on your hips. “I’m here,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

You could feel the tension coiling tighter inside you, each thrust driving you further into a state of heightened arousal. Azriel’s movements were perfectly curated to push you closer and closer to the edge. His hands and lips explored your body with a dedication that made your pulse race, his touch alternating between gentle caresses and firm grips.

His lips traveled from your ear to your neck, his kisses lingering and teasing, each one sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you. You arched against him, your body instinctively seeking more, craving the deep connection he was giving you.

“You feel amazing,” Azriel murmured, his voice low and filled with awe. “Every part of you. I can’t get enough.”

You managed a breathless moan, your fingers gripping the sheets as you writhed beneath him. “Don’t stop,” you gasped. “Please, don’t stop.”

Azriel’s response was a low, rumbling growl of approval. His rhythm never faltered, he was relentless in his devotion, ensuring that every inch of you was covered in his touch, every gasp and shiver met with a responsive stroke. The pressure within you continued to build, the pleasure intensifying with every passing second. Azriel’s hands traced patterns on your skin, his fingers brushing against the most sensitive spots with a skill that made you tremble.

When you were on the verge of losing control, Azriel’s lips found yours once more, his kiss deep and passionate. His movements matched the fervor of the kiss, driving into you with a rhythm that left you gasping and clutching at him. You felt a wave of overwhelming pleasure wash over you. Azriel’s movements became more urgent, his breaths coming in ragged bursts as he drove you to the brink. You clung to him, your body arching and trembling as the climax hit with a powerful intensity.

He followed you into the release, his body shuddering with his own pleasure as he held you close, his grip firm and reassuring. The world seemed to dissolve around you, leaving only the shared warmth and satisfaction of your intimate connection.

Azriel looked down at you with a teasing grin. “You know, we might want to wash up.”

You laughed, catching his playful tone. “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t head back downstairs like this.”

He leaned closer, his grin widening as he scented the air near you. “No, they’ll be able to tell we’ve been at it. You’ve still got some Autumn on you and I’m going to be the one to scrub it off.”

[konigsblog]

retired Konig who pretends to be a virgin so the sweet maid he hired lets him fuck her, he tells her there's no chance of him having children since he is infertile (lie) so he gets to cum inside her again and again

Retired!König x Maid!Reader 🍼

CW: DUB-CON, BABY TRAPPING, PREGNANCY / MDNI 18+

Surely, there's no risk of pregnancy when König is infertile, right? You obliviously trust König, don't question or ask for any form of evidence for the pervert that sneaks his filthy, grubby hand up your skirt teasingly. I mean, why would you ask for evidence? You've been working for him over the course of a couple months, and you've really gotten to know and trust him, despite his grossness and depravity.

You don't blame him for not being able to keep his dirty, large hands off of your gorgeous body. He's lonely and anxious, that's all. He just needs a slick, warm cunt to fuck nicely. You don't mind easing down onto his meaty cock occasionally, especially for some extra cash.

Although, König is hiding a perverse and sickening secret from you. He's not infertile. In fact, the entire thing is a huge lie, just to excuse his sick behaviour and have access to all your tight holes, to hopefully baby trap his beloved maid that he obsesses over. König loves how loyal and trustworthy you are, how you're not afraid to let König slide his veiny, lengthy cock inside your drooling pussy, for some extra payment. You offer your body up generously, allowing the old, retired loner to have his way with your holes for hours until you're forced to stay overnight. If you knew you had a chance of being impregnated, you wouldn't have ever bothered....

It doesn't hit you at first. Your period is becoming irregular and hasn't arrived? No big deal, you couldn't be pregnant - there's no risk, after all. Unusual and strange cravings? It's probably just a symptom that your period is near. But, after two months, you begin to get anxious, your stomach swelling and König's gaze lasting a lot longer on your new curves and flesh. Doubt weighs on your shoulders and leaves you tense around König, hesitating whether to let him have you or not - whether to trust that bastard.

Don't blame him, little mouse! It's not his fault... König will wipe your tears and cup your face tenderly, yelling at you when you bring up getting an abortion. You must keep his baby, it's a decision you both willingly made, and his abhorrent lies mean nothing in this situation.

Clearly, it was fate. Now, you must allow it to happen, Liebling... :(

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐋𝐀𝐒 𝐕𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐒 ꕥ MAX VERSTAPPEN

summary. celebrating max’s 4th title was not in your plans.

warnings. piastri!reader, max is kinda obsessed with reader, public s3x (?), unprotected pinv, fingering, just straight up dirty.

gabri speaks! i’ve been thinking about mexico gp max and las vegas sealed the deal for me.

THERE’S A BRIEF moment of silence, of anticipation, and of complete confusion. The DJ had paused the setlist less than an hour in announcing there was a special guest appearance. Then as if on cue tonight’s race is plastered on the giant screen behind him and the words, “Max Verstappen,” echo throughout the nightclub. You resist the urge to roll your eyes knowing someone might be recording you, or your brother at least.

“I thought he was flying back?” You cover your mouth with your hand as you talk with your brother.

“I thought so too.” Your brother hums in your ear trying to hide his annoyed tone. Your brother got along with Max just fine but all he wanted was one night without F1 getting mentioned.

You on the other hand…

You’d only been in the paddock a handful of times but every race weekend you had managed to have the worst encounter with the dutch man. The first time had been incidentally, you faintly recall the energy drink splashing all over your new dress. You knew from the get go that it had been an accident but when Max didn’t as so much as a muster a quick sorry and instead went on his way you had no choice but to hate him.

“He’s such a dick.” You murmur to yourself unaware your brother catches your words.

“Be nice.” Oscar motions towards the countless people recording him.

“I’m gonna get another drink.” You sigh.

The music resumes and you find yourself into a crowd of dancing couples. Your short orange dress sticks to you as you walk towards the bar. It’d been a long night with your brother not getting the result he hoped for. The post race recap inside the garage had been brutal as well. You had watched as the championship slipped from Lando’s hands and Max claimed victory once again. It had been the worst two hours of your life to say the least. You’re way too frustrated to even notice the man approaching you. In a split second you’re covered in something that smelled similar to…

“Asshole.” You mumble.

“Mini Piastri?” He gasps dramatically. “Why are you here? I wouldn’t think you’d be celebrating after tonight.”

“Well, the world doesn’t revolve around you.” You scoff. “Does it Max?”

“I’d argue that it does actually. Considering your mood, you’d be happier if your little boyfriend had actually managed to have a good race.” He taunts you.

“Look, can you get out of my way? I have to go clean up the mess you made.” You point towards the huge spots of alcohol on your dress.

You don’t even wait for him to respond before pushing past him, brushing shoulders in the process, to head straight to the bathroom. You do your best to dodge those who already have had a bit too much to drink, unaware that the dutchman is right behind you. It’s not until you’re opening the door and notice it takes a minute too long to close that you turn around and spot him. His white dress shirt is already half unbuttoned while his hair is a mess. You stare at him incredulously as he leaned against the sink.

“Max, you can’t be in here.” You state bluntly.

“I don’t recall you telling Lando to piss off when he followed you into the bathroom in Austin.” He counters.

“How do- What?” You’re taken aback by his words. How did he know?

He ignores your question choosing to walk towards you instead. You’re now face to face with the man that had taken away your team’s championship. His eye bags are dark and you can tell it’s been a while since he’s gotten a good needed break. His tousled hair falls perfectly on his head and by the way his arms flex you can tell he’s been putting extra effort into them at the gym. All of a sudden you’re nervous to be under his glare.

“Does your brother know what you and Lando do in secret?” He questions.

“You should leave.” You try to sound confident but your faltering voice exposes you.

Max just smirks at your words knowing he was getting under your skin. He still recalls the first time he ran into you, when he spilled half a can of red bull on you. He doesn’t know why he didn’t apologize but when he saw the anger in your face he realized why. You had looked so beautiful that day with the short orange sundress that did nothing to hide your cleavage. He still remembers the disappointment he felt when he saw you and Lando walk out of the restroom all disheveled. So, when he beat Lando tonight he felt absolutely no remorse.

His lips ghost yours for what feels like an eternity. You’re frozen in place wondering how his lips would taste against yours. Maybe it was the alcohol or the way his arms flex around you but suddenly you needed to know what he felt like. His arm tentatively grazes yours as it sneaks down to your knees. A gasp finds itself leaving your lips as your legs spread open instinctively. He wants to make fun of you, of the way you melt under him so easily, but he knows better. He can’t risk ruining the moment. It’s when Max inches his fingers closer to your thighs that you suddenly realize what’s happening. In a matter of seconds you push him off you and head out the door.

You’re barely four steps out when Max yanks you back and you hit his built chest. This time he doesn’t hesitate and grabs your jaw pulling your face towards his. Your lips meet in a heated kiss as his arms find their way around your waist. This time you’re the one that moves his hands from your wait to your ass. The confidence was beginning to build up and soon enough you’re tugging on his hair as his tongue enters your mouth.

“Max…” You moan and somehow it becomes the indicator that you want this. That you want him.

He pushes you flat against the cold brick of the hallway, the dimmed lights helping hide your bodies from the crowd. You’re lucky he holds you up because your legs feel like jello and if he lets go you might lose your balance. His hands roam your waist, back, and neck before he moves your hair out of the way. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses around your neck as his hands work their way down to your legs. They slowly glide up until he’s playing with the hem of your short dress. You can already feel his growing erection press against your ass.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He groans against your ear.

You really want to tell him to fuck off but your body reacts differently. You’re shocked when instead of telling him to call it a night all you murmur is keep going. In a matter of seconds your dress is being pulled up towards your waist. You can’t help the whine that escapes your lips as he rubs your aching core through your panties.

“So wet already.” He groans. “For me or Lando?”

“Shut up.” You still find it in you to annoy him.

To your surprise he doesn’t hit you with another remark. Max had been an asshole to you long enough. Now, that you were in front of him practically falling apart he didn’t want to ruin the moment. There’s a brief moment of silence before his hand carefully moves your panties to the side exposing your core to the cool breeze. Your legs spread instinctively as his fingers tempt your folds. His fingers collect your slick as he explores you, the wet sound making him groan against you. Slowly, he brings one of his fingers to your hole entering it carefully.

“Fuck.” He moans against your ear as your cunt wraps tightly around his finger.

“Ma- Max. So close.” You’re barely able to say.

You let out a loud whine as he curls his finger inside of you leading to your climax. You come around his fingers as you coat them with your wetness. His fingers slowly move toward your mouth and you don’t hesitate as you take them into your mouth, tasting yourself. He almost comes undone as you lick his fingers seductively. Aggressively he grabs your jaw and kisses you. He groans as he tastes you.

You feel the tip of him first as he runs it up and down your folds teasing you. Your hands are weak against the wall as his tip approaches your aching hole. He enters you slowly, holding you tightly in the process. He stops halfway through not wanting to hurt you but when he hears your dirty moans he continues. Your nails dig tightly into his arms as he fills you up completely. He’s quite big and the new sensation has you spiraling trying your best to not fall against him. He takes advantage of your weakness and attacks your neck again making sure to leave love bites around your collarbone.

“Fuck, Max. You’re so big.” You whine without thinking.

You feel his dick twitch inside you at that. Your voice has him in a trance as he tries his best to not just start thrusting inside of you. It’s not until you start pushing your ass against him that he almost pulls out fully before thrusting back into you. His hands grip your ass tightly—surely leaving marks for tomorrow—as your cunt squeezes him. He’s never felt such a thrill, at least since Abu Dhabi, you were your own feeling. He couldn’t believe you had finally opened up to him in many ways you were way better than winning another trophy. Many curses escape your lips as he finds the perfect pace inside of you.

He manages to bend you over leading to the perfect position and somehow he’s even deeper inside of you. He grips your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he speeds up inside of you. His hand trails back to your cunt and slowly he starts playing with your folds. The feeling of his cock inside of you and fingers rubbing your folds is intense and you find a camisole feeling in your stomach approach you. You squeeze him tightly as his dick hits the right spot and you find yourself coming undone. You’ve never had an orgasm so intense in your life you don’t even notice how you coat his dick with your wetness.

Max isn’t far behind and speeds up at the feeling of your cunt squeezing him tightly. Your nails dig behind you at the overstimulation and stretch of his cock. Max hisses at the sensation finding it the tipping point. It’s not long before you feel his dick twitch inside of you and in a matter of seconds you feel him spill his seed inside of you. He grunts as he empties himself and as he pulls out. He pulls you up adjusting your dress in the process.

You bite your lip as he zips up his pants. The aftermath of your little rendezvous is different. Usually with others you don’t stay long enough to watch them dress themselves. But then you notice Max struggling with the buttons on his dress shirt and you find your hands on his chest again. You only button half of the shirt before stepping back. Neither of you say a word but the silence manages to speak for you both. You decide it’s time to go back but before you can take a step Max pulls you in for a final kiss before he leaves.

You’re barely able to walk back towards the VIP lounge and stumble multiple times in the process. You try your best to brush your hair down and fix your dress as you come closer to your brother’s booth. You sit down carefully unaware your brother is staring at you wide eyed and wondering why it took you almost an hour to get a drink. You shift awkwardly in your seat as Lily begins telling you both about her mixup at the airport. You turn around briefly as she goes into detail when you notice Max walking past your table. You keep your composure not wanting to expose your actions of the night but you should’ve known better. Oscar almost bursts out laughing at Max’s completely unbuttoned shirt.

“Lando’s gonna be pissed.” Your brother smirks.

“How do-” Did everyone know? “Oh, fuck off.”

The night progresses with your brother ordering countless bottles of Dom Pérignon. It’s almost five in the morning when Max takes the stage again with the DJ playing a remix of Super Max. As if on cue someone hands him a bottle of champagne and it doesn’t take long for him to start spraying it amongst those on the dance floor. You watch attentively as his chest shows the marks you left completely unaware of how your phone buzzes for the hundredth time that night.

9 missed calls from Lan

Lan: Tonight was shit.

Lan: Come over?

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐘 ꒱ 김선우

summary : little innocent, top student, you, suddenly gets partnered up with the one athlete everyone at your school is obsessed with, for a homework project that turns into much more

genre : mdni !! smut, fluff, some angsty thoughts (occasionally, for the plot) athlete!sunwoo x afab!reader, school!au, pwp (a little), inexperienced!reader, strangers to lovers tws : explicit sexual content, language, pet names, body worship, praise, dirty talk (but like nice), dom!sunwoo, slight orgasm denial, slight edging, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (reader), almost dumbification (reader goes non-verbal for most of it), slight overstimulation, spitting in mouth (once), oral (reader), biting (once) author notes : did i get carried tf away? maybe (yes) word count : 5k

the harsh ultra-violet rays warmed your skin, sending a gentle goosebump-ridden pattern over it. you looked out ahead, watching as the soccer team practiced hard—almost daily now (only taking a break on wednesdays). a breeze passed through the air, weaving its way all around your body, which was wearing the school’s uniform loosely. you sighed, looking up to the wave of lustrously-green trees against the clear-blue sky. 

your body was relaxed, leaning ever-so-slightly back against the bleacher behind you. your hand came up when a particularly bright ray shined through the dark leaves of late spring and you blocked it. then, just as you were about to let it fall back down, your attention caught on one particular member of the team, when a shout of victory wafted into your ears: kim sunwoo. 

he was the main character of your daydreams, racing heartbeats, and physical ache. you knew it was stupid to be caught in his grasp, like the rest of the school was. you knew you weren’t special in the way you’d look at him longingly—so desperate for any kind of appraisal from the athlete. 

however, unlike the rest of the female (and male) population, you were contemptuous with your delusion over him. even if it was an unrequited love, you were closer with yourself—and schooling—in its result. your parents definitely weren’t complaining with your top-student status and class president tasks.

it seemed like a win-win, but still, you sometimes caught yourself wishing for more in the loneliness of the night; when your mind was the best at focusing on things it shouldn’t. you’d imagine things you’d rather keep in the depths of your archives. secrets you were prepared to take to the grave: everyone loved sunwoo, but no one knew you did as well.

the prejudice was that you were too caught up in said studies to even look up, especially not in his direction. you had only a couple of friends, ones you truly trusted with your life, and even they had no clue about your feelings for the soccer player.

you watched his celebration, a fist pumped into the air and a bright smile that caused a blush to litter your cheeks. In moments like these, you were glad he really had no idea you existed when you weren't standing right in front of him. he high-fived the team members, walking over to the sidelines and throwing a small towel over his shoulder. 

it was honestly a little pathetic the way you couldn't peel your eyes from the way his muscles strained against the spandex of the shirt, or the way the sweat would roll down his perfectly sun-kissed skin. the softness of the genuine smile that pressed against his mouth and up into his eyes, the ones that flirted so effortlessly with his slow and cool mannerisms. 

genuinely, when he looked so good, it made it hard for you to not drift off into another fantasy where he’d walk up to you and sweep you off your feet like a prince in a fairytale—and, he always looked this good. 

you huffed out a breath, one you weren’t even sure if you were holding or not, and crossed your legs over one-another. you narrowed your eyes (in some weird attempt to zoom in), swearing you could see the man of your dreams—and reality—walking in your direction. 

He flashed a devilish smile, you weren’t convinced was meant for you, breaking from the teammates he’d been walking with. his eyes met yours, and for a moment you thought you were asleep—or dead. 

frankly, you think this scenario would suit a chuckle from the athlete who watched your eyes go wide as he further approached.

he took a long drink from the bottle in his hand, holding said eye contact as he lightly swallowed. you mimicked him with a dry throat, admiring how his adamsapple bobbed with each gulp. 

he straddled the bench, setting his things between his open thighs. “y/n?” he asked as he raked a hand through his sweaty hair. you couldn’t look away, like a must-watch thriller that you’d spent your hard earned money on. you could feel the way your heart rattled your ribcage, just aching to escape and feel his against it. 

an audible hum left your lips in reply. you could feel the heat that radiated your features and spread throughout your body. and, you knew, despite opposition, that he could see its pink shade.  

the one-sided tension was suffocating. you shifted uncomfortably—or maybe in some desperate attempt to ease the ache—and clasped your hands together. then, once again, he smiled at you. your heart didn’t know whether to shatter or melt in the presence, which you’ve only been able to see up close a couple of times. 

“your place or mine?” 

you wouldn’t have believed the way your eyes could grow three-sizes larger than they already had previously. 

“w-what?” you choked out. 

he chuckled at your flustered state. “ms. park posted the partners for the group-projects.” he stated matter-of-factly. “and, guess what class president?” you all but asked what; gulping loudly, tensing your legs together, as well as your fingers and lips. “we’re partnered.” 

you wanted to play it cool, but the excitement at the revelation was fast-approaching. you’d never had the opportunity to see him outside of school—and granted, it was still over school-work but, a win was still a win in your book. 

“o-oh!” you ragged out along with a shaky breath. “right, i was waiting until after practice to ask you about it.”

you lied.

you had no idea that the groups were announced. you just spent your free-time on this bench pretending to do work often enough that it seemed reliable.

his eyebrows rose, like he could see right through your antics. it was honestly a little intimidating; or maybe that’s not exactly the right word to describe the feeling hot-spotted in you.

he glanced back at the field momentarily, watching the rest of his teammates leave the outlined grass. “whatever you say, class president, but i knew exactly where to find you… except on wednesdays.” the undertone was something you couldn’t read, just out of your depth, but still plunged you further into curiosity. “we’ll go to my place then, and i’ll shower while you get started. how’s that sound? practice is done anyways.”

you wanted to protest his offer, but there was something intoxicating about seeing his room and smelling the cologne that lingered in the air. the shampoo and body wash that would waft out to you. you’d dreamt about it, and simply, you wanted to see if it was anything like the picture you painted in your head.

“i can just meet you later—you can shower in peace.” you started to pull the phone from the bag at your side, opening it, and holding it in his direction. “maybe, in like two hours?”

he took hold of the machinery. “what’s the fun in that? you could’ve joined me if you got too bored.”

you laughed painfully, shifting once again at the heat between your thighs. you wanted to accept the offer more than anything, however you know you shouldn’t.

but, what was the fun in that?

“a shame.” he chuckled lightly, holding the phone back out to you after inputting his number and texting himself the address. “i’ll see you then, y/n.”

it was the exact house number you were now staring at, eyes shifting between the text on your screen and the apartment door. it had been a little over two-hours, you having to hype yourself up before you left. and you had decided to relax by taking a bath as well, getting a little carried away with your imagination—which ultimately caused you to be late as well—but, you didn’t think delinquent-athlete, sunwoo, would care all too much.

“you could’ve knocked,” you hadn’t realized the door was now open, revealing the dimly lit (because the curtains were closed and it was approaching 6pm) living space. “or called.”

“s-sorry. i wasn’t sure if this was the right place.” you watched as he moved aside, creating just enough room for you to brush past him, giving you an oh-so desired smell of his cologne.

you cursed yourself for getting so worked up over the little things he’d do, but now you were finding it hard to believe that that wasn’t his intention. he kept you coming back for more, and you were always eager.

“do you want any water?” he asked, watching your frame stand awkwardly in his living room. “my rooms over there, i have a couple of things for you.”

you choked again. “f-for me?”

he laughed. “to use on the poster, y/n.” and he mumbled something after that you weren’t able to catch.

your head panned as he walked to the kitchen, ears listening to the light rattle of glass cups and running water. you plastered your hands to one another politely, scanning over the couple pictures sunwoo did have laying about; his apartment only had the necessities. the few pictures were ones of a younger girl, who you assumed to be his little sister—who he obviously loved enough to display. but you thought there must’ve been more to them, to him, and deep down you knew you’d like to find out one day; to comfort him in his time of need. to be his.

sunwoo came back, two glasses in his hands as he motioned for the closed door on your left. “you can open it, i’ve got nothing to hide from you.”

you don’t know why those words made you blush, maybe it’s because they’re from him, and anything from the athlete is enough to send you reeling.

your hand trembled as it reached to the knob. “oh, okay.” you said, trying to block it with your body. “i was thinking we could start with reading the book a little bit more, to familiarize ourselves with the data before making the final draft. that’s if you don’t mind?”

the door swung against its hinges, making the site of a dark, but minimalistic room meet your view. you took in the smell of cologne, but it didn’t seem to be overpowering like he had just sprayed it around carelessly. his bed was neatly made, black sheets and black pillows placed meticulously: as if a house keeper had been around to do it for him.

he placed the glasses against the wood of his nightstand, a charger and lamp being the only other decor on it.

he pressed the lamp and illuminated the room just a little more. “not confident, class president?”

“that’s not it,” you blurted out, his brows knit and arms crossed as he awaited your explanation. you could barely look in his direction, biting your tongue to not say: i just get flustered enough to forget around you.

“i, uh, it’s just that… nevermind. let’s begin!”

he huffed out another laugh, his actions too fast for you to process as his hands met your shoulders, pushing you to sit on his bed.

your eyes seemed to be in a perpetually widened state, but you found it telling that you put up no protest. the bag on your back made it into your lap, and you unzipped it, taking out multiple pens, markers and whatnot to make a decent poster. sunwoo had grabbed a paper, putting it on the floor and holding out his book for you to take. your hands brushed as you accepted it, and it sent a shiver up your spine.

you began to lay a couple of your class-taken notes onto his bedding, and sunwoo made his way around to the other side. he plopped down onto his stomach, making you bounce slightly.

“you know, class prez, people think you’re scary. you’re always studying, you barely look up, and when you do it’s to tell people off because they’re interrupting said studying.” you tried to read over the notes, but found it hard to ignore the harmonies within his voice. and that your leisure-clothes were getting too warm around your skin. “but they don’t know you, i guess. you’re smart but i bet you know how to have, at least, a little fun, don’t you? and, it’s no secret the school thinks your looks are top-tear. it’s just a shame you reject everyone that asks you out. it’s a waste of your time, i presume. anyways, that’s enough. let’s get started, shall we?”

“w-why?” you asked in such a hushed breath that sunwoo barely heard it. and if he lived with anyone else, or if a car or plane went by at the perfect time, he wouldn’t have. “why is that a shame?”

“because you are beautiful, y/n.”

fuck your clothes, your skin was getting too hot against you. your breath was labored, and now the words on the paper were congregating. you couldn’t focus with sunwoo next to you, and that’s exactly what you feared.

why’d you have to ask? curiosity did kill the cat.

the way you shifted didn’t go unnoticed by the athlete and he let out a chuckle that should just be his signature at this point.

he sat up now, burning his eyes into the side of your head. “what’s wrong, y/n?” he asked, but you refused to look away from the notes, even if you couldn’t get your mind to read them. “has no one ever called you that before?”

you bit your lip, thumbs ripping at the skin around the nail. truthfully, yes, one person has called you that, but it didn’t feel the same as when he did it. sunwoo made your heart beat out of your chest, breath leave your lungs so fast it made you lightheaded. he made you weak in the knees, like you were just jelly to begin with, melting in the sun.

you felt a soft hand reach across you, taking the farthest cheek within his palm and focusing your vision towards himself.

his skin felt like fire against you, but even this smallest touch made you crave more, made you need him in a more than innocent way. and, you were starting to believe his intentions were exactly the same as yours.

your eyes finally focused at the feeling on his hand sliding to rest against the side of your neck, as if he was caressing it, running his thumb over your windpipe gently.

you��d never seen sunwoo so close to your face, but you had imagined it, and it was nothing in comparison. he was beyond beautiful, a sight to see: tan skin untainted by pores and blemishes, soft features like his lips that contradicted, but complimented shaper ones such as his eyes and nose. he was the perfect harmony in your opinion, the perfect—

“god, y/n. i must be crazy.” he broke you from your admiration, breath hitting your lips. “would you treat me any different from the guys who have asked you out in the past?”

god, yes.

your stomach was beyond knots now, the whole damn zoo being let loose. your hands were gripping the sheets at the anticipation that seemed to be agonizing enough to kill you where you sat. in reality, sunwoo wasn’t even doing anything, but he had you at his fingertips, and you weren’t convinced you couldn’t pass out right now.

“fuck, maybe i am crazy…” his eyes flicked to your lips momentarily. “do you want this? i know i’d be interrupting your studying, class president.”

and you don’t know where your confidence came from, but the way you closed the gap was desperate. however, sunwoo put up no protest, and quickly gained control over the situation.

his other palm pulled you by your cheek to deepen the kiss. well, that was until he had enough of the angle you were sat at and gripped your thigh to fully get you onto his bed.

he was a good kisser, a great one in fact, and it made you crave his lips in other places to experience the full effect.

now he was pushing your body by your lower back, trying to get you as close to him a possible, and as if you could read minds, you threw your leg over him to straddle his lap.

he broke the kiss. “good girl.” he said before reconnecting with the skin on your neck, and smiling against it when he heard you whine quietly. you could feel him growing hard underneath you, and wondered if he’d take this all the way, wondered if he wanted you like that. “you do want this, don’t you?”

inside your head you couldn’t help thinking that maybe you weren’t desirable, maybe he was only doing this to prove a point: that the whole school was within his grasp. maybe it was to brag tomorrow, as locker room chatter before soccer practice, because why would sunwoo like you outside of your delusions?

his arms caged you against him, stoping all minor movements and actions. he looked into your eyes, and for a moment it’s like the world had ceased. the only thing you could hear was the thumping within your own chest and the echoes of your doubts.

“do you want me, sunwoo?”

he kissed your lips gently—almost lovingly—before stating. “more than anything right now.”

and you wanted to ask if it was only right now that he wanted you, but you couldn’t will that to leave your lips, as his eyes locked onto your own, mixing like watercolor.

you’d wanted him to want you for a long time, so you hoped it wasn’t only now that he felt the same.

“are you okay?”

your palms now laid against his cheeks, biting your bottom lip, half-nervously and half from feeling his hands curve where the seams of your thighs met the underside of your ass. you pulled him quickly back to you, breaking away only to mumble a quiet yes before being fully taken over by your lust.

he flipped you over quickly, and you found comfort between his soft pillows and blanket. he pushed your thighs apart, slotting himself in between to attach back on your already swollen lips.

his voice came out in a hushed tone, only for you. “class prez, has anyone had you like this? have they seen how perfect you look with messy hair and puffy lips? i bet you’d look so cute crying, wouldn’t you?” you whimpered at the words—the thought—you wanted him to think you were cute, attractive in any way, it was human nature after all; and everything about this was primal. “how far do you want me to go?”

your voice was once again barely audible over your own heartbeat. “whatever you want.”

“yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

you were beginning—ignoring all previous warnings—to feel overwhelmed, his tongue sending you into overdrive. you didn’t know what to do as you felt him ghost his lips on your collar bone, then down over your chest, eventually landing at your stomach. he pushed the fabric up, latching down onto your hip bone, which had you shifting to get any sort of friction on your core.

all his minuscule teasing was actually beginning to feel painful, but he got the hint. you knew he would.

sunwoo grabbed at the waistband on your pants, looking up to you for reassurance, but you just lifted your hips to make it easier for him. he chuckled, pulling both of the fabrics blocking you from him down.

you heard him mumble something along the lines of pretty as he placed open-mouth kisses against your inner thighs.

one thing about sunwoo is that he left you no room to feel self-conscious or embarrassed. he knew how to love you right, (you didn’t want to know why that was) and was determined to show you that.

you might not have believed this was something more than locker-room chatter, but now…

you moaned when he finally attached to your aching clit, sucking gently before alternating between kissing and licking at your slit. your hand covered your mouth out of embarrassment at the sounds that you couldn’t stop from making. truthfully, the last (and only) guy you were with didn’t even make you finish, so you didn’t have to worry about being too loud—or god forbid, annoying.

but, sunwoo hated that you weren’t letting him hear how good he was doing. he wanted the praise just at much as you did, nonetheless he let you continue. he’d let you until you were completely at his mercy, malleable under his touch. he’d let you because that made you comfortable.

and, to be honest, it still fueled his ego.

“c-close,” you managed to mumble through your fingers, eyes squeezed shut and head lulled back. “woo, please?”

and that fact that you had asked him almost made him cum untouched. so, you were his? he thought to himself, before he groaned into your pussy at the feeling of your fingers attaching to his hair, only adding to your pleasure.

the hands squeezing your plush thighs pulled you closer to his face, close enough to suffocate, but he’d die a happy man.

he continued to eat you out like a starved man, only bedrudgingly pulling away right before you had the chance to properly orgasm.

“w-wait!” you tried to push him back, frantically searching for the edge you were just about to topple off. “w-wh—sunwoo, fuck, d-don’t stop. please.”

tears were pricking your eyes out of frustration—the whole thing being so emotionally and vulnerably charged, you weren’t sure you could hold them back. then, shivers were sent throughout your shaking body as he soothed over your sides and stomach with his hands, lips back to their spot on your thighs.

he propped himself up, staring down at the godly figure he never truly thought you’d let him see. and after a minute, you got embarrassed at the strong gaze on your glistening core; your knees coming together.

his fingers slotted between them, pulling your legs apart. “don’t hide from me, baby. you’re so beautiful—god, all for me, right?”

you whined, quickly sitting up and reaching out for anything he’d give you.

sunwoo kissed your lips again, keeping you at his level with a hand on the small of your back and one gripping the hem of your shirt. you were dizzy from the taste of yourself on him, sunwoo only breaking apart to get the fabric up, and fully over your head. he took off your bra and suddenly the realization that you were fully naked in front of the prized soccer captain, while he was fully clothed, sunk in.

you whined again, too drunk off him to formulate anything coherent. he laughed at how desperately you were pawing at his sweats. “what’s wrong?”

you looked up at him. “fuck me?” and if your eyes weren’t the definition of puppy-dog, he didn’t know what was.

he smiled, grabbing your wrist. “patience, baby. i’ll give you what you want.”

you fell back again, opting to obey him because you were honestly too far gone to come up with anything else to do.

and he did, taking off his sweats, along with the rest of his clothes and pressing his body to yours. his lips were connected back to you and you clawed at his shoulders—anything to ground yourself—while his held your torso down firmly.

he looked between your bodies as he lined himself with your entrance. your head was thrown back, and he pressed a chaste kiss to the middle of your neck before mumbling. “you are pretty when you cry, y/n.” and pushing in slowly.

the stretch only burned for a minute until you moaned almost embarrassingly loud with each shallow thrust. a hand instinctively come up to hide them away. but, that only lasted so long until sunwoo intertwined his fingers with yours, pushing them into the bed on either side of your head.

“don’t hide them, baby,” he sighed against your lips. “please.”

and, whether you wanted to or not, you didn’t have a choice. the noises fell freely from your lips into his shoulder, as he sucked and nipped at your neck again.

“i-is it good?” you could barely hear him, your ears ringing with pleasure; was it good? is he stupid?

you choked on a chuckle, feeling him angle himself just perfectly inside you to brush against your g-spot. “holy fuck,”

“right there, baby?” he did it again, taking notes and storing them away in the back of his mind. your head lulled back again, and he watched your face contort, mouth falling open. “does it feel good?” you couldn’t reply, his thrusts only getting harder after that.

you could feel the band in your stomach tightening, and you feared you wouldn’t even be able to tell him you were getting so close, so fast—too fast.

but, somewhere deep-down, he already knew.

“fuck, you feel so good, y/n.” he sighed, lips ghosting over yours. “i must be the luckiest man in the world, right?” it was rhetorical, but even if you felt the need to answer, all that was coming out of your mouth was moans, groans, and mewls. “perfect body—fuck—perfect personality, perfect pussy, perfect fucking mouth,” he grabbed your chin, your free hand now going to clutch into the skin on his arm. his eyes met your tear-filled, and blurry ones. “open your mouth,”

there was a fire within you when you did as he said, mouth falling open. he spat on your tongue, and you didn’t know whether you came right then or just flat-out died.

“swallow it,” he said—no, demanded—almost making it an impossible task by putting his fingers into your mouth, pushing them to the back of your throat, and making you gag around him. he felt you clench harder at the act. “gonna fuck this throat one day, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

you would.

but, he was spewing heated words into a brick wall. “you’re mine, right?” he asked, taking his saliva-covered fingers from your mouth and bringing them between your bodies.

the moment his fingers landed on your clit, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. the hand that was still intertwined with his was losing circulation from how hard your were gripping it, and the other was scratching his perfect skin hard enough to bleed.

no one had ever made you feel so cold, yet so fucking warm at the same time. nothing you've ever experienced has been as intense and kim sunwoo; the delinquent soccer player. you feared no one could ever make you feel like this again.

so, of course you were his.

“look at me, y/n.” he whispered, kissing along your jaw gently—in contrast to the heavy and hard thrusts he kept at a steady rhythm. “c’mon, y/n, be a good girl. please.”

you felt the impending desire to now, head leveling. his forehead then came to rest against it, fighting off your urge to let it roll back again.

he pecked your lips between sentences. “mine, right?” god, he kept asking an obvious question. “be mine, okay? cum for me,” he circled your clit faster, determined to make you finish one last time. “i got you.”

his voice alone was enough to make you topple over the edge, your noises raising a couple octaves. your vision went white, body convulsing under sunwoo, who kept his eyes on your face the entire time; in awe of you. he fucked you through it of course, mumbling praises, before the overwhelming feeling of fire bloomed between you two; disguised by overstimulation.

you mewled. “woo, p-please stop.” he kissed you quiet, slowing down. but, you didn’t actually want him to stop. “h-hurts… just a little,”

his hand intertwined with yours again. “being such a good girl—taking it so well. just a little more, okay? i promise,” he sighed, feeling the way your walls clenched him in, barely letting him pull out, only causing him to thrust harder. “almost there, y/n, where do you want it?”

your legs caged him against you. “fill me up, please.” and you weren’t above begging for it, especially not in a state of post-euphoria. “cum in me.”

he threw his head back momentarily, fighting off a strong urge to start a second round. how in gods name did he get so lucky? he thought to himself, bringing his forehead back to yours.

he locked eyes onto you. “yeah?” you nodded slightly, eyes full of tears you didn’t know if you’d shed. “gonna be so good and take it all?”

you moaned when he started grinding against you, your clit being stimulated by his pubic-bone.

“could fuck you forever.” he admitted. “do you want me to?”

you spewed out a quiet yes, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was being serious—maybe he was. you were too far gone to even begin guessing.

he kissed you again, desperately fighting your tongue with his. he continued to kiss down your jaw and into your neck, leaving glistening marks in his wake. he sucked on your collarbone, finding a sweet-spot you didn’t even know you had, and biting down for a second. your mouth fell open in a silent scream, an orgasm you didn’t even know was there, washing over you.

sunwoo just kept forcing you to learn about yourself—you guess, it’s a good thing you’ve always been known for studying, isn’t it?

your intense orgasm triggered his, a soft groan leaving his lips as uneven thrusts made sure you both were fully satisfied.

you felt fuzzy, brain completely melted under his touch. your heavy breathing mixed with his, his body fully collapsing from exhaustion. however, his weight wasn’t enough to suffocate you, so you let him stay where he was, breaking your hand from his and threading it into his damp hair.

the silence was loud—heartbeats intertwined—as you both came down, the reality about to set in.

would he push you away after this? did he even mea—

“i meant it, by the way.” your eyebrows creased. you weren’t even sure if you had imagined that. and, if you didn’t feel the rumbling of his chest on yours as he spoke, you might’ve believed it was only in your head. “be mine, okay?”

little did he know, you already were.

you whispered out a reply. “okay.”

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

— tag list .ᐟ send an ask to be added c:

— back to masterlist .ᐟ

[artdcnaldson]

okay but PLEASE elaborate on Olympics!Art AU

TeeHee

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v), feral obsessive behavior, infidelity

A/N: And you would do it too, that’s all I’m saying. Also IMPORTANT note: I love Tashi, she is a mother to many. However this fic has a very obsessive reader who just wants to fuck a married man, at Tashi’s expense

Maybe you were a bad person.

You’d met Art and Tashi Donaldson before— a year back at an event held for Tennis’ rising stars. That was you, some other guys who had done well in the Juniors, a girl from an Ivy League, and more people that fell into the blind spots of your interest..

You must’ve looked so sweet in your formalwear, approaching the couple with shaking hands so you could say just how big of a fan you were. You had no ill intent then, not when you were face to face with two people you’d idolized since you were twelve and watching the Junior US Open. That night you’d taken a deep breath as you stared at the ceiling of your home, feeling like you’d made it.

Sure, Art was handsome, and you’d lived the past decade harboring a massive celebrity crush on him, but he was married, he was untouchable. Art Donaldson oozed that sweet, devoted husband shtick. Anniversary posts, birthday posts, Valentine’s Day posts, Mother’s Day posts. He had a daughter, he posted about how much he loved being a dad.

You were fine accepting that your fantasies of fucking Art Donaldson were strictly fantasies. But that was before you qualified and had to see him every fucking day.

Art Donaldson, who held open doors for you, who talked to you casually, like he might an old friend. Art, who stood in the long line in the food court with you, ate something he probably shouldn’t have, and asked that you don’t tell Tashi.

And you’d smile conspiratorially, and assure him his secret was safe with you. The implication being that you’d keep that secret, and more. As many as he’d ask you to, really.

You’d see him on a practice court, running drills with his wife, and feel the heat of jealousy in the pit of your stomach. You’d turn away, focus on your own game, practice until your hands were aching and sore.

“Where’s Mrs. Donaldson?” You asked one night after you’d been sexiled and had to sit out in the hallway waiting for your roommate to finish up. Art leaned against the wall, standing tall above you, so you had to crane your neck. You liked that point of view, on your knees looking up at him, you wondered if he liked it too.

“Oh, she’s staying in a very nice, very expensive hotel room with our daughter right now,” he said with a grin. “As soon as my events are done, that’s where I’ll be too.”

“Oh,” you said, bringing an easy smile to your lips. “Well, we’re all glad you’re here now.”

“We?” He questioned.

You gave a coy smile, batting your lashes so sweetly. “Maybe just me.”

There was a strange expression on his face for just a moment. Then he laughed like it was nothing. He wished you a goodnight and good luck in your matches the next morning, and disappeared into his own room.

You medaled in women’s doubles. They published photos of you and your partner biting the silver between your teeth. That same day, Art Donaldson took home gold. You were there to see the very end of his last match— every single collision of racket against ball, every step, every grunt of exertion. Your thighs clenched as you watched, fists balled up in the fabric of your skirt.

You wanted him in a needy, desperate sort of way. Like a groupie for a rock band, or a virgin being sacrificed on a mountaintop. You watched him celebrate with a kiss from Tashi and felt that same need like an open wound. Jealousy was festering in you like a rot.

The dive bar wasn’t what you’d expected. Something Art had found with a quick google search and a few minutes with a translation app. He’d knocked on your door to invite you, wearing the beaming smile of someone on top of the world.

“So you’ll come?” He asked after he told you all about it.

“Mhmm,” you said, heart hammering against your ribs. “I’ll come.”

And there you were— in a dress that hardly qualified as such— standing so close to him that you could smell his expensive cologne. His arm would brush yours, he’d glance over and apologize with a warm hand to your arm. You’d clench your thighs together and peer at him through your lashes. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.

A few of the other players disappeared to play darts, or watch the late night coverage of the other sports still competing. You stuck by Art’s side, happily allowing his attention to fall on you completely.

“I saw parts of your doubles final,” he said finally. He was drinking a brand of beer you’d never seen before— something local, you supposed. “You looked beautiful out there.” Your eyes lit up, and then he added. “The way you were playing, I mean— it was phenomenal.”

“Well, I’m no gold medalist,” you said. You let your hand rest on his arm, and looked up at him. The fingers on your other hand toyed with the edge of the medal, warm from where it had been flush against his chest.

He swallowed. You felt his muscles flex beneath your touch, but he didn’t discourage it. Not one fucking bit.

It wasn’t lost on you that Tashi wasn’t there. Not that it was really her type of venue, from what you had gathered. It wasn’t lost on you that Art Donaldson was at a dive bar, drinking random Brazilian beers, instead of celebrating with his wife, with his daughter. Fuck all those posts on his instagram— if he really was a good husband, a faithful one… that’s the only place he’d want to be.

“I saw your match too. I ran right over after my ceremony to watch,” you confessed. It was hard to concentrate on anything else— you were standing so close to him that you were nearly pressed completely into his body.

His lips twitched in interest. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhmm. It was incredible. You were so dominant out there, just taking what was rightfully yours.”

He swallowed again, gravitating closer. Your tits were practically spilling out of your dress— he probably got the perfect eyeful when he eased you closer with a firm hand on your lower back, when he looked down at you through blown pupils.

“You looked so fucking hot out there, Art,” you said, lips brushing against his jawline. “You can’t even imagine how it felt sitting there, watching you win. How turned on I got… how wet.”

Art exhaled a shuddery breath. “Jesus Christ.”

It must’ve been a while since he had someone want him this bad, you thought. Clearly he needed it— needed a pretty, sweet thing to tell him just how much they wanted him. You could be that. You could do that.

“I’m not wearing panties,” you whispered in his ear. His grip on you tightened and you had to suppress a giddy smile. “You can feel if you want. I won’t tell.”

He swore under his breath and glanced around. Everyone was too occupied or drunk to give a shit about what the two of you were up to.

He grabbed your hand, pulled you away into the bathroom. You looked pretty even then, in the flickering lights, sat up on the edge of the sink eagerly awaiting his attention.

When he wrenched your thighs apart, he was greeted by the pretty sight of your glistening cunt— sticky with arousal and need. His hand fit there perfectly, right where you needed it.

“Fuck,” you gasped. His fingers rubbed through your slit— wet and hot and aching for him. Your head fell back, knocking against the dirty mirror. “Want you to use me— whatever you want, just take it.”

And you meant it too. This was your teenage idol— a man you’d touched yourself to the thought of countless times. He owned your body, your sexuality, as much as you did. It was only fair he took from it whatever he pleased.

You watched with hungry eyes as he fumbled with the button of his pants, then shoved them down just enough to free his dick.

Your mouth fucking watered with the need to feel it on your tongue, nudging against the back of your throat. You weren’t opposed to begging— you nearly started before you got it into your hand.

Warm, thick, pulsing. Precum beaded at his tip, so you smeared it around the sensitive head of his cock with your thumb. He groaned, bucked into your fist once, twice before he moved your hand.

“Spread your legs wider for me,” he said, slapping the inside of your thighs. You obeyed wordlessly, spreading yourself out invitingly. He pressed closer, so you felt him rutting his dick against your pussy, coating it in your arousal. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

The words came out with equal parts disgust and awe. He probably thought you were a slut with the way you were throwing yourself at him. You wished he’d just call you that, spit it in your face.

Your cunt pulsed with need, aching to be filled up finally. The culmination of years of fantasizing. Art pressed himself against your entrance, sinking himself into you with the slow reverence of a man who liked making love.

He buried himself inside of you and had to stop moving to keep from cumming then and there. He was a perfect image of restraint— the way his fingers dimpled the flesh of your hips in a bruising grip.

Art wanted to be a gentleman— to give you time to adjust to the size of him, to ease you into it and let the pleasure be a slow, soft burn. He pulled out nice and easy, slid himself into your wet, throbbing cunt. That was all fine and good, but you knew it was just pretense. You were laid out and wanting, begging for him to use you as his own personal toy.

“I’m not your wife, Art.” You met his gaze, locked your ankles around his waist. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

The first thrust, the first real one, knocked the air from your lungs. That silence didn’t last long— because you got what you wanted— he was really fucking you, bullying his cock into your pussy with the same need and desperation that you felt.

“Jesus Christ, you’ve— fuck— you’ve got no fucking self respect, huh?” He pounded into you, leveraging his grip to pull you against him, really impale you on his dick.

The moan that escaped you was pornographic. If he kept talking to you like that, if he kept fucking you like that, you’d cum.

“You don’t even care, do you? This fucking pussy’s squeezing me so tight— you fucking love this,” His voice was strained, interrupted by groans and pants.

You moaned, eyes rolling back. “Love this,” you echoed. When you looked down, at the sight of him splitting you open, of the ring of creamy arousal circling the base of his dick, you felt dizzy. Like you were standing on top of a tall building and looking down. Sort of out of body, tethered in the present by brutal thrusts into your pussy and the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies joining.

Your fingers moved between your thighs, rubbing needy and insistent at your clit. So close to finishing that you wanted to cry and just ask to start over again, that you’d savor it more a second time.

“Gonna cum,” he groaned suddenly. You felt him start to pull out, to leave. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck— not yet, you didn’t want it to end like that. “I have an IUD,” you lied through your teeth. You used your legs, pulled him closer, deeper. “Just keep going, don’t stop. I’m right there.”

He moaned against your throat— holding you tight, fucking into you with animal need. Your fingers moved against your clit with an insistent need. It didn’t take much to push you over the edge. Your moans so loud that Art had to put his medal between your lips to shut you up.

And you were so pliant— letting him drill into your aching, used cunt, your mouth tasting like metal. You felt his rhythm falter— one, two harsh thrusts that knocked muffled moans from you until he came, painting your insides thick, creamy white.

He stayed buried inside of you for a while— panting, doing his best to catch his breath. You spat out the medal and it fell back against his chest, spit slick and shining. You reached up, ran your fingers along his face, reverently, sweetly. A lock of hair fell into his eyes and you tucked it away with delicate fingers.

When he pulled out, you felt that sinking feeling of loss and jealousy in your chest. He redressed in silence, turned away like he couldn’t stand to look at you, or the mirror. Shame rolled off of him in waves that you wanted to brush away.

It wasn’t bad, you’d assure him. You’re a tennis star, you’re the greatest in the world. You should have whatever you want, whenever you want it.

But you didn’t say that. You just tidied yourself up as best as you could and slipped back out into the bar. If anyone noticed, they said nothing.

[simp-ly-writes]

Are You Mine?

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.3)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Assistant!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: No matter how hard you try, your body, your mind, heart, and it seems that every other person you meet all agree on one thing, you and Jayce.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, light angst, fluff, touch as a love language, jealous! and protective!Jayce (no seriously), HIGHLY suggestive themes, kissing, reader is mentioned to have hair and is shorter than Jayce.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 4,026

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: I'm just obsessed with these two... and I hope you guys are as well ;)

─────── · ·

─ · · Pulling your white lab coat over your dress and zipping up your boots, you locked your door and made your way to the laboratory- excited to take your mind away from silk and ties to formulas and equations.

─ · · You smiled softly, greeting everyone in the halls as they each waved and said their "good afternoons!" You were always shocked by the kindness of everyone and their ability to recognize you even when you did everything in your power to stay tucked away where you were comfortable (yet Jayce always had a secret power of teasing you out and into the public's eye)

─ · · But just as you were to step into the elevator and swipe your card, a dozen voices called out to you, an older student guide running after them, their parents staggering behind as your shoulders tensed before you turned around. "Miss (name)! Miss (name)!," they all begged and cheered once seeing your face. You smiled softly, "Good afternoon everyone" you greeted as they all came running, wide eyes and smiles.

It was a new potential batch of scholars that were visiting the school for the afternoon, you shook your head forgetting what day it was today as you shook each of their hands, their guide, a younger peer of yours in the biology wing winced, apologizing. "Miss (name) is a very important and highly influential public figure that you all appear to know... and they are also on a strict schedule-"

"Can we just ask a few questions?" "yes, can we please?" the students beg and you see some of the parents begging as well as the guide who looks over to you with equal pleading eyes. You sigh, "Only a couple, I have a meeting with the Councillor soon," you explain as they ooh and ahh. You tuck your books close to your chest, trying to hide the shaking in your hands.

"Whats it like working with Councillor Talis?" you giggle at the question, shaking your head, letting your hair cover your face. "I have worked with the Councillor for nearly a decade now and I can say that he is a brilliant man that puts the care of others before himself, and I am here to make sure someone is there to ensure he can work in prime condition." The student thanks you, taking a step back as a another steps forwards.

"I really love your dress, where did you get it?" you look up with a small smile watching as the student hangs on to your every word, "A friend made it or well got it made for me on my work-anniversary," you explain.

"Whats your favourite part of your job?" You hmm, thinking or your answer as you shuffle the books in your arm. "I really enjoy being able to listen to Councillor Talis's and Mr. Viktor's ideas and plans as they work them out piece by piece- getting a touch of their genius is nothing short of pure magic." They take a step back as you look at your watch, one more question...

"Mrs. Talis, I must say that-" you can hear a few of the students gasp and giggle as you go bright red and stare at your shoes before clearing your throat, "I'm afraid I'm not his mother, that is a special role for Miss. Ximena, Leader of House of Talis," you explain as the parent apologizes, going to pick up your hand yet you take a step away, picking up your head, "I'm afraid I must take my leave, please, enjoy the rest of your tour." You swiftly stand back inside the elevator, watching as the doors close in front of your face yet catching parts of the leftover conversation.

"I mean I thought that they were together?"

"Dad you're so embarrassing! Ugh, just because a pretty and smart lady is beside a man does not mean that they're together!"

"Well, son, every time I see that man looking at that woman like she hung all the stars in his sky..." This has to stop, you told yourself.

─────── · ·

─ · · You were surprised to see just Viktor in the laboratory today, but you were overwhelmingly thankful for it as you took your safety equipment from off the rack and walked over to stand behind Viktor who was currently holding a piece of chalk to his chin in contemplation

"I'm not one to miss others, but a morning without your coffee was nothing short of a funeral," you snorted, "Aww, I didn't know you would miss me so much Viktor. I promise to stay with you every moment of the day," you tease to hear a scoff.

"Please don't. I don't need another earful from Jayce," your eyebrows shoot up as you pour and mix Viktor's coffee before handing it to him and pick up a piece of chalk, silently fixing a missing digit as he curses underneath his breath. "Jayce already came in?" you question, taking a look at your watch again.

"Yes, just left with Mel," you hum, tapping your foot as you look over the final answer before moving up the latter and fix another portion. "Thats it?" Viktor comments, taking a sip of his coffee, doing his best to hide his pleased reaction as you look over your shoulder before sliding with the latter over to the other side. "Whats it?" you retort.

"I mean, you and Jayce are the same entity... I was surprised to... not have you this morning," Viktor explains, sitting down to rest his leg, watching as you work and fix his diagram. "No, that was correct," he comments- "Its a .5" you say back before sharing rolled-eyes.

"If you want to say you missed me, Viktor in your own little ways, it's okay, I already understood the first message and I have missed you too," you don't turn around while speaking, drawing the hexcore from memory at this point.

"That was not my, 'message,'" Viktor says in a monotone voice, "I was saying that Mels presence... is to be a one time occurrence, yes?" You laugh, stepping down before rolling your chair over to sit beside Viktor, opening up one of your journals with last weeks trial information. "I didn't know you to be so outspokenly political, Viktor," you tease- not quite touching again on what Viktor was trying to say.

His brow furrows, sharp lines coating over his features in annoyance. "And here I thought you to be smart-" you lightly slap his arm, "Viktor!"

"What I'm trying to say is that I much prefer having you and Jayce." You let the words linger in the room and swim in your head before speaking up, "Well, you would be of the few wanting that, not even myself," you stand, passing the papers over before heading back towards the doors. "I will be back to write down the final findings of today, do remember to eat the lunch I placed in the fridge," Viktor nods waiting for the door to be closed before sighing, Jayce, Jayce, Jayce.

─────── · ·

─ · · You knock before entering Jayce's office, confused as to why you do not see him there. You take a minute, sitting in front of his desk, waiting and watching as the minutes tick over... Now that you think about it, you didn't see him since leaving him in the hallway that night...

─ · · You check the library, check the lab again to see Viktor stumble awake and act like he was working the whole time, you roll your eyes, yelling at him to eat before closing the door again. You even walk towards the councillor room, nobody bats an eyelash watching you go around into these spaces as you scurry your way out of another empty room.

─ · · The day was almost nearing finished now and you needed to go over what Jayce would be doing and showing for his years Progress Day. And with little locations left, you took off towards the House of Talis in search of the Man of Progress

─ · · The guard smiled at you, a white glove welcoming you inside as you cleaned off the bottom of your boots and walked down the hall. You smile remebering the first time you came into this home when you first started working for Jayce. How it was just his mother to fill the space, you were thankful that Jayce had hired people to help her around the home- provide her company as you and Jayce had become more and more busy.

─ · · "Councillor Talis?" you called out, listening to how your words echoed in the empty space before being received by not the Talis you were looking for but Ximena.

"Hello dear," she greets you, arms wrapping you up into a hug as she pressing a kiss on to your cheek. You flush, mouth opening and closing before squeezing out a small "hello" back to her chuckle.

"As timid as the first time, I did hope that Jayce would get you to come out of your shell more. Please, our home is your home, be comfortable, would you like some tea or coffee maybe?" Mrs. Talis asks, still holding your hand as she leads you into a sitting room. Tall windows invite the setting sun to flood the space in warmth.

Now that you are sitting, you can truly take in the whole feeling of the plush furnishings and various pictures of a younger Jayce upon the walls. You smile at the woman before you, "A tea would be wonderful, can I help-"

"No! no- you do enough already, dear. Please, allow me," you feel immensely bad, a noble woman pouring your own tea? You could feel your own mother rolling in her grave- screaming at you. Picking at the small jewellery you wear you jump as a cup is being presented in front of your face.

"Now, tell me. How is my boy Jayce doing?" She asks with hopeful eyes looking into your own. You tilt your head, hand brushing behind your neck that causes the woman to smile even larger, "Umm, I was hoping that you would know where your son is actually. I have spent the day looking for him," you explain. Her smile drops and all you can feel is guilt.

"I'm sure he's okay! I mean I've watched him train-" you think back to him shirtless, panting, sweat dripping down his forehead as he looks at you, "a-and he can defend himself! he always has staff and the guard around to help and-" you start to rattle off answers before becoming shushed by the wave of a hand as you fold your hands in your lap. "I must tell that boy off, you poor thing, you shouldn't have to be running after him," she shakes her head, apologizing to you instead as she calls a staff member over, whispering something into their ear as they both stare at you and the staff leaves.

"I must say, dear. You looked stunning in that gown last night, I loved seeing all the pictures of you and Jayce together," you place on a tight smile nodding your head along to her words as you sweat, remembering how you ripped into her "dear Jayce" last night. Now that you think about it... you hope the collar to your shirt is high enough from last night, shit, so thats what people have been staring at... Somehow Ximena Talis catches your thoughts as she laughs, "It's alright dear," your cheeks warm, "I'm thankful that my son has chosen someone like you," she clarifies and you feel sick, "someone of clear morals, intelligent and kind. The true definition of beauty."

But before you can explain that you and her son were not in fact together, the doors open once more and a stoic Jayce Talis is accompanied by Mel. You and her share a nod and smile to one another, you feel Jayce's stare as you stand and bow your head slightly. "Good evening, Councillors," you greet.

"None of that now, (name)," Jayce shuns you, walking over and pressing a kiss to his mothers hand. He then moves to you, leaning down, your heart pounding in anticipation yet he stops, standing back upright and clearing his throat as Mel walks back to his side. "There was something that needed to be discussed?" Jayce asks, taking a seat as Mel sits on the arm of his chair, I remember doing that in his office- you close your eyes, no, not anymore. Professionals- remember, professionals...

"Yes, Councillor Ta-" Jayce glares- hard at you, daring you to continue your words. "Jayce," you correct yourself with squinted eyes as he nods, leaning away from Mel to focus on you entirely. You watch as his mother leans back, smiling behind her teacup. "I needed to talk with you about your Progress Day preparations and what Viktor and I found from todays tests."

Jayce stares at you for a moment, taking in the small exchange you and Mel shared earlier before he connects two and two together for what happened at the party. But just as he connects that answer, he is left with a dozen new ones. Why push me away now? Why shy away? Do you not understand how much you mean to me? Can't you see this is so much more than just "work"? Why don't you love me? Why... don't you... why? Is it me? Am I the problem? What do I need to do, to change, to get you to see me?

"Mel and I have Progress Day handled already, sweetheart, (name). Now what did you two find?" His smile appears forced, his hands fidgeting as his eyes tip down, watching at how you play with the rings on your fingers. Its like watching two computers talk to one another, Mel cringes, starting to feel out of place as she stands and sits down on another chair, watching you both with curious eyes.

─ · · Jayce looked pained his muscles flexing to keep him sitting in place. His eyes were wide, head nodding along to your every word- transfixed. It was like you had casted some sort of magical spell over the man- desperate to touch even an essence of you. Mel watched as you stuttered once seeing his stare on you, watched your adorable fidgeting and animated explanations, you truly came out of your shell taking about what you were confident in, she was beginning to understand Jayce's words when speaking about you.

"She can explain anything, can find just the right words or know want I need without even looking. Sometimes I swear she even knows I'm thinking about her and when our eyes meet, I feel sick in the best way. She is the perfect woman and I want to... meet whoever get's lucky enough to be with her..."

─ · · Mel, blinks, bringing herself back to the present. "I-I, or well, Viktor and I found that by positions the runes at .5 of a degree southwards inline with the sun results in more power coming from the vessel... we did a small test on one of your hammers, its force is nothing short of incredible,-" you lose yourself, taking a mile a minute as you open up your books and show, it starts to feel just like old times again as Jayce almost falls out of his chair to look more closely at your drawings, nodding along as he flips back and forth between designs.

─────── · ·

─ · · Ximena Talis's small smile is now a full born smirk as she tips her head over to Mel, "they really are perfect for one another, are they not?" she says. Mel does not reply right away, you both were just... working and yet Jayce was so animatic and attentive with you. Pulling your hand from picking at your skin, flipping the page for you as you rattled off statistics before he was not even speaking fluent English, only numbers that you jotted down with ease and precision; keeping up with his every thought.

That once stoic Jayce that she entered the room with was nowhere to be found as he looked just about ready to fall into your lap and have you pet his hair. "They work well together," Mel answers. Not looking at the raised chin she received. "Hm," Zimena scoffs, "I knew she was the one the first time I met her. Jayce refused to orbit anywhere without her in reach. At first I was scared to see my boy jump to confidence so quickly, to put himself out there, but when we sat and had dinner together. I could see why he was pushing himself so hard- it was for her. Always for her even if he chooses to say else wise." Mel looks at Jayce's mother as they both exchange a silent conversation... she never had a chance.

─────── · ·

─ · · You both are breathless, now sitting on the same couch after your discoveries. Jayce looks down at you, at your exposed neck before his heart hammers and burns in his chest like stakes through his heart. He keeps uncovering answers tonight and now he wants them to stop appearing.

You catch his look, moving your hair and not meeting his furrowed brows. You watch a fist form in his lap his hand grip the couch from behind your head. He leans in, uncaring, or well... too caring, as usual as you turn away, exposing the markings again. "I want you to listen to my speech this weekend before the event," Jayce says, a statement rather than a question. You think back on your already planned weekend plans yet all you can see his Jayce's honey eyes staring into your own, drinking you in and leaving you breathless, How could you refuse?

You nod, watching as he smirks before offering a hand, holding it, his thumb rolling over your knuckles in an effort to soothe himself more than you it seems and leads you out towards the door.

But before you can put on your coat and leave, he pulls your arm back, pressing your back against the wood door and your chests together. Your eyes go wide, a small gasp leaving your lips that his eyes flicker down to. He brings a hand up to circle your cheek before resting his forehead against your own, "A night without you, your words, your touch... helped me to remember how much I need you-"

"You have me, Jayce," you say albeit a little breathless and overwhelmed. You pray that Mel and his mother don't come after you both soon, or maybe you did, you didn't know what to think honestly while being enveloped in with warmth.

"No, I," he sighs, "I know that but," Jayce appears frustrated, brining a fist up beside your head before he steps back, gripping his hair. You extend you head, touching his shoulder gently feeling him take breaths. You stand up on your toes, pulling his chin down to look at you, "Jayce, hey, you can tell me anything you know that right? I'm your assistant, I am meant to help you with anything-"

"Help me?" Jayce asks softly, you nod, eyes welling with concern. You hadn't seen him this way not since Viktor had been getting more and more ill... "I need you to kiss me."

You blink, the words not quite reaching your ears as he places his head on your shoulder. "what?" you ask, looking back at the doors you exited form, still closed. "I need you to kiss me."

"Jayce!" you whisper shout, his hair tickling your neck as he grabs your hips, a part of you missing the feeling of his large hands on your body. "Are you alright?" you ask, starting to feel his head for any bumps and body for any bruises. He groans from your touch.

"No. I'm not since you don't understand," his grips tightens as you whimper, "you are mine. You are everything to me. I don't care what anyone else says or thinks, I only think- feel you. I cannot function without having you close, I need to hold you, to-to touch you to even have a chance speaking properly and you ground me more than anyone else could, more than I would allow anyone else to."

You shake in his arms, gripping his shoulders, his words shocking you to your core. "Jayce-I" he can already hear the hesitation in your voice. "Whats holding you, holding us back?" he asks, looking at you again, you know you cannot lie.

"I'm you assistant, Jayce-I-I-" Jayce lets you go and all you can feel is cold without his touch. You cross your arms, shivering in your coat.

"You're fired then, what else I need to do to make you want me, make you need me," Jayce says, you gasp, Jayce is completely serious, his strong arms crossing over his own chest as he stares you down, "and before you go saying you have a boyfriend, I know it was a one-night stand." You roll your eyes at him- wrong choice.

Jayce pulls you outside once hearing the room stir from behind you both. You feel as though it is that night in the hallway again as he walks through the streets, the cool night air kissing your skin as Jayce pulls you away and back to his apartment. "J-Jayce! You're not acting like yourself, please," you beg for what you don't know yet he does nothing to reply not until you both are inside then and suddenly, his mouth is on yours and you can't help but lose the feeling in your legs and fold into his touch.

Jayce grabs your neck, pressing his lips harder against your own as his tongue parts your lips, deepening the kiss. You pull at his jacket, forgetting yourself, forgetting the setting in this moment before pulling away- gasping for air before Jayce is pulling you back in for another, not giving you time to think. His lips paint over every mark and indent in your skin as if trying to make you forget.

Your breath gets cut off for a second as he licks at your collarbone, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, "Jayce," you moan out his name as he growls kissing you, swallowing your words. You grip at the material of his shirt, pulling him closer to you, you can feel him smile against your skin before leaving a series of lingering kisses up your neck and behind your ear in which he playfully bites.

Jayce's voice is deep, his words short as he whispers them only for you to hear, "I love you." You freeze taking in your first deep breath, your eyes fully open to look into his own, you can see just how scared he is in this moment yet so ready to lose it all just for the chance of being with you. Your heart hammers you can feel his own pounding against your clothes that feel way too hot in this moment.

"I love you too, Jayce," you say, he kisses your cheek. "Say it again," he commands, picking you up by the back of your things. You wrap them around his waist, squealing as your back hits a plush bed. You look up, watching as Jayce removes his shirt. Your lips parted, hair spread out like a Halo behind your head, your legs still parted to leave space for him as he leans down on his forearms, encaging your head.

"I-I love you," you say again, this time a bit more timid than he likes. He rolls his hips into your own as you cry, "Say it again."

"I love you!" you say with a bit more confidence, nails reaching up to feel the muscles of his back. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your nose, "I love you too."

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: don't ask I don't know what came over me to write this last section LMAO. So... part 4 anyone, part 4 LOL jk jk... (unless?) 👀

─ · · TAGLIST: @sseleniaa

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

[xxchumanixx]

Nothing at all

Tim Bradford x reader

Warnings: 18+, mdni!, smut, secret relationship

Word Count: 751

Authors Note: Helloooo, I'm currently obsessing over Tim Bradford. I just recently started the rookie, and I love it already.

Anyways, have fun!

"He shouldn't have attacked you." Tim murmured, still looking forward as you waited for the captain to continue.

Rolling your eyes you looked at him through your peripheral vision. "I can defend myself." you gave back, straightening your back slightly.

A possible murderer had attacked you when you wanted to handcuff him. Your head still hurt a little from him smacking his against yours.

"I know." he returned. "Otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to defeat me in training yesterday."

The memory made you smile to yourself. Though you were still a rookie, you had managed to defeat him in yesterday's training.

"There's definitely something going on between them."

Though Lucy tried to whisper, you still heard her from your spot. They stood a few feet away, curiously watching.

Barely holding back from rolling your eyes again you rocked on your heel. How long would it take for them to make a decision?

"Takeout tonight?" Tim wanted to know quietly, his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his slacks.

Nodding you agreed. "Your treat?" Sighing he nodded as well. "Why not."

Grinning to yourself you contemplated what to eat, when the captain and Grey left the captains office. "Your dismissed." she said, nodding to you two.

Thanking her you separated, as you walked towards Lucy, Jack and John.

"It's not." you told Lucy, to what she looked at you questioningly. "There's nothing going on between officer Bradford and me."

He smiled devilishly, as he pushed you against your apartments door, his breath fanning over your face as his lips met yours.

"Yeah, tell that the looks he's giving you." Lucy returned, cocking one eyebrow. "You're like an old married couple."

Shaking your head you huffed.

"No, you know that it wouldn't be allowed." you spoke, well knowing what happened between her and John - only a fool wouldn't see.

Stumbling towards your bedroom his lips never left yours, only as he pulled your shirt over your head, discarding it on the floor, joining his.

"I don't think that Bradford would be her type." Jackson said like you weren't there, shaking his head. "He's married." you gave back, your brows knitted together.

"The divorce is almost done with." Lucy threw in, shrugging her shoulders. "No, guys, there is nothing going on." you insisted, eyes widening slightly. "Nothing at all."

You moaned loudly, as he fucked you into the mattress. The power he pounded into you with matched the one in training. He was relentless. His lips kissed down your throat, as you exposed it when your head tilted backwards from the pleasure he brought to you.

John only smiled slightly at your conversation, having his fair share with what you were talking about.

"But it just-" Lucy was searching for the right words, her hands gesturing wildly. "You guys just seem so close!"

Cocking a brow you looked at her, contemplating if you should shake her to make her forget that thought.

You had to be more careful, if you wanted to keep things hidden.

Moaning his name you came, hard. He followed closely behind you, face buried in your neck. Breathing heavily you felt the weight of his body above you, it's heat radiating off of it.

His familiar cologne mixed with sweat, his hair faintly smelling of shampoo. You came to love it over the past few months of your arrangement.

"Can we talk about something else?" you almost pleaded, done with them snooping in your private life.

Huffing, Lucy shook her head. "I will be on the lookout." she warned, smiling to herself. "I will find out whatever it is you two are hiding."

Smiling back at her you tilted your head. "What makes you think you will find something?" you asked her, silently hoping she wouldn't find anything.

"Nah, I still don't believe there is something going on." Jackson cut in, before Lucy could reply. You almost chuckled at his naivety.

Still breathing heavily you lay beside Tim, not ready to get back up yet. "What do you say-" he started, sitting more upright to look at you. "about a round two after dinner?"

Chuckling you rolled your eyes, his grin sending goosebumps up you bare arms. "Only if I get dessert afterwards." Shaking his head he huffed. "And here I thought I was the dessert."

"Rookies!" Grey shouted, making you flinch. "Are you getting payed for gossiping? Get back to work!"

You all nodded, mumbling a "yes, sir.", before scurrying in different directions.

If they only knew.

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Please please please bless me with more baby daddy Jason. I’m so obsessed with it 😭 just thought about if he caught you staring a little too long at him being a good father he would make fun of how sexy you find him and how you still want him

Oh, how this has lifted my mood after getting covid during the holiday season🙏I can totally see him getting cocky like that, too. Just imagine this man letting out a near-silent scoff as he catches your gaze wandering across his muscles as he picks up your daughter

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd Part 2

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who doesn't actually bother you too much after that night you spent together. To your surprise, he doesn't expect much of anything in return. That moment simply turned into an unacknowledged secret that only the two of you would ever know about.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who still tries to show up to every little preschool function or birthday party your daughter has, despite the unspoken tension between you two. Despite what that little voice in your mind was screaming to do, you actually started inviting him to those kind of things. Typically, he would've just shown up unannounced.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who starts acting like your boyfriend or husband at parent-teacher conferences. On the rare occasion that the both of you show up to discuss your daughter with her teachers, they assume that you're together as a couple. Jason, ever the sly bastard, doesn't correct them.

You don't, either.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who actually starts playing into the role as soon as your 'relationship' gets brought up in public. If you happen to be sitting close enough, he'll grab your hand and start tracing invisible circles onto the back of it with his thumb. If you're really close, Jason will absolutely go as far as to sling an arm around your shoulders.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who is the biggest topic around the other single mothers at your daughter's daycare or preschool. Almost every time he makes an appearance, somebody asks for his number or tries to make small talk. He giggles like an idiot every time you have to scold him for giving them all the rejection hotline number.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who, when he does get asked about relationships by other women at your daughter's childcare facilities, will say that you're together in a committed relationship with no hesitation. He isn't really sure why he does it, either. It only really came about after you two slept together a few months ago.

To be fair, you do call Jason your boyfriend when a creepy guy asks you out.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who starts hanging out with you casually when he gets the chance. You've ripped him a new one a few too many times when telling him to keep out of excessive danger. What better way to spend his off time now that he doesn't do huge missions than being with his two favorite girls?

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who somehow manages to blend right back into your life when he puts vigilante work to the side a little. He's there to pick up your daughter from day care or playdates when you need him to. He's cooking dinner for you and the little one on a rough day before you even have to ask.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who knows exactly how you feel about him. He sees the way your eyes linger as he stands in your kitchen cooking or how your gaze drifts to his biceps as he picks up your daughter to bring her to bed. "Eyes are up here, sweetness," is what he teases every time he catches your stares.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who is knocking on your door mere minutes after you've texted or called him having a breakdown when your daughter is at a sleepover. He doesn't even care what you're crying about, you're scooped up into his arms instantly. "Shhh... I have you," is one of the constant reassurances he mutters into your hair, "I'm right here. You're not alone."

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who has you practically sitting on his lap as he holds you, his calloused hands rubbing up and down your back in a soothing motion. You don't even remember when the slipped under the hem of your (his old) shirt to rub gently at your bare skin.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who listens to you talk, no matter how stupid or silly your problems seem whe compared to his own. He knows better than to give advice other than when you ask for it, so he simplu holds you and listens. "I know, I know..." Is all he coos into your slightly mussed hair as his hands rub and massage your skin.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who waits until you're done speaking to move or say anything. "Look, baby..." You hate how much you still love the petname, "I know it's tough. Trust me, I know." You hate how you love him. "But I'm here, alright? I... I'm sorry I have a tendency to walk out on both of you, but... I'm here now. I'm here as whatever you need me to be. If you need me to stay for you and her, I will. If you need me to leave, I'll go without another thought."

"If you want to forget about what happened the other night, then we'll both forget about it. If you don't want to..." You didn't let him finish, instead capturing his slightly parted lips with your own.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who only pulls away when you do, the pupils of his beautiful green eyes dilated as he looks down at you in his lap. His hands never cease their movement caressing the fat and muscles of your back as he lets out a soft huff of amusement. "You're absolutely crazy getting involved with me voluntarily, doll face." Even as he tries to play it off, you can hear the affection and fondness in his voice.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who takes his time with you instead of rutting into you like an uncaged animal. His hands are slow as they roam across your body, relearning every single one of your curves and crevices like it's the first time he's seen your naked body. Each motion is filled with such care and adoration that you question why you ever split up, even if just for a moment.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who takes every single ounce of your stress away without trying. It doesn't matter that he's only slept with you once or twice in the past couple of years, he's drawing out every single orgasm he can from your pretty little pussy.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who says the nastiest things when hooking up with you. He absolutely gets off on the thought of getting you pregnant again, but he knows better after thinking about the situation the two of you are in. "You're fucking milking me for all I've got, ma," he grunts out as he pounds you relentlessly from behind, his large hands almost dwarfing your hips as he holds them for leverage, "I'm gonna fill this pussy up all over again. You'd like that, huh? You want another little me running around this joint?"

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who, surprisingly, stays the morning after. It isn't picture perfect- nothing ever is- but it's still... Calm. Peaceful. Home. Like something you've never gotten with him before. The pair of you are still completely in the nude, your bodies tangled beneath the mess of sheets. But as your eyes flutter open with the first rays of morning light, the sight of Jason with small clumps of black and white hair stuck to his forehead from the previous night feels right.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who starts sticking around for a few days at a time after that. You're not sure just how it happened, but your daughter certainly loves it. She missed her daddy being around more often instead of being told that he was 'on a work trip' when it wasn't safe for Jason to see her.

BabyDaddy! Jason Todd who doesn't miss a beat when your sweet, innocent daughter asks if he's staying this time and if mommy will stay too. "Of course I am, baby girl," Jason, of course, makes direct eye contact with you as he says this before lifting the toddler into his lap. "Promise?" A smile. An actual, genuine smile that only she can get from him. "Promise."

How could you possibly say no to that?

Masterlist

[mysicklove]

𝐅𝐈𝐗 𝐌𝐄

DAY 2: SUB SPACE + MOMMY KINK

With: Satoru Gojo

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Sub! Gojo, Fem? reader (no pronouns just use of names: mommy and mama), unreleastic portrayal of sub space, mentions of BDSM (rough treatment, degradation,whips, mistress/master use), safeword use (at the end), lots of cooing, Gojo unable to think properly, praise, comfort, clingy/needy Gojo

A/N: this was actually really fun to write! i did a little research on what subspace feels like, and it says it varies from person to person, but it is a sort of euphoric experience. sooo idk! lol. also, a lot of ppl r here for gojos personality, and I feel bad bc he is not like his usual self in this bc of his headspace...dont hate me gojo simps

Gojo Satoru is kinky. Plain and simple. He has tried many different things throughout his lifetime, and he is now confident enough in many different types of sexual play. He spends way too much time on the internet buying all sorts of toys, cuffs, ropes, whips, just to build his secret obsession. He has been with many people, and has always pulled them down to the dark side with him. 

But through it all, he has never found a partner to really push him to his limits. They all get too scared to hurt him, and call their safeword too early. They get uncomfortable when he sobs for mercy, or in other situations, begs for more pain. Gojo doesn't want to be just treated harshly, he wants to be broken. His standards are higher than most.

And finally his dreams came true when he met you. You've been into BDSM for years now, and even if the two of you are dating, you have a strict contract of rules you must obey for eachothers safety. It was cute, he was practically trembling in excitement when he saw the agreement, signing his hame sloppily, and waiting for your next move.

It was strange seeing someone so cheery and upbeat turn into a different breed during a scene. He was long passed the brat now, every defining thought fucked out of him. He's been slapped around, beaten, scolded, forced to orgasm, and humiliated in the past two hours. He has never had anyone treat him this rough. 

A huge part of him loved it, and a small part of him twinged in fear whenever he heard you begin to move again. It sent a multitude of thoughts to his brain, What now? Are you going to hurt him? Was he being good now? Another punishment? 

His blue eyes follow your every movement, and he flinches when you bring your hand up to his face, expecting another slap. You chuckle at the movement, gently petting his face. It takes him a second to realize what is happening, but from there, he melts into your hold. He presses himself deeper into your hand, eyes heavy from exhaustion.

Satoru accomplished his goal though. He was, for the first time ever, wrecked. His hair is matted against his head, damp from sweat. His body is covered in hickeys, bitemarks, bruises, scratches, and marks from the flogger. He was trembling, muscles contracting every couple of seconds without permission. Drools coats his lips, and it starts to drip down his mouth and onto his chin. His eyes seem to be in a different world, cloudy, and half lidded. His cock lays spent against his thigh, flushed red, and leaking just the last of his cum.

But even through it all, he's smiling at you. It’s a fucked out sort of grin, lazy, but content. His cheek is pressed against your palm, and he's nuzzling into it, basking in the softness of your touch, contrasting your earlier actions. “There ya go. You doing all right, Satoru?”

He blinks at you, slow, and thoughtless. “Yeah.”

You climb onto the bed next to him, brushing his hair back affectionately, and a little worriedly. He looked rather beat, and his exhausted eyes made you want to end the session now. “Alright, lets clean you up, and get you to bed,” You soothe, hands rubbing at his thighs, hoping your touch brings him comfort.

Immediately he pulls away, a small pout on his face. “Noooooo,” He uncharacteristically whines, grabbing at your hand. “Wanna…Wanna go some more. I'm doing good, right Mommy? No more punishments,” He pleads, tears coating his eyes. “Reward. Wanna reward, pleaseeee.”

Mommy wasn't todays title. You were called mistress, and master today solely. His words made your eyes widen, and you instantaneously knew he was deep into the subspace. You've seen glimpses of it, the way he becomes uncharacteristically obedient and he gets slightly giggly, probably from the light headed feeling, but he looked deep into his now. His words dragged out, and his body was obviously spent, but still he craved your approval; he wanted nothing more than to please you now. 

Affection, love and care is what he needs right now and you were happy to provide him with it. So, you straddle his lap, and place kisses on every surface you can touch. His body is warm, and he goes slack against your hold, mouth falling open. “Do you want to cum again, ‘toru? Or just attention?”

He goes silent for awhile, his mind hazy, and not liking the idea of making his own choice. He wanted you to take care of him completely, to let his mind slip away, and for you to control his ever thought, movement. “Please,” He mumbles, face scrunching up with frustration.

You are quick to apologize, recognizing his situation almost instantly. “Alright, alright. I'll take care of you. Lets cum one more time, can you do that for me, pretty boy?”

Pretty boy. A nickname unlike the harsh ones he received earlier: brat, slut, dog, whore. In the moment it only increased to turn him on, but now, he wanted to be good. The thought of you calling him those names made him want to tear up, and sob into your arms. He didn't want you to be mean anymore, he wants you to love him. To praise him on anything and everything. 

He jumps when he feels your hand drift back to his cock. It aches from all the abuse from earlier, and he lets out a shaky whimper, not liking the pain as much as he once did. “H-Hurts,” He yelps, wishing for you to make it better. To fix it all, why did everything ache so badly? He wants comfort, and as quickly as possible.

You kiss at his tears and pull his face into your neck. “‘m sorry. Was Mommy too rough with you today? Shhh, it’ll feel better in a bit, just relax,” You encourage, beginning to slide your hand up and down his length. He twitches and mewls from beneath you, fighting the feeling of overstimulation and pleasure. He wants this, he wants this, he wants this so badly, but he wishes it wasn't so uncomfortable.

He shakes his head into your neck, “Wasn't too rough. I'm fine, Mama j-just make me feel better, please,” he whispers, voice hoarse, and soft. One of your hands pet his hair, while the other strokes him off, shushing his cries, and reassuring that he will feel better soon.

You were right of course, the pain of overstimulation died off, and Gojo felt like he was melting. Everything is so warm, so light, he feels like he was on cloud nine. He feels loved, and every loose thought was traced back to you. “Love you s-so much.”

You grin at him, pressing your lips to his. His lips are chapped from his excessive panting, but you don't mind, licking at the plush flesh. He whimpers and groans, his hands pawing at you to pull you impossibly closer. When you pull back, he follows you, letting out a small huff in complaint. You pepper his face with kisses in apology. “Love you too. Such a good boy, Satoru, I'm so lucky to have such a pretty boy.”

He withers under the praise, nodding his head dumbly. He wants to coax so more out of you, but he can't think of ways, so he just rest his head on your chest, and chants, “Mommy” on repeat. 

Your hand is slow in pace, careful to not overwhelm him. It slides up and down easily, his previous cum acting as lube. His cock is bright red, and you almost feel bad for it after pulling so many orgasms from it earlier. You are suprised he is still even awake, sure, he looks and acts exhausted, but by this long he is usually passed out. He must be awake only because he is searching for praise and comfort from earlier. To not find himself in a sub drop.

You catch his eye, and a wobbly smile pulls at his face. You chuckle at him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Whaddya want from me?” He asks, voice cracking in the middle of the sentence.

“Hmm?”

He taps his forehead against yours, hazy blue eyes staring into yours. “Wanna command. Wanna be useful for you.” 

You smile warmly at him and he shivers, leaning up to kiss you again. You hand rubs over his small slit, and he gasps, pausing just centimeteres before you face, and moaning out. 

“You are deep in this, aren't you sweet boy?” You murmur, mostly to your self, slightly astonished. It was one thing for him to ask for praise, and to make decisions for him, but actively seeking instructions from you was another. It was fascinating, and adorable to say the least, how desperately he craved approval, or wanted to feel needed, useful. Nothing how Gojo usually was like.

You thumb at his tip, and he heaves, trying to keep up with your words. But everything you say other than “sweet boy,” seems to tuned out. Everything feels blurry, expect for you face, and your sickenly sweet tone. “D-Don't understand. Please!”

“Okay, shhh, it's alright. I want you to cum for me. Can you cum for Mommy, Satoru? That's all I want you to do.” An easy command, one he can definitely fulfill. He can do that – he can definitely cum for you. Gojo feels his chest bloom with butterflies at the idea of what you'll say to him once he follows your wishes. How much praise he will receive. How good and useful he is being. It makes him shiver with excitement.

Your hand picks up speed when he nods, and he gasps, gripping onto your arms from the suddenness. His hips buck upward into the makeshift hole, and you coo at him, telling him to relax his hips. He abides without question, melting into the sheets, and you give him a kiss for a reward. 

He feels himself begin to teeter along his high, and he glances up at you, eyes wide and slightly panicked. He needs to ask for approval, he has to ask to cum, the rules were basically engrained in him, but everything is spinning, and he's beginning to feel overwhelmed by the intensity of the pressure. He feels his voice go dry, and tears begin to pool in his eyes at the prospect of disappointing you.

You take notice of his fearful face immediately, quickly leaning over to cup his face. “You can cum. Relax, hey, its alright, I want you to cum.”

He breathes a shaky sign of relief, and you wipe his tears away, thinking back to earlier of how you wiped his tears away from the ruthless pleasure/pain mix, and now simply because he was afraid that he wasn't able to ask permission before cumming. You would be lying if the power didnt get to your head.

You thoughts are cut off when Gojos entire body jerks, and a muffled, “Fuck!” is let out. His orgasm hits him like a truck, and he trembles, riding the waves. His voice is too scratchy to let out any real noise, so he just silently cries into your chest. Cum dribbles down his cock pathetically, obviously spent, and not having much left to give. You don't seem to notice it though, instead focusing on your lover, and trying to make his orgasm as pleasurable as possible.

When he comes down from it, his legs are shaking, and his eyes are hooded with exhaustion. “P-Plea–Coconut,” He weakly gets out, and you hands fly off his body in seconds from hearing the safety word. You pull away, hoping to not overwhelm him, but instead he clings to you. “Don’t go. Don’t go. Mommy, I can't. J-Just–I…Praise!” He splutters, coherent thoughts flying out of his head, as he slumps into the bed.

You nod, staying away from his cock, and instead placing his head into your lap. His body curls around you in seconds, still slightly trembling. “Did so well. Good boy Satoru. My good boy, I am so spoiled. So lucky to have you." You coo, reaching your hand up to run it through his matted hair. "Took everything so well. I'm so proud of you." A small smile pulls at his face, and everything feels so warm "I love you so much, you know that?”

“Hm,” He hums, nodding his head slightly.

You smile at him. “My perfect boy. It's time to go to sleep, I'll take care of everything. Just rest for me, that's all I need you to do.”

But he didn't even hear the last of your statements, already passed out onto you, his chest rising and falling from his heavy breathes.

You sigh, and stare affectionately at the man. His naked body littered in marks, and he still managed to sleep contently with them. His body was drained of everything. Just like he asked you to do so hours prior.

Your hands roam the nightstand, grabbing healing cream, bandages, and a wash cloth. And with one last sigh, you place Gojo's head onto the pillow, and begin the long process of cleaning him up.

PREV POST | MASTERLIST | NEXT POST

[elikajinnie]

Mysterious Circumstances - N.R

P: Serial Killer!Ni-ki X FemReader!

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Murder, Corruption, Blood/Injury, Deceit, Obsession, Stalking, Manipulation, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Jealousy, Attempted Murder, everybody say poor jiung.

Synopsis: When you move into a new apartment, your mysterious neighbor Ni-ki catches your attention—but so does a dangerous murderer with an unsettling obsession with you. As your friend Jiung warns you that Ni-ki may be hiding secrets, you're forced to question who you can trust.

Wordcount: 29k

a/n: rewatching dexter morgan now cause why not? anyways enjoy and feel free to leave feedback and reblog <3

--

In this economy, it was nearly impossible to find an affordable place as a student trying to juggle both work and school. But somehow, luck had tipped in your favor, and you managed to land a tiny student apartment. Sure, it was a bit removed from the city center, and the bus route wasn’t always reliable, but it was yours.

Moving day had been chaotic, but a few neighbors were kind enough to offer help as you dragged your furniture and bags inside. Over the next few days, you got to know a handful of them. There was Mrs. Han, an older woman who always had a story to share and a recipe for every occasion, and there were two other students who, like you, often looked like they were running on pure caffeine and sheer willpower.

The only person you hadn’t met was your next-door neighbor. You'd actually thought the apartment beside yours was empty; the place was as quiet as a graveyard, and you'd never heard a single noise from it. It isn’t until Mrs. Han brings you a steaming bowl of her homemade stew that you learn the truth.

“Ah, dear,” she says between sips of the tea you made for her, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You must meet the young man next door! Such a nice fellow, but he’s been away. Family in Japan, you know?”

Her enthusiasm catches you off guard. You chuckle lightly, trying to play it cool. “Sure, sounds nice,” you say, but a hint of curiosity creeps in.

“Oh, he’s so handsome!” she insists, her voice laced with genuine fondness. “You two would make such a lovely couple!”

You pause, your laughter dying in your throat. “Thanks, but I’m not looking for anyone,” you explain, the weight of your recent breakup hanging over you like a dark cloud.

Mrs. Han`s face falls slightly, but her optimism doesn’t waver. “That’s unfortunate... You would have liked him!”

“What’s his name?” you ask, playing along, if only to satisfy your own curiosity.

“Nishimura Ri-ki,” she replies, her smile returning as she savors the sound of his name, as if it were a cherished secret.

You nod, storing that name away for a later moment when you might need it, a faint ember of intrigue igniting within you.

So, you settled in, figuring it’d be a while before you’d have a chance to meet him, if ever.

But one night, as you were deep into your notes, trying to make sense of a mountain of study material, you heard it—the unmistakable click of the door next door opening, then closing softly. Footsteps, light and deliberate, moved across the floor, and you caught the sound of muffled words in Japanese.

There was a rustling, the faint scrape of what sounded like heavy bags being set down, and then silence. After a moment, a new thought clicked into place—your elusive neighbor had finally returned.

Curiosity tugged at you, but you hesitated. It wasn’t as though you could just walk over and knock. He’d likely just gotten back from a long trip and would want to settle in. But as you listened to the familiar sounds of unpacking through the wall, you wondered what he was like. Maybe he'd be just another busy student like you, or maybe… someone you wouldn’t expect.

And one morning, as you’re hurrying down the hall, you finally see him.

He’s standing outside his door, tall—very tall—with dark hair falling into his eyes as he fumbles sleepily with his keys, muttering something under his breath. There's an effortless, almost careless confidence in the way he stands, the kind that draws your attention without even trying. When he finally looks up, his eyes meet yours, and the old woman’s words echo in your head: handsome.

He has a striking face, sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and piercing eyes that seem both focused and detached. His build is slim yet lean, and he’s dressed in a way that’s understated but impossibly stylish. It’s hard not to notice; there’s a refined edge to him that somehow makes the early-morning grogginess look deliberate, like it’s just part of his charm.

At first glance, he seems… intimidating. The intensity in his gaze catches you off guard, and for a moment, you find yourself frozen, unsure if you should look away or say something.

“Ah, you must be the new neighbor,” he says, his voice smooth and warm, carrying a casual friendliness that makes you feel as if you’re talking to someone you’ve known for ages.

You nod, feeling a slight, inevitable awkwardness. “Yeah, that’s me. Nice to finally meet you… Ri-ki, right?”

He grins, nodding. “That’s right. But you can call me Ni-ki—that’s what most people use.”

You offer him your name in return, and he repeats it softly, as if testing it, making sure he gets it just right. There’s a faint trace of an accent in his voice, a subtle lilt that adds to his charm.

“Nice name,” he says, giving you a small, genuine smile. His smiles are understated, almost reserved, yet they have a sincerity that leaves an impression. And just for a second, his gaze lingers on you—curious, almost as if he’s sizing you up. You catch it, but brush it off as nothing.

“If you ever need anything, just knock,” he says, leaning back with a quiet ease. “I’m still getting back into the swing of things here, but I’m around.”

With that, he gives a casual wave and slips into his apartment, leaving you alone in the hallway. You stand there, still feeling the warmth of his voice, and can’t help but wonder if the old lady had been right about him after all.

In the days that followed, you found yourself crossing paths with Ni-ki more frequently, mostly in the early mornings when you were both heading out. There was an ease to these encounters—a nod, a brief exchange of “good mornings,” maybe a small smile from him. He had a quiet way of being friendly, but you noticed a certain mystery to his routine. While you only ever seemed to run into him during the day, at night, you’d often hear the door to his apartment open and close. You figured he had some job with late hours, something that kept him out through the night.

One morning, though, your usual passing-by turned a little strange.

As you were locking your door, Ni-ki appeared down the hallway, carrying a bag slung over one shoulder. He stopped in front of his door, setting the bag down to dig for his keys. Just as he was fishing them out, a roll of duct tape slipped out and rolled across the floor, stopping neatly at your feet.

You crouched down, picking it up, and turned it over in your hand, your eyes meeting his for a brief moment as you handed it back. “You dropped this.”

Ni-ki blinked, then gave you a soft, appreciative smile as he took it from you. “Thanks,” he said, tucking the tape back into his bag without another word, and slipping into his apartment with a nod. You couldn’t quite place it, but the encounter left you feeling slightly unsettled, even if you brushed it off as nothing.

With a sigh, you headed down to the street, making your way to the building’s parking lot. You hated this route, especially at night, with the narrow alleyways and strewn trash. A few small shops lined the way, and there was always a sense of something lingering in the shadows. But it was the only path to the lot, so you resigned yourself to walking it, tightening your grip on your bag.

Halfway there, you paused, catching sight of a familiar sight on the wall outside a laundromat: a collection of missing person posters. You’d noticed them when you first moved in—rows of faces staring back at you, each one accompanied by details of last sightings and worried pleas from family members. It had unsettled you from the beginning, so much so that you avoided coming home too late. And when you did, you always clutched your pepper spray tightly in your bag.

Today, however, something different caught your eye. There was a new poster on the wall, freshly pinned beside the others. The picture was of a young woman, her smile frozen in a snapshot of happier days. Below the photo, it said she had last been seen three days ago, near her home. A chill ran down your spine as you stared at it.

You turned away quickly, heart racing as you hurried towards the parking lot, relief flooding over you as you finally got to your car and locked the doors.

--

It was late afternoon when you returned home from work, your feet aching as you climbed the stairs. Just as you rounded the corner toward your apartment, you spotted one of your neighbors standing in the hallway. He looked a little worn out himself, books and papers spilling out of his bag, but he straightened up and offered a friendly smile when he noticed you approaching.

“Hey! You’re the new neighbor, right?” he asked.

You nodded, and he introduced himself as Jiung, one of the other students who shared the floor with you. You exchanged a few polite comments about school, life in the building, and eventually, you found yourself laughing at his stories about late-night study sessions gone wrong. “Hey, we should study together sometime!” Jiung suggested enthusiastically. “I could use a study buddy to keep me on track.”

You were about to respond when the door to Ni-ki’s apartment opened, and he stepped out, a bag slung over his shoulder. He looked like he was on his way somewhere, but he paused when he saw you and Jiung talking. There was no emotion in his gaze as he glanced at Jiung, who greeted him with a friendly nod. “Hey, Ni-ki! How’s it going?”

Ni-ki gave the briefest nod in response, eyes cool and unreadable. It wasn’t exactly unfriendly, but there was a noticeable distance. However, when you spoke up, greeting him with a casual “Hey, Ni-ki,” his whole demeanor shifted. His gaze softened as it landed on you, and the corners of his mouth curved into a faint smile.

“Hey,” he replied, voice warm, and he seemed to hold your gaze for a beat longer than necessary. “Headed out for a bit,” he added, lifting the strap of his bag as if in explanation. “I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” you replied, catching that small, almost private smile he gave before he turned and headed down the hallway.

Once he was gone, you turned back to Jiung, your curiosity piqued. “What’s he like? Ni-ki, I mean. He seems… quiet.”

Jiung shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, he’s not much of a talker. I’ve seen him around, but he usually keeps to himself. I’m surprised he smiled at you. That’s not something I’ve seen him do.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? He seems nice enough.”

“Nice? Sure,” Jiung chuckled, a hint of disbelief in his tone. “Just… mysterious, I guess.”

You couldn’t help but shrug, your thoughts lingering on the way Ni-ki had looked at you. It was easy to let your mind wander about him, but you shook it off, needing to focus on your own routine.

“Anyway, I should get going,” you said, unlocking your door and stepping inside. “But I’d love to study together soon!”

Jiung waved goodbye, and you kicked off your shoes, letting the familiar comfort of your apartment wash over you. After tossing your bag onto the couch, you headed straight for the bathroom, eager to wash away the day.

After your shower, you were heading to the kitchen to make dinner, the sudden sound of your doorbell caught you off guard. Peeking through the peephole, you spotted Jiung standing in the hallway, looking cheerful and a bit expectant.

Curiosity piqued, you opened the door. “Hey! What’s up?”

“Hey! I was just wondering if you wanted to grab dinner at that little diner down the street,” he offered, his enthusiasm contagious. “I hear their burgers are amazing!”

The idea was tempting, and you found yourself smiling. “Sure! That sounds great.”

Within moments, you were both strolling down the street, the evening air pleasantly cool against your skin. Jiung chatted easily, sharing amusing stories from his day that had you laughing.

Once you settled into a cozy booth at the diner, you couldn’t help but appreciate how at ease Jiung made you feel. As you perused the menu, you turned the conversation toward him. “So, what do you do for work?” you asked, genuinely curious.

His eyes lit up as he leaned back, a grin on his face. “I work in criminology.”

You blinked, taken aback. “Wait, really? I knew you studied crime, but I didn’t realize you had a job in it!”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” he replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “I’m mostly in the back right now, just filling out papers and doing administrative stuff. But with everything going on—the people disappearing—I’ve been able to look into some of the cases.”

You leaned in, intrigued. “What do you think about it? Do you really think they’ll find the people?”

Jiung’s expression shifted, a seriousness replacing the earlier lightheartedness. “Honestly? I think they’ll find most of them in a ditch somewhere… dead,” he said, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

A chill ran down your spine, the earlier comfort now tinged with unease. “That’s… grim,” you said quietly, feeling a knot in your stomach at the thought. “Do you think they’re all connected?”

He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “It’s hard to say. There are definitely patterns in cases like this, but a lot of it just feels random. It’s the uncertainty that gets to you. You never know what’s going to happen next.”

You both fell into a contemplative silence, the diner buzzing around you, the laughter of other patrons fading into the background as the weight of the conversation settled in.

“Let’s change the topic,” you suggested, attempting to lighten the mood. “What’s your favorite kind of burger?”

Jiung’s expression brightened at your attempt to shift the conversation. “Oh, definitely a classic cheeseburger! You can’t go wrong with a juicy patty and melted cheese,” he said, his enthusiasm returning as he leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “How about you? What’s your go-to?”

You laughed, relieved at the change in tone. “Hard to say!”

He nodded “Well we should totally do a burger night sometime, try out different places around here.”

“I’m in! I’ve been wanting to explore more of the area,” you replied, feeling a sense of excitement at the prospect of more outings together.

Just then, the waitress arrived to take your order, and you both made your selections, sharing a few more laughs as Jiung recounted a funny story from his work. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and as your food arrived, you found yourself genuinely enjoying his company.

With each bite of your burger, you felt more at ease. Jiung was a great conversationalist, effortlessly switching from light-hearted jokes to more serious topics, never lingering too long on any one subject.

After finishing your meal, you leaned back in your seat, satisfied. “That was amazing! I’m definitely coming back here,” you said, glancing at Jiung.

“Right? It’s a hidden gem,” he agreed, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “So, what else do you like to do when you’re not buried in schoolwork?”

You took a moment to think, then smiled. “I love camping with friends. It’s a nice break from everything.”

“Camping, huh? That sounds awesome! I haven’t been in ages,” he said, his face lighting up. “I’d love to join you guys sometime if you ever need an extra hand.”

“Absolutely!” you replied.

Eventually, you realized how late it had gotten. With a reluctant sigh, you reached for your phone to check the time. “Wow, we should probably head back. I have class early in the morning,” you said, feeling a slight twinge of disappointment at the thought of the night ending.

“Yeah, I should get back too. I have some work to finish up,” Jiung replied, but there was a hint of reluctance in his voice as well.

When you reached your building, you turned to Jiung with a smile. “Thanks for dinner, Jiung. I had a great time!”

“Me too! We definitely need to do this again,” he replied, his smile wide and genuine.

You waved goodbye to Jiung, the warmth of the evening still buzzing in your chest as you stepped into the building. The comforting familiarity of your apartment awaited you, and you closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment to savor the afterglow of a good night.

After dropping your bag onto the couch, you moved through the small space, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.

As you got ready for bed, your mind wandered back to Jiung’s laughter and the easy way he’d made you feel. You smiled at the thought of him, picturing the way he’d animatedly shared stories, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm.

You brushed your teeth and slipped into your pajamas, the familiar routine comforting you as you settled into bed. As you pulled the covers up, a sense of sleepiness enveloped you, and you closed your eyes, allowing the events of the day to fade into the background.

Meanwhile, just on the other side of the wall, Ni-ki stood silently in his dimly lit bedroom. The faint light of the street lamps outside illuminated the room, casting shadows on the wall that separated him from you. He was staring at that very wall, deep in thought.

Thoughts swirled in his mind, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of how drawn he was to you. The way you’d smiled at him earlier, your laughter echoing even in his thoughts, was intoxicating. There was something about you that felt different—refreshing and genuine. You captivated him in a way that made it hard to focus on anything else, and he found himself wondering what it would be like to truly know you. The longing to have you in his arms for himself coursed through him, an obsession that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

As he stood there, he couldn’t help but realize how you had taken over his every thought since he had returned home. Every little interaction replayed in his mind, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke, the softness in your voice. He felt an urge to be closer to you, to share more than just a wall.

Unable to resist, he walked closer to the wall, his heart pounding in anticipation. At the edge of his room, he crouched down near a small hole, a remnant from when the building had been renovated. It was barely noticeable, easily missed by anyone else. But to him, it was a window into a world he yearned to explore.

Peering through the tiny opening, he felt a rush of emotions as he caught a glimpse of your bedroom. There you were, peacefully sleeping on your bed, the gentle rise and fall of your chest barely visible in the dim light. The sight struck him with an overwhelming sense of want. You looked so serene, completely unaware of his presence, and he felt a strange mix of admiration and longing wash over him.

For a moment, time stood still as he watched you, entranced by the vulnerability of the moment. The shadows danced around your figure, and he wished more than anything to reach out, to bridge the distance that lay between you. But he knew he couldn't—not yet.

As the seconds stretched into minutes, he began to feel his thoughts spiraling, sinking deeper into an obsession that had taken root faster than he’d ever anticipated. He felt restless, his mind racing with a relentless need to be closer to you, to make you truly his. His hands clenched into fists, and he tore his gaze away, feeling the tension pulse within him.

Pushing himself up, he took a steadying breath, trying to clear his mind. He grabbed his bag from the corner of his room, hastily slinging it over his shoulder as he headed for the door. The apartment felt stifling, as though the walls themselves were closing in on him. He needed air, space, somewhere to let his restless energy burn itself out.

As he stepped out into the cool night, the familiar darkness of the alleyways called to him, a place where he could blend into the shadows. He moved through the narrow streets with purpose, the muted sound of his footsteps swallowed by the thick silence of the night. His thoughts continued to circle back to you, and he struggled to shake the hold you had on him, the way you’d invaded his every thought.

The alleys, littered with discarded trash and the occasional flicker of a broken streetlight, felt like a fitting place for the storm brewing inside him. Ni-ki knew he’d have to confront these feelings eventually, to figure out what he wanted from you—or rather, what he was willing to do to have it.

--

The next morning, you woke up and began your usual routine. The sun barely peeked through the blinds, casting soft lines of light across your room as you stretched, pushing away the lingering sleepiness. After washing up and getting dressed, you wandered into the kitchen to start breakfast. You flipped on the TV on the counter, letting the morning news fill the quiet apartment.

But today’s news wasn’t the usual report of traffic and weather.

The screen flashed to a somber-faced anchor as she reported the story. “Breaking news this morning. Authorities have confirmed the discovery of several bodies in the nearby forest—those of individuals reported missing over the past few weeks.”

You froze, the toast forgotten in your hand.

“According to sources,” the anchor continued, her voice steady but grave, “all the victims were found in shallow graves scattered throughout the area. While police are withholding certain details of the investigation, it appears the victims suffered similar injuries before being disposed of.”

The camera cut to aerial shots of a dense, mist-shrouded forest, police cars dotting the dirt paths and officials gathering at the edge of the trees. Crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze, sectioning off parts of the forest where investigators combed the ground. The reporter’s voice droned on, but you barely heard the rest, caught in a mix of shock and unease.

Your mind flashed back to the rows of missing person posters in the alleyway, the faces staring back at you.

The broadcast shifted to interviews with shaken locals, expressing their horror and sorrow. You took a shaky breath and forced yourself to turn away from the TV, hoping to shake off the creeping fear that settled in. It was hard to believe this was happening so close to home—and to think that just last night, you'd felt safe, even happy.

You rubbed at your arms, trying to rid yourself of the unease. Part of you wanted to text Jiung, maybe even ask if he’d heard anything. After all, he’d told you just last night that he was beginning to work on some of the missing person cases. Maybe he’d have some answers… or at least a comforting word. But a new thought hit you, one that made your stomach turn—Jiung’s earlier words echoed back to you, cold and direct: they’ll probably find them in a ditch, dead somewhere.

With an effort, you shook it off, grabbing your bag and heading out, trying to focus on the day ahead.

As you stepped out of your apartment, the hallway felt unusually quiet, almost tense, as if it, too, held its breath in response to the morning's grim news. You glanced down the hall, half-expecting to see a few neighbors gathering, maybe exchanging words about the unsettling report. But it was empty, still, as though the building itself had absorbed the heaviness of what you’d just learned.

Making your way toward the elevator, you felt a pang of nervousness, and just as you were about to press the button, the sound of footsteps caught your attention, echoing from around the corner.

You turned and saw Ni-ki. He looked calm, almost unbothered, his expression as unreadable as ever. A hint of a small smile crept onto his face as he noticed you, his eyes flickering over you in that way that always seemed to linger just a beat too long.

“Morning,” he greeted, his voice low and casual.

“Morning,” you replied, trying to muster a steady smile.

“You okay?” he asked, his gaze a little sharper, as if he could sense something was off.

“Just… heard the news. They found the bodies of some of those missing people,” you said quietly, glancing down.

He nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful, as though he were considering the words carefully. “Yeah. It’s unsettling, isn’t it? This city’s not what it used to be.”

You nodded, a strange feeling settling over you. He was calm, too calm. But then again, maybe he was just better at masking his emotions.

“So, off to work?” he asked, his tone light, almost as if he were changing the subject intentionally.

“Yeah,” you said, feeling relieved to talk about something mundane, something far from the gruesome reality of the news. “I should get going.”

“Be careful out there,” he said, and his gaze lingered on you, that same unreadable intensity in his eyes. There was something in the way he looked at you, something that felt both protective and… something else you couldn’t quite name.

With a small nod, you turned and stepped into the elevator, feeling his gaze on you until the doors closed.

--

That evening, as you lay in bed, the feeling of unease crept back, refusing to let you rest.

You shifted beneath the covers, trying to find a comfortable position. It felt like the city was closing in on you, secrets lurking around every corner, even in your own building.

But finally, as exhaustion took its toll, your eyelids grew heavy, and you drifted off, slipping into a restless sleep.

The room around you blurred into shadows, and your dreams stirred, fragmented images of faces you didn’t recognize flashing across your mind. A faint sense of dread seeped into the dream, mingling with the strange silence of the hallways in your building. In your dream, you were walking down a dim corridor, the walls narrowing, pressing in closer with each step.

And then, somewhere in the distance, you heard a voice, low and almost familiar, calling your name.

You turned, but the hallway stretched endlessly, fading into darkness. You started to walk faster, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling, the sense of being watched creeping over you. Every now and then, you'd glimpse shadows flickering at the edge of your vision, but whenever you looked, there was nothing.

The voice grew closer, a deep, almost soothing tone that sent shivers down your spine. It was calling your name again, soft and persistent, like a lullaby pulling you deeper.

In the stillness, you felt a hand on your shoulder, gentle but firm. You spun around, and suddenly you weren’t in the hallway anymore—you were back in your bedroom, lying in bed, your heart pounding as you blinked at the familiar shadows. It took a moment to convince yourself you were truly awake, that whatever presence had been in your dreams was just that—a dream.

But as you stared up at the ceiling, trying to steady your breathing, you felt a lingering presence, as though someone had just left the room, watching you in silence.

The next day, after a long shift at work, you returned home, grateful to finally relax. Dropping your bag by the door, you slipped into something more comfortable and settled on the couch, absently flicking through channels as you tried to unwind.

You didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you stumbled upon a crime show rerun, its familiar theme music drawing you in. Without thinking, you leaned back, letting the sounds and scenes wash over you, instantly hooked by the storyline. The show delved into a detective's pursuit of a mysterious suspect, each piece of evidence drawing him closer to the truth—and closer to a chilling revelation.

As you watched, you couldn’t help but feel a strange, lingering tension, like the details were tugging at something buried in the back of your mind. Each time the show shifted to a dimly lit crime scene or the detective narrowed in on his suspicions, a shiver ran through you. The storyline was fictional, you reminded yourself, just a cleverly crafted script. But the suspense was so gripping, so real, that you could feel your pulse quicken with each reveal.

The episode built to a tense, nail-biting finale as the detective pieced together the last clues. With each passing moment, it became painfully clear that the killer had always been closer than anyone expected. As the scene unfolded, the detective arrived at a secluded cabin on the outskirts of town, where he confronted his best friend—the very friend who had been beside him through every twist and turn of the investigation. The friend tried to justify himself, a calm expression masking a chilling emptiness as he spoke about why he’d done it, how easy it had been to lie, to manipulate the detective into trusting him completely.

The camera closed in on the detective’s face, his expression a mixture of betrayal and horror. As the final credits rolled, the weight of that last revelation hung in the air, you realized you’d been sitting there with your legs tucked to your chest, entirely wrapped up in the drama. You exhaled, blinking as you pulled yourself back into the present. You got up, turning off the TV and glancing around the room, still feeling a faint tension prickling at the edges of your awareness.

You gave yourself a small shake, trying to laugh it off. It was just a TV show, after all. Nothing to get worked up over.

But as you walked toward your bedroom, preparing for bed, you couldn’t shake the faint echo of the show’s final line: “Sometimes, the people closest to us are the ones hiding the darkest secrets.”

You shivered, the weight of that line lingering with you as you slipped under the covers, feeling a strange, nagging unease as the room darkened around you.

--

The night was quiet, the air thick with an eerie stillness as the woman walked down the empty street. Her voice was soft but cheerful as she spoke on the phone, the distant warmth of her father's voice on the other end keeping her company. She laughed lightly, reassuring him, “I’ll be home soon, don’t worry. Just a few more blocks.”

Her voice echoed faintly down the road, but she didn’t notice the lurking shadows around her or the faint glint of the black van parked just a little too conveniently along her path. She was focused on her conversation, on the comfortable thoughts of home.

As she passed the van, a figure stepped from behind it, tall and cloaked in darkness, their features obscured by the smooth, black surface of a mask. In one swift movement, the figure lunged forward, a blade glinting under the dim streetlights. Before she could scream, the knife plunged into her back, silencing her words with a strangled gasp. Her phone clattered to the ground, her father’s voice calling her name desperately from the other end.

In one fluid motion, the figure hauled her up, opened the van door, and shoved her inside. The door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the still night.

The figure adjusted their mask, scanning the area, making sure no one had seen—only to freeze as they noticed a lone figure, a woman standing a short distance away, eyes wide with shock and horror. She’d seen everything.

The masked figure tilted their head, pointing toward her with a gloved hand. “Oh, hello there, sweetheart” they said, the voice disturbingly calm, almost playful.

The woman’s breath hitched, her hands trembling as she took a step back. She tried to scream, to turn and run, but terror had locked her in place. The figure began to move toward her, each step slow and deliberate, closing the distance in long, measured strides.

A strangled sound escaped her lips, and she finally turned, her feet stumbling over themselves as she bolted down the street, desperate for an escape. But her footsteps were matched, quicker, heavier, the figure gaining on her with chilling ease.

She didn’t make it far before she felt a hand clamp over her shoulder, yanking her back with brutal strength. Her scream was muffled as she was dragged backward, her last sight of the quiet street fading as she was pulled into the waiting darkness.

The next day, news broke of a grisly discovery—a woman’s body found stabbed multiple times in a dark alleyway. The details were still emerging, but there were hints of something more chilling: a second woman reported missing, suspected murdered.

The morning news report broke in as you settled into your seat for lunch at school, your friends gathered around the table, chatting and laughing. But the tone shifted as Ji-wong's voice rose above the clamor.

“Did you guys hear? They found a woman’s body in an alleyway last night,” she said, her face a mix of shock and disbelief. “She was stabbed multiple times. It’s all over the news.”

Your heart sank as you absorbed her words. You glanced at the TV mounted in the cafeteria, the screen flickering with images of the crime scene, police tape strung around the darkened alley, a crowd of reporters clamoring for details. The news anchor’s voice droned on, detailing the discovery.

You could hear your friends exchanging hushed whispers, their voices overlapping in concern and intrigue. “Can you believe it?” one of them exclaimed, shaking their head. “How could something like this happen here?”

Another chimed in, “It’s so scary. We walk these streets all the time!”

You remained quiet, a knot tightening in your stomach as you picked at your food. Your friends continued to discuss theories about the killer, sharing opinions about how to stay safe, but all you could focus on was the weight of the news.

Ji-wong glanced over at you, concern etched on her face. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked gently, sensing your quietness.

You nodded, forcing a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, just… a lot to take in.”

She nodded, but you could see the worry linger in her gaze as the conversation shifted back to the details of the crime, leaving you lost in your thoughts.

After school, you and your friends made your way to Hyerin’s place, arms full of books and bags. Her apartment was warm and welcoming, instantly lifting the tense cloud. The group settled in, books sprawled across the coffee table as you attempted to study, though the conversation soon drifted to lighter topics.

Not long after, someone suggested ordering pizza, and before you knew it, the textbooks were forgotten as laughter filled the room, everyone relaxed and joking around. Between bites of pizza and bursts of laughter, time flew by, the clock on the wall ticking faster than you realized. By the time you glanced at it, it was well past midnight.

A slight unease settled over you as you checked the time again. “I should probably get going soon,” you said, not wanting to admit that the thought of walking home this late made you nervous.

But Hyerin just waved her hand, dismissing your concern. “Don’t worry about it! You can just stay here. We have extra blankets and space on the couch.”

Relieved, you nodded, grateful to avoid the long walk through the dark streets. “Thanks, Hyerin. I really didn’t want to be out after midnight.”

“Of course!” she said brightly. “I wouldn’t want to walk out there either. And besides, it’s more fun with you here.”

--

Ni-ki stared through the small hole, his gaze tracing over your empty room, irritation bubbling under his calm exterior. You weren’t home. The thought gnawed at him, and he found himself pacing across his apartment, restless. He glanced at the clock on the wall, each passing second heightening his frustration until he muttered a low curse, grabbing his bag before stepping out.

He paused outside your door, jaw clenched as he stared at it, mind racing. Just then, he heard footsteps, and when he looked up, Jiung was locking his own door. “Hey,” Jiung said casually, but Ni-ki's mind was racing with questions.

“Where’s Y/N?” Ni-ki asked, trying to keep his tone neutral, though he could feel the tension coiling inside him.

“Oh, she’s with a friend,” Jiung replied, shrugging as he continued on his way.

A spark of anger ignited in Ni-ki’s chest. Why did Jiung know where you were? Why did he have that information when Ni-ki did not? But he masked his irritation with indifference, taking a steadying breath, his expression smoothing into cold neutrality as he watched Jiung’s back disappear through the door. He waited a moment, then slipped out of the building behind him, falling into step at a distance.

The night air was crisp, brushing against his skin as he moved silently, slipping on a mask to cover the lower half of his face, fingers grazing the blade concealed in his bag. He kept his steps light, trailing Jiung with a practiced patience, biding his time.

But then, his gaze shifted to a young man walking toward them, absorbed in his phone, completely unaware of his surroundings. Ni-ki paused, the choice lingering between them like an invitation. His eyes followed Jiung, now gaining distance, then flicked back to the man much closer, oblivious, vulnerable.

With a silent groan, he made his decision. He turned from Jiung and closed in on the young man, steps quickening, his grip on the blade tightening. He moved like a shadow, swift and silent, until he was right behind him. In a single, precise motion, his blade flashing in the dim light before the man's gasp was choked into a sickening gurgle, the sound of struggle dwindling into silence.

Ni-ki let the body slump to the ground, sparing a glance over his shoulder to ensure no one had seen. Jiung had already disappeared down the road, blissfully unaware of the fate that had played out in his wake. With one last look at the lifeless figure, Ni-ki wiped his blade, pocketed it, and slipped back into the night.

--

The next day, you returned from Hyerin’s place, still a bit groggy from the late night. But as you neared your building, something felt… wrong. A few police cars were parked on the street, their lights flashing in silent urgency. You blinked, unsure if it was exhaustion playing tricks on you, but the closer you got, the more the scene came into focus.

A section of the street near the entrance was cordoned off with yellow police tape, and a small group of officers clustered around the area, deep in discussion. Your steps slowed as you took in the scene, eyes widening with a growing sense of dread.

Just then, two officers noticed you and made their way over. “Excuse me,” one of them said, glancing down at his notebook before looking back at you. “Do you live in this building?”

You swallowed, feeling suddenly very aware of the tension in the air. “Yes,” you replied, nodding.

The officer’s expression was calm but serious. “Have you noticed anything unusual or suspicious lately?”

You shook your head slowly, feeling a strange weight settle in your chest. “No, I… I was out with a friend last night, actually. I just got back.”

The other officer exchanged a glance with his partner before saying, “If you do happen to notice anything, please report it right away. Safety’s a priority right now.”

Your stomach twisted as a flash of concern crossed your face. “Can I… ask what happened?”

The first officer sighed, nodding slightly as he spoke, “A young man’s body was found nearby early this morning. We’re still investigating, but if you hear or see anything, let us know.”

You nodded, processing his words in silence as you managed a quick goodbye, leaving the officers behind. Your thoughts were a mix of shock and unease as you continued toward your apartment.

By the time you closed the door behind you, your mind was still reeling from what you’d heard. A young man, here?

--

You sat curled up on the couch, the glow of the TV casting dim shadows across the room as you continued with the latest episode of the crime show.

Just as the plot thickened, your doorbell rang. Reluctantly, you tore your attention away, padding over to the door. Peeking through the peephole, you saw Jiung standing there, looking a bit nervous. You opened the door with a curious smile.

“Hey, Jiung. What’s up?” you asked, noticing his slight hesitation as he shifted from foot to foot.

He took a breath and then, in a slightly rushed tone, asked, “Would you… maybe want to go out with me sometime? Like… on a date?”

Surprised, you paused, caught off guard. After a moment’s thought, you gave him a small smile. “I’ll think about it, Jiung.”

His face lit up, and he nodded quickly. “Great! I’ll, uh, let you think it over.” He flashed you a happy grin before heading down the hallway, glancing back once with a wave as he disappeared around the corner.

You closed the door and went back to the couch, feeling a bit dazed from the unexpected moment. But just as you settled down, another knock echoed through the room. With a sigh, you got up again, peering through the peephole. This time, it was Ni-ki.

You opened the door, offering him a polite smile. “Hey, Ni-ki.”

“Hey,” he greeted with a quiet smile of his own, holding up an empty container. “Do you have any salt? I’m all out.”

“Sure, come on in,” you said, motioning for him to step inside. You made your way to the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets for the salt shaker.

Ni-ki’s eyes wandered over to the TV screen, and when you came back to hand him the salt, he glanced over at you with interest. “You watch this show too?” he asked, his tone holding a hint of excitement. “It’s one of my favorites.”

Your eyes lit up, a smile forming as you looked at him. “Really? I just started watching it recently.”

He nodded, his eyes returning to the screen. “Yeah, I’ve been following it since the start. It really keeps you on edge.”

Before you realized it, you were both seated on the couch, completely immersed in the show. The storyline unfolded, and the detective chased after his best friend—the killer—through a dark, shadowed warehouse. Each twist and turn of the chase drew you both in, leaning closer as the suspense built.

It wasn’t until the episode ended that you noticed how comfortable the room had become, Ni-ki looked at you, his usual reserve softened.

“That was… intense,” you said, breaking the silence.

Ni-ki’s eyes lingered on you, a quiet glint in his gaze. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice softer than usual. “But it’s always better watching with someone who’s just as into it.”

Eventually, sleepless night caught up with you, and your eyelids grew heavy. As you fought to stay awake, your head slowly tilted, finally coming to rest on Ni-ki’s shoulder. You let out a soft sigh, and the tension in your body eased as sleep washed over you.

Ni-ki stilled, watching you as you drifted off, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Gently, he shifted so you were more comfortable against him, his arm wrapping subtly around you to hold you steady. He stayed like that for a long moment, his gaze lingering on your peaceful expression, feeling your warmth beside him.

When he was sure you were fully asleep, his hand moved slowly, almost hesitantly, to brush against your cheek, tracing a light line along the edge of your jaw with the tip of his finger. The dim light cast soft shadows across your face, and he watched, entranced, as his fingertip moved along your skin.

He leaned in, his face mere inches from yours, his breath warm and steady as he stayed close, hovering. His gaze flickered to your slightly parted lips, and for a second, his own breath hitched. The air was thick with an unspoken closeness, and he held that position, suspended between a lingering ache and restraint.

Carefully, he leaned back, settling you more comfortably against him, his hand resting softly on your shoulder as he continued to watch over you, his fingers curling protectively around you.

Ni-ki’s gaze darkened as he continued to watch you, his fingers resting softly on your shoulder. His eyes traced the gentle curve of your neck, and an almost imperceptible smile crossed his lips. He leaned in, his breath warm against your skin as he murmured softly, almost to himself, “Red would look good on you.”

His fingers slid up, tracing the line of your neck. His grip tightened ever so slightly, lingering just enough to feel your pulse under his fingertips, steady and unknowing. He let out a slow breath, as if grounding himself, as his thumb brushed softly against the side of your throat.

For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, caught between something intense and something careful, like he was savoring this quiet moment he had with you. After a second, his fingers relaxed, trailing back down your shoulder in a gentle motion, his gaze softening. He drew in a slow breath and finally leaned back, keeping you close but releasing the subtle tension in his touch.

He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have you truly his, for you to look up at him with trust, completely unaware of the thoughts running through his mind. For now, though, he was content to simply stay by your side, holding you in the quiet of the night.

Ni-ki rose slowly, careful not to disturb you as he scooped you up in his arms. You stirred, blinking sleepily as he carried you toward the bedroom, but he gently hushed you, his voice soft and reassuring. "Shh… just sleep." You let out a quiet hum, drifting back into sleep as he placed you on the bed, pulling the blanket over you.

Once you were settled, he crouched beside the bed, his gaze intense as he took you in, his arms resting on the mattress as he leaned closer. Slowly, his hand reached out, thumb brushing gently over your bottom lip, tracing its softness, almost reverent. He caught himself lingering, letting his fingers ghost across your cheek, as if memorizing every line and curve of your face.

With you here, looking so serene, he could almost pretend to feel peace, like a balm against the darkness that usually gripped him. There was something about you—something that stilled the turbulence in his mind, turning the razor-edged thoughts of violence into something softer, more possessive. Yet, deep down, he knew: if you ever found out who he truly was, you would recoil, flee, maybe even scream. The thought unsettled him. And he couldn’t allow it.

But that was fine, he decided, his hand lingering on your cheek. You would be his. No matter what it took, he would find a way to make you understand, to make you stay, even if he had to teach you how to love him. If it came to that, he could handle it. He would mold you to be his, through your resistance, your fear—until all that was left was the love he craved from you.

Leaning forward, he whispered, almost to himself, "You'll come to love me… just wait."

Ni-ki stood for a long moment at your bedside, watching as you slept, peaceful and unaware of the thoughts circling in his mind. Finally, he straightened, brushing his fingers over the blanket one last time before he slipped out of the room. Quietly, he closed the door behind him, sealing you safely inside as he moved toward his own room.

Once there, he pulled a black bag from beneath his bed, checking its contents with practiced ease. With a final look around, he slung it over his shoulder and left the apartment, locking the door behind him. Outside, the air was cool, and the streets were veiled in a soft hush of night, faintly lit by scattered streetlights.

He walked with a steady stride, blending into the shadows as if they welcomed him. His mind was calm, sharp, each step carrying him forward with a chilling sense of purpose. There was nothing to fear out here. No shadows lurking around corners or dangers in the quiet alleys.

Why would he worry?

--

Days passed, and you started noticing that Jiung seemed increasingly interested in following up on his offer for a date. Every time you ran into him, he would smile a bit wider, his eyes hopeful as he casually asked if you’d made up your mind. His persistence was endearing, and yet… your answer was still unsure, hovering in your mind.

Meanwhile, your time with Ni-ki only grew, filling the quiet corners of your routine with an unexpected ease. He was becoming a fixture in your days, almost as though he’d always been there. You’d find him at your door some evenings, asking if he could join you for whatever crime show you were watching, his attention firmly on you as the plot unraveled on the screen.

He rarely shared much about himself, but you didn’t mind. It felt natural, sitting side by side, sometimes letting your head rest on his shoulder as you got lost in the suspense. Occasionally, he would make small comments on the case, his voice low, adding details you hadn’t noticed.

Then there were the times you’d spend in his apartment, which felt equally familiar now. You’d find yourself leaning over his shoulder, challenging him in games as he let out a soft laugh, relaxed and genuinely happy.

Laughter filled Ni-ki’s room as you clutched the game controller, triumphantly beating him for the third time in a row. Ni-ki groaned, his face caught between frustration and amusement as he asked, “How do you keep winning? Seriously!”

You shrugged, smirking as you teased, “Maybe you’re just not as good as you think.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not one to take the defeat so easily, and before you knew it, he lunged at you in a playful attack. His hands found your sides, mercilessly tickling you as you shrieked, squirming to escape his grip.

“Ni-ki—stop!” you managed between laughs, trying to push him off, but he only grinned, enjoying his victory as he held you down on the bed. Your laughter eventually softened, leaving a warm silence between you as the two of you lay there, his face hovering close to yours.

His breathing slowed, and as he gazed at you, the teasing glint in his eyes softened into something deeper. You could feel your heartbeat quicken as his gaze drifted down to your lips, and without a word, you found yourself leaning into the moment, mirroring his movement.

Slowly, his lips met yours, gentle and cautious at first, as though testing the connection. But the kiss quickly grew deeper, more intense, stealing the air from your lungs as you returned it, feeling a sense of warmth and closeness you hadn’t expected. For a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fall away.

To Ni-ki, this was both heaven and torment. Having you so close, feeling the softness of your lips against his—it was everything he’d wanted and yet, in some ways, so agonizingly out of reach. He ached for more, for all of you, yet held himself back, savoring every second with a longing that made his heart pound.

The kiss lingered, soft yet fervent, as if neither of you wanted to pull away. When you finally did, it was only because you both needed to catch your breath, your faces still close, foreheads nearly touching as you shared a quiet smile.

Ni-ki’s hand brushed along your cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles as he looked at you, a warmth in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. The tension between you was thick, yet comfortable, like something long-awaited that had finally fallen into place.

“Didn’t expect that, did you?” he murmured, his voice a soft tease, though you could hear the tremor of excitement there.

You shook your head, a bit breathless, your own heart still racing. “No… but I’m not complaining.”

His lips curled into a smile. “Good.”

Without waiting, Ni-ki leaned in, closing the small gap between you once more. His lips met yours with a deeper, more assured warmth, as if he was savoring each second, each soft touch.

This kiss was different—more intense, more deliberate, and you found yourself melting into him, your arms slipping around his neck to pull him closer. He responded eagerly, his hand moving to rest on your waist, holding you against him as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

Just as the kiss deepened, your phone buzzed, cutting through the perfect moment. Reluctantly, you pulled back, a bit breathless, and glanced at the screen. It was your boss.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you whispered, and Ni-ki nodded, though you noticed a faint flicker of annoyance in his eyes.

Answering the call, you heard your boss’s familiar voice sounding slightly frantic. “Hey, sorry to call last minute, but we’re understaffed tonight. Any chance you could come in for a bit?”

You hesitated, ready to turn him down, but then he added, “I’ll pay double for the overtime.”

You bit your lip, considering it. Rent was due soon, and you were already running a little behind. “Alright,” you finally said with a sigh. “I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

Ending the call, you looked at Ni-ki apologetically. “I have to go to work… They’re understaffed.”

He shrugged, though you sensed the tension just beneath his relaxed expression. “No worries. We’ll pick this up another time.”

With a quick goodbye, you grabbed your bag, left the apartment, and hurried down the stairs, thinking about the night ahead. You didn’t see the way Ni-ki’s expression hardened the moment you were gone, his eyes narrowing at the door, simmering with anger at the interruption.

Your shift stretched far longer than expected, the minutes slipping by until hours had passed. By the time you finally finished work, the streets were dark, only dim streetlights casting long shadows over the quiet city. Your fingers clenched tightly around your keys, each small noise setting your nerves on edge. As you walked past a dark alleyway, a faint, agonized moan caught your attention. You paused, heart pounding as you peered into the murky darkness. Shadows seemed to shift against the brick walls, making you question if your mind was simply playing tricks.

Then, abruptly, a shoe flew out of the darkness and landed at your feet. The pale glow of the nearby streetlight barely illuminated it, but it was unmistakably there, lying askew on the cold pavement. You froze, glancing around, but the street was empty. No one else was around.

Taking a steadying breath, you stepped into the alley, clutching your keys with knuckles white. As you walked past the shoe, each step carried you deeper into the shadows, your breath shallow with dread. Just a few paces in, you saw it.

There, sprawled across the grimy ground, lay Jiung, his skin pale, eyes half-lidded with pain. Blood soaked his shirt, dark and spreading from multiple stab wounds across his abdomen. His breaths came in shallow, desperate gasps.

“Jiung…” you whispered, dropping to your knees beside him, voice shaking with panic as you scrambled to pull out your phone. You pressed one hand against his wounds, trying to staunch the bleeding, feeling the warmth of his blood seeping through your fingers.

“I’ll call for help,” you assured him, barely holding back tears as you dialed for an ambulance with a trembling hand.

But then, a chilling sensation ran down your spine. You felt the weight of a presence behind you, like ice settling in your veins. Slowly, you looked over your shoulder—and saw a tall shadow standing at the entrance to the alleyway. The streetlight behind them cast their face into darkness, but there was something menacing in their stance, the way they loomed over you and Jiung.

In a flash of movement, Jiung pushed himself up with a guttural scream, lunging toward the figure despite his injuries. “Run!” he cried, voice raspy with desperation as he collided with the attacker, buying you precious seconds to escape.

Heart hammering, you didn’t waste a moment. You turned and sprinted out of the alley, Jiung’s shout echoing in your ears. You didn’t dare look back, but the pounding of footsteps behind you pushed you faster as you bolted down the street, breath catching in your throat.

“Help!” you screamed, hoping, praying someone would hear. But the quiet streets remained desolate, and all you could do was keep running as the footsteps behind you grew closer, each one filling you with a terror you’d never known before.

The sound of heavy footsteps grew louder, and before you could take another step, a gloved hand shot out from behind you, silencing your scream as another arm snaked around your torso, pinning your arms to your sides. Panic surged through you, and you squirmed, trying to break free, but his grip was iron, unyielding.

Then you felt the cold press of a knife’s edge against your throat, sharp and threatening, making your breath hitch as fear flooded your veins.

"Where are you running off to in such a hurry, doll?" deep, gravelly voice purred in your ear. The words sent a shiver of fear racing down your spine. His breath was hot against your skin as he held you impossibly close, his grip tightening.

You froze, every nerve paralyzed in his grip as he kept you close, his body pressing against yours to ensure you couldn’t break away. The gloved hand over your mouth stifled any sound, leaving you helpless, trapped in his grasp.

"That's it," he continued, his voice almost a whisper but laced with malice, "be a good girl and don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

You held your breath, every muscle tensed, but he only chuckled, his tone shifting to something almost playful, his lips inches from your ear. “You know… you could’ve ignored it, kept on walking home like a smart little thing.” He tilted his head, sounding almost regretful, though the teasing edge to his words betrayed his satisfaction. “But no, you just had to be the hero. Couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

He let out a soft, taunting hum, as though savoring the moment. “Admit it,” he said, his tone slipping into something disturbingly flirty, almost tender. "You liked the thrill, didn’t you? The danger of getting a little too close…”

Your mind raced, desperately searching for some way to escape, but his grip tightened, pressing the blade just a fraction closer, enough to remind you how easily he could hurt you.

Summoning every ounce of courage, you jerked your head back, surprising him for an instant as you managed to shift just enough for your foot to slam down on his. He grunted, his hold loosening slightly, and you seized the opportunity, twisting out of his grasp as you stumbled forward, barely managing to break free.

With adrenaline surging, you started to run again, praying you could get far enough before he caught up once more.

Your heart raced as you stumbled onto the open street, glancing back to see the shadowy figure still gaining on you. But just as hope seemed to fade, you spotted two police officers rounding a corner up ahead. Relief surged through you, and you screamed, “Help! He’s right behind me!”

Hearing the desperation in your voice, both officers turned immediately. At the sight of them, your pursuer halted, cursed under his breath, and bolted in the opposite direction. One officer shot a quick look your way before sprinting down the street after him, while the other rushed to your side, her eyes filled with concern as she gently placed a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” she reassured, keeping her voice calm. “Take deep breaths for me, alright? Tell me what happened.”

Gasping for air, you struggled to relay what had occurred. “There’s… there’s a victim in the alleyway,” you managed between breaths. “He’s hurt badly… please, he needs help.”

The officer’s expression turned grim as she quickly radioed the situation, calling for another police unit and an ambulance to head to the location immediately. She stayed with you, grounding you as you both waited, her presence steady and comforting.

Moments later, her radio crackled to life, and a voice came through. “We’ve located the victim. Ambulance is on the way—he’s alive. Repeat, the victim is alive and en route to the hospital.”

A wave of relief washed over you at the news. Jiung was still alive. The weight of it hit you, and a smile of sheer gratitude flickered on your face, even as exhaustion threatened to pull you under.

Not long after, the other officer returned, breathing heavily, a frustrated look on his face. “I lost him,” he admitted, shaking his head. “He knew these streets too well… slipped into a maze of alleys. But we’ll catch him.”

The officer looked at you with a soft, reassuring gaze. “Would you be willing to come down to the station and give a witness report?”

You nodded, feeling a sense of duty but also the weight of the night’s events. They guided you into the police cruiser, and the short drive to the station was filled with a comforting silence. Once there, you filled out the report, recounting every detail you could remember. When it was over, the officer who had helped you before offered to drive you home.

You thanked her sincerely as you stepped out of the car in front of your building, exhaustion tugging at every limb. “Thank you… for everything,” you said, meeting her kind gaze.

“No need to thank me; just take care of yourself. Call if you remember anything else.”

You nodded, feeling the night’s intensity fade as you finally stepped into the familiar, quiet space of your apartment. You took a deep breath and pulled out your phone, sending Jiung a message, asking him to let you know as soon as he was well enough to reply.

After a hot shower, you felt slightly more grounded. You sat on the couch, flipping through channels until a horror movie caught your eye. Something about the way the killer on-screen moved in relentless pursuit of his victim made your pulse quicken. You’d just been in a scene like this, and yet… as you watched the screen, a dark thrill crept into your thoughts.

You shifted uncomfortably as the killer on-screen cornered his next victim, remembering what it felt like to be hunted down, to feel the darkness creeping in, to hear that voice whispering things you hadn’t wanted to admit. The words echoed in your mind—“Admit it. You like this. You like the fear.” You shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away, but it was like they had a grip on you now. You couldn’t help but admit that there was something unsettlingly captivating about the chase, about the fear.

You tried to push the unsettling thoughts away—tried to focus on the killer on the screen, how methodical and cold they were, but the feeling of being hunted, being chased, was all too real. The way the killer's footsteps echoed in the victim’s ears, how their every breath seemed to be more desperate, more frantic—the adrenaline that had coursed through you earlier in the night crept back up, making your pulse quicken.

Your eyes slowly drifted to the door. The thought of being alone here, in the dark, made your heart race. You wrapped your arms around your knees, pulling them tightly to your chest.

Suddenly, the phone buzzed in your pocket, snapping you out of your trance. You pulled it out quickly, half-expecting the worst, but it was just a message from Jiung.

“I’m okay. I made it through surgery, just need some rest. Thanks for being there tonight. I owe you one.”

A flood of relief rushed over you, and a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You typed back quickly, “I’m glad you’re okay. Take care of yourself. I’m here if you need anything.” It wasn’t much, but it felt like the right thing to say.

You dropped your phone beside you on the couch, and the movie continued to play in the background, but now you couldn’t stop thinking about the killer—the way they moved with such confidence, with such control. You wondered if you had been a part of some twisted game, a part of something you couldn’t even begin to understand.

You rubbed your eyes, feeling exhaustion from the long day, but the unease wouldn’t let go. Maybe you didn’t need to be scared. Maybe it was just a nightmare that you’d wake up from. But deep down, you knew that something about tonight had changed you. It wasn’t just the danger, but the feeling of the chase, the adrenaline, and the way you couldn’t help but wonder if you'd somehow enjoyed it.

The thought made you shiver, but there was no denying it. And in that moment, as you sat there, you couldn’t help but think—maybe you’d never be the same again.

The familiar sound of Ni-ki’s door opening caused a shiver to run down your spine. It was a noise you’d come to recognize, and as soon as you heard it, your body stiffened, a strange feeling pulling at your chest. You couldn’t explain it, but it was as if something in you needed him, needed to feel his presence.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was just the nerves from the night still lingering, but then you felt that push—an overwhelming urge to reach out. Without fully thinking it through, you grabbed your phone and sent a quick message to him: "Can you come over?"

The ping came almost instantly from next door, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your heartbeat, loud in your ears. Then, it fell quiet again.

You stared at your screen, watching the message go from "Sent" to "Read." Your heart beat a little faster, your pulse quickening in anticipation.

Then the sound of footsteps. Heavy and deliberate. You watched the time, and in the span of a few seconds, Ni-ki's door opened, then closed softly. You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for what was about to happen.

There were two sharp knocks on your door, and your stomach fluttered.

You opened it quickly, not wanting to second-guess yourself. The moment the door cracked, you rushed forward, pulling him into a tight hug. His warmth and the familiar scent of him enveloped you, and you couldn’t help but hold on a little tighter than you meant to.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low but filled with concern.

His body was solid against yours, his warmth comforting in the wake of everything that had happened. But after a few moments, his hands gently cupped your shoulders, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes scanning your face with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

“What happened?” he asked softly, his voice low, the tenderness in his words making your heart ache a little.

You didn’t answer immediately, not wanting to let go of him just yet. You squeezed your eyes shut and clung to him for a little longer, trying to steady yourself. When you finally opened your eyes, you pulled away just enough to hold him at arm’s length, feeling that strange mix of relief and uncertainty washing over you. You could feel the flutter of anxiety in your stomach, but you knew you had to say something.

"Can we sit down?" you asked, your voice soft and almost pleading, your fingers still gripping his shirt tightly. You could feel your pulse pounding in your ears, the lingering fear from earlier making it difficult to fully focus on anything other than the sound of your own heartbeat.

Without a word, Ni-ki nodded and allowed you to lead him to the couch. As you both sat down, you could feel him sitting closer than usual, his presence a constant comfort, but his eyes were still searching your face. It made you feel exposed, like there was something about you he could see, something you were trying to hide.

You turned to face him, the weight of everything rushing back now that you had a moment to think. “There was... there was someone in the alley. I—" you stammered, suddenly feeling the weight of the night’s events pushing down on you. You took a deep breath, gathering your words. "I found Jiung... he was... he was stabbed. And then..." Your voice broke for a second as you swallowed hard, the image of Jiung on the ground, bleeding, still so fresh in your mind.

Ni-ki’s eyes didn’t leave you, and his gaze softened, his hand reaching out instinctively to touch yours. His thumb gently traced your knuckles, the touch grounding you. He didn’t interrupt you, just silently waiting for you to finish, allowing you to speak in your own time.

"And then I—" You felt yourself faltering, but you pushed through. "I heard him. The person. He... he came after me." The memory of his grip, the way he whispered to you, the coldness of the blade against your throat, made your chest tighten. You shuddered involuntarily, your hands tightening around Ni-ki’s.

“But then the police came. They helped me. And Jiung... he’s alive.” Your voice shook with relief, but there was still something raw in your tone. “But I couldn’t shake it, Ni-ki. I keep thinking about it, feeling like he’s still out there.”

Ni-ki’s jaw tightened as he listened, his eyes focused on you with an intensity that made you feel both comforted and exposed. He didn’t speak for a moment, just leaned closer, his face softening. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said quietly.

You nodded slowly, trying to shake the images of the night from your mind. You had always found it hard to be vulnerable, but with Ni-ki, it was easier to just let go of the walls.

“Thank you for coming,” you murmured, looking up at him. "I... I needed someone. And I didn’t know who else to call."

Ni-ki smiled, though it was laced with something deeper—something you couldn’t quite place. His hand gently squeezed yours. “I’ll be here as long as you want me to be.”

His words melted some of the tension still lingering in your chest, and for a brief moment, you felt like you could breathe easier. You leaned back into the couch, your body relaxing just a fraction, but you didn’t let go of his hand.

You picked up the remote from the side table and hit play on the movie you’d paused earlier. The flickering of the TV screen and the eerie music of the horror film filled the silence, but it didn’t feel as suffocating now that Ni-ki was here with you.

As the movie played on, the tension in the room grew, thickening with every chase scene. You could feel your body reacting even before the first footstep of the pursuer echoed across the screen. Your eyes narrowed in, focused entirely on the characters as the camera swiveled between the running victim and the shadowed killer. Every time the chase escalated, your breath would hitch, your shoulders tightening with the anticipation of what was to come next.

When the killer finally caught up to the victim, you couldn’t help but shiver. The chase scenes felt too real, too close to what you had experienced just hours ago. The grip of the knife, the feeling of running, your breath coming faster as you tried to escape—it all flooded back in an instant, and your body involuntarily tensed. You clenched your fists in your lap, trying to steady yourself as the screen flickered with flashes of horror.

Unbeknownst to you, Ni-ki was watching intently, his eyes trained on your every reaction. He could see how your breath quickened, how your body stiffened with each passing moment, how the fear from the movie bled into your own memories. The way your hands trembled slightly, the way you seemed to draw closer to him when the killer gained on the victim.

His gaze deepened with satisfaction. He could see how easily the thrill of the chase consumed you. How, despite the terror, there was something almost addictive about it—the danger, the vulnerability, the adrenaline. And it stirred something inside of him, a dark thought that he couldn’t ignore.

He watched you carefully, a small, pleased smile tugging at the corner of his lips as you flinched at every tense moment. He knew this feeling—he could feel it, too. The hunt, the chase, the thrill of bringing someone to the edge of fear. You’d experienced it in the alley, running from him, and now, you were reliving it through the film. But he could tell there was more to you than just fear. You liked it. You liked the adrenaline.

Ni-ki’s hand slowly shifted towards you, resting just near your knee, not touching yet, but close enough to sense your tension. His thumb twitched, as if he could feel the currents of your unease, of your suppressed excitement. He knew you weren’t just scared. You were drawn to it, to the rush of being pursued, to the danger.

He was sure of it now—he could make you understand. He could shape you, mold you to match his world. All he had to do was push you far enough, make you see the thrill the way he did. He’d show you how to embrace it, how to live for the chase, to revel in the fear, to become a part of it—just like him.

And no one would stand in his way.

Not Jiung. Not anyone.

He’d take care of the loose ends soon enough, with that same meticulous care. Just as he had with so many others. But you—you—would be his masterpiece. He would make sure of it.

His fingers brushed lightly against your leg, just enough to make you flinch, but not enough to pull you out of the movie. And as the next chase scene unfolded on the screen, Ni-ki smiled to himself, savoring the moment.

He could tell you were deep in your thoughts, processing the fear, but also something else—something beneath the surface. You were on edge, yet you didn’t pull away. You were still here, still sitting with him. That pleased him more than you could know.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening as he took in the way you gripped the couch, the way your body tensed with every dramatic moment. He noticed the little things—how you took a sharp breath when the victim almost got caught, how your eyes widened in brief anticipation, but you didn’t look away.

“You okay?” Ni-ki asked casually, breaking the silence, his voice soft yet filled with a certain curiosity. His tone seemed almost too casual for what he was observing, but it made you snap back to reality.

You nodded quickly, forcing a small, reassuring smile, though the flicker of unease still danced in your eyes. “Yeah, just… wasn’t expecting a movie like this.”

He chuckled, a low sound, and leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. “I get it,” he said, the words carrying a gentle teasing quality. “But you seem to be handling it well.”

You looked over at him, unsure of what he meant, but his eyes were fixed on the screen now, and you couldn't quite read his expression.

"Thanks for staying," you said quietly, the words slipping out before you could think to stop them.

“Of course," he replied, glancing at you briefly, his smile soft. "I’m not going anywhere.”

By the time the movie ended, the adrenaline had faded, and the room felt quieter, and you found yourself leaning back into the couch, your body finally starting to relax.

Ni-ki turned to you, his expression unreadable but his presence still comforting. “Feel better?”

You nodded, your smile small but genuine. “Yeah, I do. Thanks for being here."

He gave a small nod, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he looked away. "Anytime," he said softly, the words hanging in the air between you.

--

The sunlight filtered softly through the blinds as you slowly awoke, groggily blinking as you tried to get your bearings. The familiar warmth of the couch wrapped around you, but as your eyes adjusted, you realized that the person who had kept you company the night before—Ni-ki—was no longer beside you. The spot on the couch where he’d been was empty, and the space next to you felt cold in comparison.

You groaned, sitting up and stretching. You must've dozed off again after the movie had ended. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep until you woke up now, all tangled in the blanket.

Shaking off the remnants of sleep, you stood up, ran through your usual morning routine, and gathered your things. You quickly dressed, brushed your hair, and splashed some water on your face to wake yourself up more fully. There was a lot to do today.

After grabbing a quick bite, you made your way to the hospital. Jiung had been transferred there after the attack, and you were eager to see how he was doing. As soon as you entered his room, you saw him sitting up in bed, looking far better than you expected after the ordeal.

He smiled weakly when he saw you, though there was still a tinge of pain in his eyes. “Hey, you came. I’m so glad to see you.”

You smiled back, your heart lightening at the sight of him doing so much better. “Of course, Jiung. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he replied, shifting to make himself more comfortable. “The doctors said I’ll be fine to go home in a couple of days. Just need to rest a bit more.”

“That’s great news,” you said, relieved. You sat down beside his bed, glad to see he was recovering well.

Jiung paused, looking at you with an almost hesitant expression. “Hey, I was thinking… once I’m out of here, maybe we could go grab a coffee or something? I know you are still thinking.”

You hesitated, glancing down at your hands for a moment. It was clear that Jiung had more than just friendship in mind, and you didn’t want to hurt him. But you also needed to be honest with him.

“Jiung…” you started softly, meeting his eyes. “I think you’re great, but I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I see you as a friend. I’m actually interested in someone else.”

His face softened, but there was a hint of disappointment in his eyes. He gave a small nod, though, his smile never quite fading. “I understand. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a girlfriend.”

You gave him a gentle smile in return, feeling a pang of guilt, but also relief at having been honest with him. “Thank you for understanding, Jiung. You’re a really good person, and I’m glad we’re friends.”

“I’m glad we’re friends, too,” he said, his voice steady despite the slight sadness in it. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will. And you get better, alright?” you replied, giving him a small wave as you stood up to leave.

After your visit, you made your way to work, your thoughts still lingering on the conversation with Jiung. As much as it had been the right thing to do, it didn’t make it any easier. You focused on your tasks at work, trying to push the lingering thoughts aside and focus on the tasks at hand. It was a long shift, but at least it gave you a break from the emotional weight of everything that had happened lately.

The evening had crept up on you faster than you expected. The time spent with your friends at the mall was a welcome distraction, but as the sky darkened, the familiar unease from earlier in the week began to creep back. You said your goodbyes, as they headed in different directions, and made your way to your car, feeling the weight of the day on your shoulders.

You climbed into your car, started the engine, and drove home, your mind preoccupied. The streets were relatively quiet, the rush of the city settling down as night enveloped everything in shadows. A part of you felt relieved to be heading back to your apartment, but another part felt uneasy. The events of the past few days—the attack on Jiung, the strange tension with Ni-ki—lingered in your thoughts, gnawing at the back of your mind.

Once you parked your car and grabbed your shopping bag from the back seat, you stepped out, pulling the door shut with a soft click. The air was crisp, a cool breeze brushing against your face as you locked the car and started walking toward your apartment. The familiar sounds of the street felt oddly distant, almost muffled by the growing darkness.

Your senses felt more alert than usual, and you quickened your pace, the soft click of your shoes against the pavement echoing in the quiet evening. Something about tonight felt off, the air thick with an unspoken tension that you couldn’t quite place. Every shadow seemed to stretch longer, every flicker of movement felt like a warning.

You glanced over your shoulder, but the street behind you remained empty. Still, the unease gnawed at you.

Maybe it’s nothing, you thought to yourself, trying to shake off the feeling, but it didn’t help. You picked up your pace again, hands clutching your shopping bag a little tighter. The streetlights above flickered intermittently, casting long shadows across the pavement.

As you neared your apartment building, you paused for just a second, glancing up at your door. Everything appeared normal, yet the feeling of being watched was inescapable. You exhaled slowly, trying to calm your racing heart, and told yourself it was just your mind playing tricks.

But then you heard something.

A sound behind you. A shuffle of footsteps.

Your head snapped around, but the street was still empty. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you stood there for a moment, frozen in place. The wind rustled the leaves nearby, but that was the only noise in the air.

You couldn’t shake the feeling of being followed.

Just get inside, you urged yourself, turning back toward the door of your building. You fumbled with your keys, your fingers cold and unsteady as you slid the key into the lock. The sound of footsteps drew closer, and just as you pushed the door open, a voice, low and unfamiliar, echoed from behind you.

“You’re not alone tonight.”

Your heart stopped. The hairs on your neck prickled with fear.

Before you could turn around, a gloved hand rested against the door, pushing it slightly back into its frame, and you were pulled backward.

The moment you were pulled into the alleyway, the cold grip of fear clamped down on your chest. You were yanked roughly, stumbling over your own feet, and before you could even think to scream, a gloved hand pressed tightly over your mouth, stifling any sound. The sharp edge of a knife was placed at your throat, just enough to make you feel the cold metal against your skin, but not yet enough to break it.

"You're lucky I let you live after you interfered last time," the man muttered, his voice low and cold, as if every word was carefully measured. "But… I guess I’ll forgive you. After all, it’s not your fault you got in the way. Just another mistake. But don’t worry, I’ll finish what I started."

He pressed the knife a little harder into your side, making you wince, and his voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "You won’t stop me this time."

Your eyes darted to the alley’s entrance, and you tried to struggle against his grip, but his hand on your mouth only tightened, and the blade felt like it could pierce your skin with the slightest movement. Panic surged through you, but before you could react further, you heard something.

Footsteps. The faint sound of boots hitting pavement.

You froze.

The man must have heard it too, because his voice turned sharp, a warning whisper. "Stay quiet," he hissed. "If you make a sound, I’ll finish it right here."

Your breath caught in your throat as three police officers walked into view, their figures passing by the alley’s opening. The sounds of their conversation blended with the quiet night, but they didn’t seem to notice the two of you hidden in the shadows.

Your heart hammered in your chest as they came closer, their uniforms barely visible in the low light, the soft murmur of their voices floating into the alley. You dared not move a muscle, barely able to breathe, as you felt the pressure of the knife against your side.

The man’s grip on you tightened, forcing you to stand still, and you could feel the pulse of fear racing through your veins. Your eyes stayed locked on the officers, willing them to see you, to help, but they kept walking past without a second glance. Their conversation faded, and just like that, they were gone, leaving nothing but silence behind.

The man’s grip on you was relentless, pressing you deeper into the shadows. But in that brief, fleeting moment, you found your opening.

His hold slackened just enough, his focus momentarily distracted by the fading sound of the officers’ footsteps. His attention turned slightly to make sure they had truly gone, just long enough for you to summon the courage to move.

With a burst of adrenaline, you jerked your body to the side, slipping out of his grasp. Your heart pounded in your ears as you darted forward, legs propelling you as fast as they could carry you. The alley seemed to stretch endlessly in front of you, and with every step, the fear that gripped your chest pushed you further, faster.

You didn’t look back—couldn’t afford to—but you heard the sound of his footsteps pounding behind you, growing louder. He was coming after you. His breath was ragged, but there was no mercy in his pursuit, only the promise of violence. The sound of his pursuit echoed down the narrow alley, each step closer to your heels making your breath come quicker, your legs feel weaker.

You turned a corner, hoping to lose him, but the streets around you were eerily empty, void of the people you so desperately needed. The streetlights flickered weakly, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly, making you feel as though the darkness was swallowing you whole.

There was no one. No one to help you. No one to witness your struggle.

You tried to scream, but your voice was caught in your throat, choking on your fear. Every alley you passed was as desolate as the last, every street devoid of life. The city seemed to hold its breath as you ran, its silence mocking your desperate escape.

Your legs burned, your lungs screamed for air, but you didn’t dare stop. If you did, he would catch you. And the thought of what he would do made your skin crawl, your heart race even faster.

But then, you heard it. His footsteps were louder now, more insistent. He was gaining on you. The realization hit you like a wave—you weren’t going to outrun him.

Desperation set in as you searched for any place to hide, any escape, but the streets stretched on endlessly, the buildings looming on either side like dark sentinels. The only sound that filled the air was your frantic breathing and the thudding of your own heartbeat.

You had to think. You had to survive.

You pushed yourself harder, heart hammering in your chest as you darted through another narrow alley. Desperation clawed at your throat, but somehow, you found an abandoned dumpster in the corner of the alley, its shadow deep and offering a small sliver of cover.

With trembling hands, you crouched behind it, pulling your legs close to your chest, trying to quiet your frantic breathing. You held your breath, praying that he wouldn’t hear you or see you. The night felt suffocating, the dark streets now your only allies.

You pressed yourself against the cold, gritty wall of the alley, the rough surface scraping your skin as you slowly peeked out, just enough to see him.

The man was standing a few feet away, his head shifting left and right, scanning the area. He was looking for you—searching for you, and every passing moment felt like an eternity. The way he moved, his body tense, the way his eyes narrowed behind the mask, told you that he was intent on finding you.

He was tall, lean, and wore a baggy jacket with the hood pulled low over his head, casting his features in shadow. His jeans hung loosely around his waist, the fabric almost swallowing his legs. A mask covered his mouth, hiding his expression, but you could see the sharpness of his eyes, cold and calculating as they swept over the alley.

You held your breath again, not daring to move a muscle. The air felt thick, and the sound of his footsteps seemed impossibly loud as he stepped closer to where you were hiding. You could hear him muttering under his breath, a low, almost inaudible grumble of frustration as he searched. He was so close now, standing right in the spot where you had just been moments before.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you forced yourself to stay still, not even daring to blink. If you moved, if he saw you… you didn’t want to think about what would happen. The fear that gripped your throat made it hard to breathe, but you didn’t dare exhale too loudly.

The man stepped closer again, his body tensing, clearly aware that you were near. You could see the muscles in his arms flexing beneath the fabric of his jacket, his hands twitching near the knife in his pocket. His breathing was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the hunt.

You swallowed hard, your entire body on edge. It felt like the world had stopped, the only thing in motion was him, his every movement calculated, methodical.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he stepped back, his head turning as if he had sensed something—or maybe it was just the cold night playing tricks on him. His eyes scanned the surrounding area once more, and for a moment, you thought he might give up.

You knew, the moment you moved, he would be on you. You just had to wait, to let him think he’d missed you. Just a little longer, just enough time for you to figure out your next move.

You waited, heart racing, every muscle in your body tensed, when the man who had been stalking you suddenly vanished into the shadows. The air felt thick with suspense, the silence almost deafening as you kept your eyes trained on the dark alleyway, afraid to make a move just yet.

It wasn’t until several minutes later that you finally saw why he’d left. A tall, broad-shouldered man appeared at the mouth of the alleyway, his gait confident and purposeful. You recognized him instantly—the owner of the laundromat a few blocks over. His muscular build and rough demeanor made him hard to miss. He was the type who could take care of himself, the type you’d want by your side if trouble were brewing. He strolled past the alley, seemingly unaware of the danger that had been lurking just moments before.

Taking the opportunity, you slowly began to step out of your hiding place, keeping your movements as quiet and fluid as possible. With the laundromat owner walking ahead, you kept a few steps behind him, grateful for the presence of someone who seemed safe, someone who might be the buffer between you and whatever danger had been stalking you just minutes before.

As you walked, you couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of being watched, that prickling sensation creeping up your spine. Your eyes darted over your shoulder, searching the dark streets. But there was no one. Still, the unsettling feeling lingered like a shadow that wouldn’t let go.

You turned back around and quickened your pace, staying close to the laundromat owner. The walk back to your apartment felt like it took forever. Every turn, every creak in the distance, made your heart pound faster. You refused to look back again, forcing yourself to focus on getting to the safety of your apartment.

The moment you reached your building, you breathed a sigh of relief. The door to the apartment building seemed like a small fortress in that moment. You glanced once more over your shoulder—nothing. But the nagging sensation that something, someone, was still watching you refused to let go.

You hurried up the stairs to your apartment, not bothering to check the other floors, not caring who might be around. Your only priority was getting inside, locking the door, and sealing yourself off from whatever it was that was chasing you—whether it was the man in the alley or the dark thoughts you tried to push away.

As you entered your apartment, you locked the door behind you, breathing heavily. You walked to your room, closing the door with a soft click, and pressed your back against it for a moment. Your hands were trembling as you looked around your room.

But even in the safety of your room, the adrenaline still buzzed in your veins. The fear hadn’t fully dissipated, but something else had settled into the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t just fear anymore—it was an unsettling sense of anticipation. A craving that you couldn’t name, a feeling that made your skin tingle and your breath quicken, not from fear this time, but something else. Something darker.

The feeling grew, gnawing at you from the inside. You pushed it down, told yourself to focus, to get some sleep, to let go of the rush. But deep inside, you knew what it was.

It was the thrill. The addiction to it. The way your body had reacted to the chase, the near escape, the uncertainty of what might happen next.

You shook your head, trying to clear the thoughts, telling yourself to stop. It was a dangerous game to play with such thoughts. But in the back of your mind, a voice whispered that you would never be able to stop craving it.

That night, as you lay in your bed, the exhaustion from the long day weighed heavily on your body. The adrenaline from the events earlier had faded, leaving behind a deep, aching tiredness. You pulled the blanket up to your chin, closed your eyes, and let yourself drift into sleep, unaware of the quiet presence watching you.

Just beyond the wall of your room, in the shadows, Ni-ki stood silently, his eyes fixated on the small hole in the wall that gave him an unobstructed view into your room.

He smiled, a dark, satisfied smile. You had no idea how close he was, no idea how much he had watched you tonight, how every move you made—every step you took—had been carefully observed. Even the small crack in the wall had become an entryway for him to see you, to observe you without you knowing. To see you in your most vulnerable state—sleeping, unaware of the danger just beyond your reach.

His fingers traced the edge of the hole, a slow, deliberate movement as he drank in the sight of you. He admired the way you shifted in your sleep, how your body instinctively curled up for warmth, how your lips parted slightly in a soft breath. He knew you didn’t fully understand the danger, didn’t fully comprehend the way he had been keeping watch over you, but that would change.

You had something inside you. Something that made you crave the chaos, the rush, the thrill of danger. He could see it now. He could feel it in the way your body reacted, in the subtle ways you would flinch at the chase scenes on the TV, in the way your heart raced when you were close to danger. You liked it, didn't you? The feeling of being hunted, the rush of barely escaping.

And that was where he had to be patient. He would guide you. Mold you. Shape you into someone who wouldn’t just run from him. No, you’d be by his side, not as a victim, but as someone who wanted to walk this dangerous path with him. It would take time, but he was willing to wait.

As you slept, Ni-ki’s gaze never left you, his heart thumping in quiet anticipation. It wasn’t just the thrill he enjoyed now. It was you.

You had no idea how impressive you were, how far you'd come in such a short amount of time. The way you escaped from his grasp earlier—it had caught him off guard, in a way. The determination in you, the fight, the way you pushed through the fear. It was something he admired, even if you didn’t fully realize the extent of it.

When you managed to slip away from him, when you outwitted him for those few seconds, it ignited something within him. He was impressed—not many could do that. Not many could slip through his fingers like that, especially when he was so close. It wasn't just the thrill of the chase anymore; it was the way you handled it. You were more than just a victim to him now. You were becoming something else—something he wanted more than anything.

The rush he felt watching you run, the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, was addicting. You had that same fire, that same dangerous allure that kept pulling him back in. Your fear, your resistance, even your attempts at fighting back, had only made him more intrigued, more obsessed.

It was clear now—you were no longer just a victim for him to hunt. You were a challenge. A beautiful, unpredictable challenge. And he loved every moment of it.

His fingers grazed the wall as he leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing with focus. You had nearly escaped him, but in doing so, you’d only stoked the flames of his desire to catch you even more. You were strong, quick, and clever. But more than that, you were unpredictable, and that made you more enticing than any victim he had ever encountered.

He could already picture it—the next time you faced him, the next time you ran, the next time you resisted. He’d be ready for it. And this time, he wouldn’t let you go. Not until you fully understood the game.

With a slow, deliberate breath, he pulled himself away from the wall, slipping quietly out of the shadows, his mind already whirring with plans. He would let you think you had control for now, let you think you were escaping him. But soon enough, he’d pull you back in, closer than ever before.

Ni-ki knew the thrill wasn’t just in the chase anymore. The real excitement would come when you finally stopped running—when you embraced the darkness he offered, when you no longer resisted him. That was when he’d truly have you. And when that time came, you would understand. You would want it too.

But for now, he would let you breathe. He would let you think you were free, even though, deep down, you already belonged to him. The pull would only get stronger.

And when you woke in the morning, when you faced the world again, he would be right there, ready to take the next step in bringing you closer to him. Because this wasn’t just about chasing you anymore—it was about claiming you, piece by piece.

He turned away from the wall and quietly left, leaving the hole behind, but his mind was already set on the next move.

Soon enough, you would be his.

--

You had just opened your door, heading out for class, when you froze in your tracks. The road ahead of you was blocked. Someone had left a shopping bag on the ground right in your path, unmistakably familiar. Your breath caught in your throat as you took a step closer, recognizing the bag immediately.

It was the same one you had dropped during your frantic run from the killer, the one you had barely managed to grab before fleeing for your life. How could it possibly be here?

Your heart raced in your chest, and your hands trembled as you reached down to pick it up. As you did, a cold shiver ran down your spine. The weight of it was just as it had been before, and when you peered inside, you saw everything you’d bought from the mall—a few pieces of clothing, makeup, and the lipstick you’d picked out without much thought.

But there was something else, something more unnerving—there was a note. It was attached to the lipstick. You slowly pulled it out, and the moment your eyes fell on the words, your stomach dropped.

“You forgot your bag, doll. I thought I’d return it to you. I’d love to see this shade on your lips next time we meet.”

The words were simple, but the implications were enough to send a chill down your spine. It felt like the note had been written just for you, as if he knew where you’d be, as if he was keeping track of you.

You glanced around the hallway, but there was no sign of anyone, no figure lurking in the shadows. You were completely alone. Still, the presence of that note, the familiarity of his words, left you feeling exposed, vulnerable. He was closer than you realized. He was always watching.

You quickly stuffed the note back into the bag, clutching it tightly as your heart hammered in your chest. But even as you turned to leave, a sinking feeling gnawed at the back of your mind, knowing that every time you tried to move forward, something—someone—was always just one step behind you.

--

Over the next few days, your life seemed to settle into a new rhythm. You spent more time with Ni-ki, and each moment felt different from anything you had experienced before. His presence was comforting, a sense of protection lingering whenever he was near. It wasn’t just the way he would quietly stand watch over you when you were vulnerable, but the subtle ways he made sure you felt safe.

As much as you tried to shake off the unsettling memories of that night, Ni-ki's company made you feel… reassured. The small crush you had once harbored for him began to grow. His calm demeanor, the way he carried himself with confidence, and the way he seemed to understand everything without saying much—it made him irresistible. It was so easy to let your guard down when he was around, even if a small part of you still questioned things you couldn’t quite understand.

Then Jiung came back from the hospital.

The moment he stepped into your apartment, there was an odd tension in the air. He’d been through a lot, and he looked exhausted, but there was something else in his eyes—something darker, a sharpness you hadn’t noticed before. He wasn’t the same since the attack, and maybe it was the trauma or just his protective nature, but when he saw Ni-ki, his demeanor shifted. He greeted you with a tired smile, but his gaze lingered on Ni-ki longer than it should’ve.

You could sense something was off. He seemed distant, colder, and even though he was happy to see you, his eyes kept flicking to Ni-ki, narrowing as if trying to make sense of something.

Later, as you and Jiung were talking, he dropped a bombshell.

“Have you noticed anything strange about him?” Jiung asked, his voice low, guarded.

“Who?” you asked, slightly confused.

“Ni-ki,” he answered, his eyes not meeting yours but focused on the spot where Ni-ki had been sitting earlier. “I’ve been doing some thinking… about all those murders. The ones that happened around the same time he showed up… It’s too much of a coincidence. And the way he’s always around, watching you—something’s off.”

You laughed softly, trying to ease the tension. “Jiung, you’re being paranoid. Ni-ki’s harmless.”

But Jiung didn’t seem convinced. “I’m serious. You’ve been around him a lot, right? Think about it. His timing, his habits… don’t you think it’s strange?”

You shook your head, brushing off the unease creeping into your chest. “You’re crazy. Ni-ki would never hurt anyone. He’s been nothing but nice to me, Jiung. You’re just imagining things.”

Jiung clenched his fists, frustration evident on his face. “I’m not imagining anything! You need to be careful. He’s dangerous. I’m telling you.”

You met his gaze with an exasperated sigh. “I know you’re worried, but Ni-ki isn’t who you think he is. He’s not the bad guy here.” You stood up, trying to change the subject. “Anyway, I’m sure you’re just tired from everything that happened at the hospital. Maybe you should rest.”

Jiung stared at you for a long moment, searching your face for any sign of doubt. But there was none. Finally, he shook his head, as if giving up on convincing you. “I hope you’re right,” he muttered, but the suspicion still lingered in his eyes.

The rest of the conversation was awkward. Despite your assurances, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Jiung’s words had planted a seed of doubt, but you quickly silenced it. Ni-ki had always been kind to you. He was always there when you needed him. He wasn’t dangerous.

Right?

But as the days passed, and you spent more time with Ni-ki, you began to notice small things that didn’t sit right. There were moments when you would catch him looking at you a little too intently, or when his smile would slip into something darker when you weren’t paying attention. The tension from Jiung’s warning kept gnawing at the back of your mind, but each time you saw Ni-ki’s face—calm, patient, understanding—you pushed it aside.

Jiung had to be wrong. He was just being paranoid.

Still, something inside you felt like it was teetering on the edge of something you couldn’t quite grasp.

A few days later, Jiung showed up at your door again. This time, he was holding a manila folder, and the look on his face was grave.

You didn’t want to invite him in, but he didn’t give you much of a choice. As he pushed the door open, you stepped back, arms crossed defensively.

“I’ve got more to show you,” Jiung said, a mix of urgency and frustration in his voice.

“Jiung, I told you already, I don’t want to talk about this,” you said, trying to shut down the conversation before it even started.

But he was insistent, handing you the folder. “Look at this. You need to see it.”

Reluctantly, you opened the folder, your heart racing as you flipped through the papers. They were mostly copies of reports from the police and CCTV footage, but one image caught your eye: it was a grainy shot of Ni-ki walking alone through the streets at night. The image was taken from a security camera, and it was timestamped around the time of one of the murders.

“Jiung, this is just footage of him walking down the street,” you muttered, trying to brush it off.

But Jiung wasn’t backing down. He pointed to another image, a close-up shot of Ni-ki entering a small shop—a shop you knew he worked at. “This is him going to work, isn’t it? You know it is,” Jiung said, his voice tight with tension. “This is where the pattern starts. He’s always around. Always at the right place at the right time.”

You stared at the photo, your mind spinning. You didn’t want to admit it, but the timing was too coincidental. But still, something about it didn’t sit right with you. Ni-ki had always been kind, gentle, and… well, he was your friend. You had to believe that.

“Jiung, please,” you said, your voice pleading. “This isn’t enough. It’s just… it’s a coincidence, okay? Ni-ki is a good guy. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Jiung’s face hardened. “You’re just ignoring the facts. I’m telling you, you’re in danger. He’s been involved in every single one of these murders, and you’ve been around him. You need to stay away from him before it’s too late.”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling up. “I’ve had enough of this, Jiung. You need to leave.”

You didn’t give him a chance to argue, firmly holding out the folder with the papers he had given you. “Take your stuff and go.”

Jiung looked at you one last time, eyes filled with a mix of hurt and frustration. “I’m just trying to protect you, you know,” he muttered before taking the folder from your hand and walking out the door.

Once he was gone, you locked it behind him, letting out a long sigh of relief. You couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling in your stomach, though, the small part of you that wondered if maybe Jiung had been right. But then you thought of Ni-ki—his smile, the way he always looked out for you, the way he’d been there for you time and time again.

No. You couldn’t believe it. Ni-ki wasn’t capable of what Jiung accused him of.

You couldn’t let yourself doubt him.

--

You were curled up on the couch with Ni-ki, the soft glow of the TV lighting up the dark room as you both watched a movie. The atmosphere was comfortable, the kind of quiet warmth that made you feel safe with him.

But then, the sound of your doorbell broke the calm.

You groaned, irritated that the moment was being interrupted. As you stood up and made your way to the door, Ni-ki didn't even glance away from the screen, still lounging back on the couch. You opened the door, not expecting much, only to find Jiung standing there. His presence instantly put you on edge.

"Jiung? What are you—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Jiung’s eyes immediately darted past you to the living room, locking onto Ni-ki. There was a brief moment of silence, and you could practically feel the tension building in the air. His discomfort was palpable, his body stiff as he shifted uneasily on his feet.

“I was wondering if you had any more information on the murder,” Jiung asked, his tone direct but strained. “Anything else you might have forgotten to tell the police? Some small detail that could help?”

You blinked in confusion, then sighed. You were so tired of this. The suspicion, the constant questioning—it felt like a weight you couldn’t escape. You could see the doubt in his eyes, and it stung.

“Jiung, I already told you everything,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm but firm.

He didn’t look convinced, his gaze flickering to Ni-ki again, lingering a little too long. Ni-ki, for his part, seemed unaffected, his expression unreadable.

"Well, if you remember anything else—" Jiung started, but you cut him off.

“Look, I really need to go to the bathroom,” you said, your patience wearing thin. “I’ll be back in a minute. Can you just... wait here?”

Jiung nodded, though you could see the worry in his eyes as he glanced at Ni-ki one last time.

You didn’t want to deal with this right now, and as you made your way toward the bathroom, you hoped that maybe Jiung would leave. But just as you reached the door, you heard it. A loud crash, followed by shouts, then the sound of things scattering across the floor.

Your heart skipped a beat. You rushed back toward the living room, and your stomach dropped when you saw what was happening. Ni-ki and Jiung were on the floor, tangled together in a mess of flailing limbs. They were shouting at each other, the aggression in their voices unmistakable.

“Jiung, what the hell—” you gasped.

The two of them were a mess—clothes half-ripped, hair disheveled, and faces already starting to show the marks of their struggle. Ni-ki’s grip on Jiung’s shirt was unforgiving, his knuckles white with the intensity of his hold, while Jiung pushed back with all his might, trying to break free.

The coffee table had been knocked over in the chaos, and your bowl of popcorn lay shattered across the floor, the pieces scattered like a reminder of how quickly things had gone wrong.

“Ni-ki is the killer! Don’t you see it?!” Jiung shouted, his voice hoarse and frantic as he tried to land a punch, but Ni-ki dodged it easily. His voice rang with panic, eyes wide as he looked at you. “You’re protecting him! You don’t know who he is!”

You felt the words cut through you like a knife, your heart pounding in your chest as the truth of what Jiung was accusing sank in. Was it possible? Was Ni-ki really the killer? The one responsible for everything? Your mind raced, but every part of you resisted the thought. You knew Ni-ki—he couldn’t be.

But Jiung’s anger and fear were real. His accusations filled the room like a thick, oppressive fog.

Ni-ki’s expression remained cold, unflinching, despite the heat of the fight. His face was a mask of controlled rage as he twisted Jiung’s shirt tighter. “You don’t know anything,” he growled, his voice low and menacing. “You’re just trying to get a rise out of her.”

Jiung tried to break free, his breath ragged. “You think I’m lying? You think I’m crazy? I saw the patterns, I saw the way he’s always there, after dark. You think that’s a coincidence?!” He shoved Ni-ki with all his strength, causing the two of them to stumble. “You can’t hide it anymore. You’ll slip up, and when you do—”

Ni-ki cut him off, his grip tightening as he shoved Jiung into the wall with a brutal force. “I’m done with you,” he snarled, his voice filled with a chilling finality. “You’ve said your piece. Now, get the hell out of my sight.”

Jiung’s face twisted with frustration as he took in the damage around him—the overturned coffee table, the popcorn on the floor. He seemed to come to a realization then, one you couldn’t quite place, and he stared at Ni-ki one last time with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“You’re the monster,” Jiung spat, his voice trembling. “And she’ll see it too. She’ll figure it out eventually.”

Jiung opened the door, his hands trembling as he stepped out, casting one last glance at you before leaving, his figure disappearing into the hallway.

The room felt unnaturally still after he was gone. The only sounds were your breathing and the faint hum of the air conditioner.

Ni-ki, still standing where Jiung had left him, slowly relaxed his stance, though the tension in his body remained. He took a step back, as if finally realizing how close to the edge things had been. His eyes locked onto you, the intensity of his gaze making your heart skip a beat. But this time, there was something else there, something deeper—something you couldn’t quite understand.

“You don’t believe him, do you?” Ni-ki asked, his voice softer now, almost too calm.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your mind was a whirlwind, caught between what you had just witnessed and the person you thought you knew.

“He’s just trying to scare you,” Ni-ki continued, taking a step closer to you, his expression unreadable. “You know me better than that. I’d never hurt you. You have to know that.”

But you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in your chest. The questions, the doubts, they had been creeping in for weeks, ever since you first met him. Every time you thought you could trust him completely, something dark—something off—seemed to follow in his wake.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your racing thoughts. “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

Ni-ki didn’t respond immediately, just standing there, his eyes never leaving yours, watching you as if waiting for something. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the way it seemed to see straight through you.

But then, his lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. “You don’t have to think about it right now,” he said softly.

The words sent a shiver down your spine, but you didn’t know why. You didn’t know what to do with the tangled mess of emotions swirling inside you.

The days following Jiung’s visit felt like an eternity. You couldn’t shake the weight of his accusations or the image of Ni-ki and Jiung fighting, each man standing for something so different.

You started to keep Ni-ki at arm's length, your interactions with him becoming more guarded. You’d still spend time together, but there was a distance now—something unsaid that hung in the air between you, a barrier that wasn’t there before.

Ni-ki noticed. His usual calm demeanor faltered, just for a moment, whenever you hesitated to answer his calls or avoided his gaze for too long. But he didn’t press it. Not directly. Instead, he continued to show up, his presence always just a step away from being too much, and yet you let him in. Every time. Maybe it was the loneliness, or the need for something familiar, something you could hold onto.

One evening, you opened the door to find him standing there, the familiar tilt of his head and that quiet smile of his. He was calm, as always, but there was something in his eyes—something searching. He didn’t have to say anything to make you feel it.

“You’re avoiding me,” he said quietly, stepping into the apartment without waiting for you to invite him in.

You couldn’t bring yourself to lie. “I don’t know what to think anymore,” you admitted, your voice low. “I’m confused.”

Ni-ki closed the door behind him with a soft click and turned to face you, his eyes unwavering. “I understand,” he said, his tone almost too understanding. “But you’ve got to trust me. I haven’t done anything wrong. You know me better than anyone else.”

You wanted to believe him. You really did. But Jiung’s accusations, the evidence he showed you… it made it harder.

“Ni-ki, I…” You faltered, your words feeling heavy in your chest. “I don’t know who to trust.”

He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours, the space between you shrinking with each word. “You can trust me,” he said, his voice softer, almost coaxing. “I know it’s hard to see through all the confusion, but I swear to you, I’m innocent. I would never hurt you.”

You took a step back, your mind fighting with your heart. Your body told you to believe him, to let go of the doubt. But the fear still lingered, a shadow at the edge of your thoughts.

“You have to understand, what Jiung said… It’s all just paranoia,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting, like a whisper meant to calm the storm inside you. “He doesn’t understand me the way you do. You know me. You know who I am.” His hand reached out, fingers brushing gently along your arm. "You know that I would never hurt you. I’d never hurt anyone you care about."

You shook your head slightly, still conflicted, but his touch made it hard to focus. “But Jiung…” you started, your voice faltering.

“He’s crazy,” Ni-ki interrupted, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes before it softened again, replaced by that unwavering calm. "He’s got a wild imagination. He's pushing all these ideas in your head. Don’t listen to him. You’re smart. You know what feels right.” He took another step closer, his hand moving to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You feel it too, don’t you? The connection between us? The way I protect you, the way I look out for you? There’s nothing wrong with that.”

You swallowed hard, his words sinking deeper into your mind, like a slow poison—soft and insidious. The memory of Jiung’s accusations felt distant now, buried beneath the weight of Ni-ki’s soothing tone. "But... what if he was right?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, the fear creeping in again.

Ni-ki gave you a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He cupped your chin gently, lifting it, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Jiung doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s just scared. Of me, of what he can’t have But you, you’re not scared, are you?” His voice dropped even lower, intimate and coaxing. “You know I would never hurt you. Why would I? I care about you. I would do anything for you.”

You hesitated, the conflicting emotions a jumbled mess in your mind. Ni-ki continued, his fingers sliding from your chin to the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer. “You’re safe with me. You’ve always been safe with me. Jiung doesn’t want to see that. But you do. You trust me, right?”

You nodded, despite the knot in your stomach, the small voice of doubt still lingering in the back of your mind. It felt easier to trust him in this moment. He was right there, offering you comfort, offering you understanding. Everything about him seemed so sure, so calm, as though the whole world was just a puzzle he’d already figured out.

“You’ll see,” Ni-ki whispered, brushing his lips lightly against your forehead, “once Jiung’s out of the picture, you won’t have to worry about anything. We can be happy. Together.”

Before you could say anything else, Ni-ki lifted your chin, tilting your head back slightly. His breath was warm on your skin as he leaned in, and for a moment, you froze, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. But then, before you could stop yourself, he kissed you.

His lips were soft, almost tentative at first, as if waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t. You didn’t pull away. Instead, your arms found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. Ni-ki responded immediately, his hand moving from your chin to the back of your neck, his grip possessive but gentle.

His other hand slid around your waist, pulling your body against his, the heat of his touch igniting something inside you that you had tried to ignore. The kiss was intense, consuming—everything you had been pushing down rising to the surface.

He backed you towards the wall, his body pressing against yours, and you could feel the tension between you both, the energy swirling in the space around you. You kissed him back, feeling the surge of desire you hadn’t realized was building up inside you.

In that moment, everything else faded away—the doubt, the fear, the confusion. All that mattered was the way he held you, the way he kissed you, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing in the world.

Ni-ki’s lips lingered for just a moment longer before he pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your face. His gaze softened as he looked down at you, his hands gently resting on your shoulders, his thumbs brushing in small circles.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice low, full of awe. “I don’t know if you realize it, but you really are.” His eyes searched yours, intense and filled with something that felt almost too deep to understand, yet you couldn’t help but drown in it. “You’re perfect. Everything about you, your smile, the way you think… It’s everything I could ever want.”

You stood there, your heart beating faster, warmth blooming in your chest. No one had ever spoken to you like that before, with such intensity, such devotion. It was intoxicating.

“You make me feel like I’m the luckiest person in the world,” he continued, his lips curling into a smile, almost possessive in its warmth. “I love everything about you.” His voice dropped lower, more intimate. “I love how you trust me. How you’re mine.”

His words wrapped around you like silk, each compliment sinking deeper into your chest, making you feel cherished, wanted in a way that left you breathless. It was like he had tapped into something inside you, something you didn’t even know was there.

“You make me feel like nothing else matters,” he murmured, his hand sliding up to gently hold your cheek. “I need you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

You felt a soft smile tug at the corner of your lips, your heart swelling with something that almost felt too big for your chest. For a moment, you almost forgot about everything else—about the doubts, the warnings, the nagging feeling that there was something off. It didn’t matter. Because in that moment, Ni-ki was the center of your world.

And the way he looked at you, so tender, so fixated, made you believe that you were the only one who could make him feel this way.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ll always love you. No one else, just you.”

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the emotion that swelled in your chest. You didn’t question it.

Because in that moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was him. And the love he gave you. The kind of love that wrapped around you like chains, making you feel like you were everything to him.

You didn’t need to know that it wasn’t the healthy kind of love. The kind of love that makes you feel safe, seen, and valued. No, this was the kind of love that thrived on obsession, on want, The kind of love that turned into possession, into something dangerous.

But you didn’t need to know that. Not yet.

--

The cool evening air wrapped around you as you walked down the dimly lit street, the soft hum of the city’s late-night life barely audible. Your fingers danced across your phone’s screen, sending a quick text to Ni-ki. You smiled at the thought of him, your chest warm with the affection you’d come to associate with him in these past few days. It had been a week since any news of the killer had surfaced in the area, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you allowed yourself to feel a little at ease.

The street was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant sound of cars passing.

But the moment you raised your eyes from your phone, something shifted in the air.

The silence seemed heavier now, thick with something you couldn’t quite place. Your heartbeat quickened, and despite your attempts to ignore it, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You slowed your pace, scanning the quiet street, looking for any sign of movement, but saw nothing. Nothing that seemed out of place.

Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you. You had ignored it before, the anxiety bubbling up every now and then, but tonight… tonight, it felt different.

You kept walking, fingers tightening around your phone, clutching it like a lifeline. You tried to push the thought out of your mind, convincing yourself it was nothing, just the remnants of your paranoia, but your instincts were screaming.

Your eyes darted from the street to the alleyways, scanning the shadows. The streetlights flickered as you walked past them, casting long, eerie shadows that seemed to move with you. You quickened your pace, not sure why, but feeling an undeniable need to get home, to the safety of your apartment.

Then, a sharp sound broke the stillness behind you.

You froze.

Footsteps—fast, heavy, and far too close.

You turned around, eyes wide, but the street was empty. The night air felt colder now, and you felt the rush of adrenaline hit your bloodstream. Your mind raced, trying to find logic in the situation, trying to explain the sudden unease that crawled under your skin. You glanced back at your phone, feeling a desperate need to call Ni-ki, to hear his voice. But then your phone buzzed in your hand, and your breath caught in your throat.

It was a message from him. “Are you home yet? I’m thinking about you.”

You took a shaky breath, attempting to steady yourself, but it didn’t help. Something felt wrong. Your heart pounded in your chest, your senses on edge. You turned the corner, taking a route that led you toward your apartment building, but before you could take another step, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up again.

The footsteps were louder now, closing in.

And this time, you could feel it—someone was behind you. You didn’t dare turn around. Instead, you broke into a sprint, desperate to make it to the safety of your apartment. Your heart raced, pumping with fear, as your footfalls echoed in the night. You could hear the sound of running footsteps following you, getting closer, faster.

With every beat of your heart, you felt the fear building. Your breaths came in sharp gasps as you rounded the last corner before your building came into sight. The lights were on in the lobby, a beacon of safety you were nearly within reach of.

But just as you reached the door, a cold hand gripped your wrist, pulling you back into the shadows.

You felt the sharp tug of your wrist as you got dragged further into the shadows, your heart racing as panic surged through your veins. His grip was iron-tight, and each step he took felt like it was pulling you farther from safety. The familiar, chilling voice whispered again, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Did you really think you were safe?” he murmured, the words coated in something dark.

The world seemed to slow as you looked around, your eyes desperately searching for help. And then, in that moment, you saw him—Jiung. He was walking out of the apartment building, his expression tight, a storm cloud of anger above his head.

Without thinking, you swung your head back, using the only weapon you had—the back of your skull. You slammed it against the killer’s face with all your might. The sound of it echoed in the night, and he grunted in pain, stumbling back. The grip on your wrist loosened for just a second.

That was all you needed.

You took off running.

“Jiung!” you screamed, voice hoarse with fear. “The killer is here!”

Jiung whipped around at the sound of your voice. His eyes widened in shock and recognition as he saw the state you were in, but there was no hesitation. He grabbed your wrist without a second thought and pulled you down the street with him. Your heart pounded in your chest as your feet barely touched the ground.

The sound of your footsteps echoed in the night, but Jiung’s determination led you to safety. He didn’t stop running until you reached a narrow alleyway, the faint glow of a streetlamp casting long shadows against the walls. He yanked you behind a dumpster, urgency in every movement.

“Stay quiet,” Jiung hissed, fumbling for his phone with shaky hands. His breath was quick, his eyes scanning the street, his voice low and urgent. “We need to wait until he passes. Don’t make a sound.”

You nodded, pressing yourself against the cold brick wall, trying to steady your breathing. Your body felt like it was on fire from adrenaline, but there was no time to process it. You had to stay quiet. You had to stay hidden.

You peaked through behing the dumpster, your breath barely a whisper as you watched the street. The killer was there, his head scanning the area. His posture was tense, each step measured, and it made your stomach drop.

You quickly pulled your head back, heart racing. Your eyes met Jiung’s, and the terror in them was mirrored in his. He pressed a finger to his lips, motioning for you to stay as still as possible. You did, trying to make yourself as small as possible, breathing shallowly, praying he wouldn’t find you.

You pushed back against the wall even further, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment, hoping the fear would subside, but it only grew. You could hear the faint shuffle of the killer’s footsteps, closer now. Every sound felt louder in the silence of the alley. Your pulse drummed in your ears, and your chest tightened.

Jiung’s phone buzzed in his hand, but he didn’t dare answer it. Instead, his eyes locked onto yours, full of resolve. He would protect you, no matter what. But the question was, how long could you stay hidden? How long until he found you?

You felt the seconds stretch into what felt like eternity, your body frozen in place. The cold air seemed to grow heavier as every nerve in your body screamed for you to move, to run, to do something—anything. But your feet remained rooted to the ground as the wind shifted, carrying with it the familiar, suffocating scent of the killer.

You opened your eyes, your breath catching in your throat as your gaze landed on him.

There he was.

He stood there, just a few feet away, his eyes locked on you. His voice was low, almost mocking, as he leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving you.

"Found you," he said, his tone sending an ice-cold shiver down your spine.

Before you could react, the terror overwhelmed you. Your throat felt tight as a scream tore its way out of you, a cry of desperation, of pure fear. You backed away, stumbling, but there was nowhere to go.

Jiung reacted instantly, leaping up from behind the dumpster, his body moving with the speed of someone who had no choice but to fight. He threw himself at the killer, fists flying. They collided with each other in a flurry of punches and kicks, a blur of movement and desperation.

But the killer was prepared. He pulled out a knife, gleaming cold under the dim streetlights, and without hesitation, he lunged.

Time seemed to slow as the blade plunged into Jiung’s abdomen, a sickening sound echoing in the alley.

You froze, unable to move, unable to breathe, as Jiung gasped, his hands clutching at the wound. Blood spilled between his fingers, and you could see the life draining from his face as he stumbled back. His breath came in quick, shallow gasps.

But Jiung wasn’t done yet. Despite the pain, despite the blood spilling from him, he refused to back down. His hand shot out toward a pile of broken glass nearby—sharp shards that glittered like jagged teeth in the dim light. His fingers wrapped around one, and with a primal yell, he swung it at the killer.

The sharp glass met the killer’s skin, drawing a streak of blood across his arm. The killer grunted in pain, momentarily stunned, but he recovered quickly. His eyes locked onto Jiung’s, full of rage, as he prepared to strike again.

You sat there, paralyzed, unable to do anything but watch in horror as the two men fought, the sound of fists meeting flesh, the sickening slashes of the knife cutting through the air. Your mind was screaming for you to act, to help, but your body refused to obey.

All you could do was watch the violence unfold before you, heart pounding in your chest, terrified of what would happen next.

In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stop. Jiung, his face contorted with pain and fury, managed to land a punch to the killer's jaw. The force of the blow sent the killer stumbling back, giving Jiung a brief but crucial opening.

With a desperate gasp, Jiung grabbed the killer’s mask, his hands trembling with the effort, and in one swift motion, he tore it off.

The world around you seemed to freeze as the dim streetlight illuminated the face beneath the mask. The face you had seen so many times before—every day, every week.

It was Ni-ki.

Your heart slammed against your ribcage, your breath caught in your throat. It couldn’t be—this wasn’t possible. Your mind refused to process it, even as the sight before you screamed the truth.

Ni-ki’s face was battered, blood smeared across his nose, a split lip, and a cut above his eyebrow. But despite the damage, despite the blood, he still wore that same, twisted smile. The kind of smile that made your stomach turn, the kind that sent a chill down your spine.

He looked at you, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement, and with the bloodstained remnants of his smile, he spoke.

“Surprise, doll.”

The words echoed in your head, ringing louder than the chaos around you. The killer—the man who had been terrorizing the streets, the one who had been hunting you, was the very person you had let into your life. The man you had trusted. The man you love.

Ni-ki.

He stepped closer, blood dripping from his face as he took a slow, deliberate breath, savoring the shock on your face. The man you thought you knew, the one who had played the role of the charming, protective figure, was now standing before you as the very monster you had feared.

And he was enjoying every second of it.

Jiung, weak and struggling to stay on his feet, gritted his teeth as he raised the shard of glass again, ready to fight, but the sheer realization of what Ni-ki was sent a wave of terror crashing over you. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think straight.

Ni-ki's eyes flickered to Jiung, then back to you, his smile widening, dark and crazy. He reached up to wipe the blood from his nose, his voice low, almost amused as he looked at the two of you.

“You really thought you could stop me? Cute.” He chuckled, a sound that made your blood run cold.

Everything you thought you knew—everything you had believed about him—was a lie. The person you had been so drawn to, the one who had seemed so perfect, was the very person who had been hunting you all along.

Ni-ki’s smile never wavered as he approached Jiung, who was struggling to stay conscious, his breath shallow and ragged. The bleeding from his stab wound had only worsened as he lay there, weakened and unable to defend himself.

Ni-ki crouched down beside Jiung, his fingers trailing lazily over the blood-soaked ground, clearly enjoying the sight of his former victim.

“You know,” Ni-ki murmured, his voice low and dripping with mockery, “you were right. You figured me out before anyone else did.” He tilted his head, a cruel gleam flashing in his eyes. “But it was a stupid way to prove it, don’t you think?”

Jiung, barely clinging to consciousness, managed to grit his teeth, his hands shaking as he tried to push himself up. He cursed Ni-ki out through his bloodstained lips, his voice rough but filled with defiance. “You’re insane, Ni-ki. You’re nothing but a sick, twisted bastard.”

Ni-ki didn’t flinch. In fact, he laughed, the sound almost too light for the situation, as if it was all some kind of sick joke to him. He reached out, grabbing Jiung by the collar of his shirt and jerking him up slightly before slamming him back down onto the cold, filthy pavement.

Jiung let out a pained gasp, trying to punch him, but his efforts were weak, his body too battered and bloodied to fight properly. Ni-ki easily dodged, stepping aside with a lazy grin. “Come on, Jiung, I thought you were better than that.” He made a mocking sound, almost disappointed. “You’re just a nobody, trying to play somebody. But you’ll never be anybody.”

With a swift movement, Ni-ki stepped back and let Jiung fall back to the floor, helpless and weak. He turned his attention back to you, eyes glinting with the same unsettling hunger he’d always had.

“You’re mine now, doll,” Ni-ki purred, his voice low and possessive. The way he looked at you now was different, like a predator sizing up its prey. “And I’m not letting you go.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, a mix of fear and a strange, confusing part of you that still wasn’t sure how to feel. He stood there, watching you with an almost calculating gaze, his smirk never leaving his face as he took in the way you reacted to the scene before you.

Suddenly the sound of sirens pierced the air, their wail growing louder, closer. For a brief moment, Ni-ki froze, his eyes flashing with irritation. His gaze snapped from you to the distant entrance of the alleyway as the first set of flashing lights illuminated the street.

“No…” he muttered under his breath, before cursing loudly. “Not now!”

Without a second thought, he spun on his heel and sprinted, darting into the shadows, his footsteps quick and erratic. You barely registered his movement as you looked up, heart pounding, to see the police officers now rushing toward the scene.

“Shoot!” Jiung’s weak, pained shout broke through the ringing in your ears, the officers opened fire. The sound of gunshots echoed through the alleyway, and you flinched, eyes wide with terror as you heard Ni-ki shout in pain.

“Move! Move!” one of the officers shouted, his voice urgent. Another officer, with the familiar stride of someone used to chasing down criminals, sprinted after Ni-ki, disappearing into the night.

The remaining officers rushed to you and Jiung, the crackling urgency in their movements. One of them knelt by Jiung’s side, his face grim as he assessed the situation. The other officer quickly turned to you, his hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you. “Stay with him,” he urged. “We’ve called an ambulance. It’s on the way.”

But you knew. You knew that it might be too late. You saw Jiung’s face, pale and drawn with blood, his breath ragged and shallow, the crimson slowly spreading across his chest. His eyes fluttered, struggling to stay open.

“Jiung…” You whispered his name, voice shaky, as you crouched down next to him. His hand reached out weakly, grasping yours with a weak, trembling hold.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. His eyes were cloudy, but he was still looking at you, even if it seemed so distant now. “I tried to… I tried to protect you…”

Tears blurred your vision. “You did, Jiung. You did.”

His faint smile made your heart shatter, but there was nothing you could do now, nothing but to stay with him.

The ambulance finally arrived, and the paramedics rushed in, their movements swift and professional, trying desperately to stabilize Jiung. They didn’t waste time, quickly getting him onto the stretcher and into the back of the ambulance.

You sat in the back of the ambulance, your heart in your throat, as they worked on him, trying to keep his weak pulse steady. Every bump in the road seemed like it could be the last.

The hospital came into view soon enough, and you felt numb as they rolled Jiung inside, their movements swift and precise, but it all felt too late. The doctors rushed to assess him, shouting orders, and you were left standing in the sterile hallway, your heart pounding in your chest.

Every passing minute felt like an eternity. You had been checked for injuries, given a few mild sedatives to calm your nerves, but nothing could ease the gnawing anxiety gnawing at your stomach. You needed news. You needed to know if Jiung was okay. If he had survived.

You waited. And waited.

You didn’t know how much time had passed when a doctor finally appeared at the door, his face grim but not completely hopeless.

“Are you here for Jiung?” the doctor asked, his tone serious.

“Yes,” you said, standing up too quickly, your knees unsteady. “How is he?”

The doctor hesitated, looking at you carefully. “We’ve managed to stabilize him, but it’s touch-and-go. His injuries are severe. We’re doing everything we can, but we can’t promise anything.”

You nodded numbly, a tear slipping down your cheek as you whispered, “Please… don’t let him die.”

The doctor gave you a small, sympathetic nod, before turning to walk down the hall, leaving you in that suffocating silence again. You didn’t know what else to do. You had no strength left.

But you didn’t leave.

--

The moment the doctor told you the good news, you felt like a weight you hadn’t realized you’d been carrying was lifted from your chest. He was stable, still weak, but his heart rate had steadied, and the monitors that had been beeping in a steady rhythm now felt like a lifeline.

You stepped into the sterile room, the sound of the heart monitor beeping steadily filling the air. Jiung was still unconscious, but the rhythm of his heartbeat on the monitor brought you a sense of relief you hadn’t realized you needed. The steady beep seemed like the only reassuring sound in the world right now.

You pulled a chair beside his bed, your hand gently resting on his. It was warm, his skin still carrying the weight of the battle he’d fought. The wounds were bandaged, the cuts and bruises still visible, but there was a certain peacefulness now. The machines were there to help him, to keep him alive. His breath was soft, but steady.

“You’re going to be okay,” you whispered, your voice hoarse, but full of hope. “You’re going to be okay, Jiung.”

You spent the next few hours in that quiet, sterile room, making sure that Jiung had everything he needed. When his family arrived, you greeted them with a nod, letting them take over. They seemed so relieved, and you could tell that the weight on their shoulders was starting to lift. But there was still a long road ahead.

After some time, the police came, and you were escorted to the station for questioning. The tightness in your chest from the night before was still there, and the quiet hum of the station didn’t do anything to calm you.

You sat nervously in the sterile, fluorescent-lit room of the police station, your hands pressed tightly together in your lap, your mind racing. The low hum of conversation and the shuffle of paperwork echoed from the hallway, but inside the room, it felt like everything was suspended in a heavy silence.

A detective entered the room, his expression serious. He was holding a folder, flipping through papers before glancing up at you. “We’ve got an update,” he said, his voice flat.

You sat up straighter, trying to prepare yourself for what was to come, but the unease that had settled deep in your chest couldn’t be shaken. “Is it about Ni-ki?”

The detective paused for a moment, then nodded. “He’s gone.”

The words hit you like a punch in the gut. You blinked, feeling the world shift beneath your feet. “Gone?” you repeated, unable to comprehend. “What do you mean ‘gone’?”

“They lost him,” the detective explained, his voice barely betraying any emotion. “We thought we had him cornered. But there was no sign of him anywhere. No trail, no leads.”

You swallowed hard, the room suddenly feeling too small. Your thoughts raced, your chest tightening as you grappled with the realization that Ni-ki had somehow escaped. How was that even possible?

“How?” you whispered, more to yourself than to the detective. “How could he just... disappear?”

The detective’s eyes softened slightly, as if sensing the turmoil inside you. “We’re still investigating, but from the evidence we gathered, we think he’s been one step ahead of us the whole time. He could be anywhere by now.”

Your mind went blank, the world spinning around you. Ni-ki—your Ni-ki—was gone.

Suddenly officers surrounded you with questions, all trying to piece together the night’s events, asking for every detail.

You answered as best you could, your mind replaying the horrible events that had unfolded over the past few weeks. Every time they asked about Ni-ki, the feelings in your chest tightened, and it took everything in you to answer without faltering.

It wasn’t until one of the detectives asked you a question you didn’t expect that your breath caught in your throat.

“Has Ni-ki contacted you?” the detective asked, his voice firm but measured. “We know you two are close. If he reaches out again, we’d like you to wear a wire. We can use you as bait to catch him.”

You froze. The words hung in the air, thick with their implications. The flashbacks to every moment with Ni-ki flooded your mind—his kindness, his protection, the way he’d whispered promises to you, the way he held you, the way he looked at you. You remembered the way he told you that he loved you, the way he made you feel safe. You remembered the thrill, the obsession, the pull of his presence.

You swallowed hard. You had always known, deep down, that something wasn’t right. But your love for him had blinded you. You couldn’t ignore it anymore. He was a murderer, a criminal, and as much as you hated to admit it, you knew he was guilty of everything they were accusing him of.

But still, the hesitation gnawed at you.

“Do you think he’ll hurt you?” the detective asked, noticing the uncertainty in your face.

You didn’t answer immediately. You thought of his words: “I would never hurt you, doll.” His voice echoed in your mind. He had never hurt you, had he? You were still alive, still breathing.

But the question lingered—could you trust him? Could you really risk everything for a man who had been hiding his true nature from you all along? A man who had killed without remorse?

You took a deep breath, the weight of the decision heavy on your chest. Slowly, you nodded.

“Yes,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll do it.”

The detective gave you a nod of approval, but you could feel the heaviness in the air. You weren’t sure if you had made the right choice, but you knew it was the only option you had. The man you loved was dangerous. And the only way to stop him, to protect others, was to help the police catch him.

The thought of wearing a wire, of luring him in, made your stomach twist with anxiety. But you couldn’t ignore the truth. Ni-ki was a killer, and it was time to face that reality.

“Thank you,” the detective said. “We’ll arrange everything. Just stay in touch, and when he reaches out, we’ll be ready.”

You nodded, feeling numb. You left the station, your thoughts swirling. The weight of what you’d just agreed to hung over you.

When you got home, the sight of Ni-ki’s apartment door covered with police tape sent a cold shiver down your spine. The red-and-white stripes, the ominous warning of a crime scene, were a stark reminder of how close to the edge you had come. How everything had spiraled out of control, and how much you had been willing to ignore just to hold onto something—or someone—you thought you could trust.

With a deep breath, you turned away and walked into your own apartment, the familiar surroundings offering little comfort as you closed the door behind you. The silence in your space was suffocating, every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet somehow louder than usual.

You didn’t do much that night. No calls, no messages, no distractions. You just walked to your bed and collapsed on it, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing in around you. You could feel the tension in your body, the deep ache in your chest where love and regret tangled together in a confusing knot.

The memories of him, of his touch, his smile, his voice, and all the promises he’d made to you… it was too much to bear all at once. You didn’t know what to feel anymore, what to believe. Every memory, every whisper of his voice felt like it was suffocating you, forcing you to hold on when all you wanted was to let go.

--

A few days passed, the police investigation continuing but yielding no new leads. You tried to keep your life as normal as possible, but the weight of the unknown pressed down on you every minute of the day. The fear that Ni-ki could be watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, never left you.

Your phone buzzed suddenly, the vibration echoing in the empty room. At first, you didn't think much of it, but as you glanced at the screen, something caught your attention. The message was from an unknown number, and your heart skipped a beat. It was a message you hadn’t been expecting, but deep down, you knew exactly who it was from.

The message itself was simple, only a few words, but it sent a jolt of fear down your spine.

“Doll, I’ve missed you.”

Your breath hitched in your chest, and your fingers trembled slightly as you stared at the screen. The word doll was unmistakable. Ni-ki. It could only be him.

For a moment, you sat frozen, every muscle in your body tight, your mind racing as the weight of his message sank in. You wanted to call the police, to reach out for help, but a part of you held you back. You had no idea where he was, but there was an undeniable pull that made it hard to ignore him.

You hesitated for a moment, then typed back a simple question, your fingers unsteady.

“What do you want from me?”

The response came quickly, almost immediately, and it sent a chill down your spine.

“Just a little reunion. I think you’ll be happy to see me."

You quickly typed back, your fingers trembling as you struggled to keep your hands steady.

"Where?"

The seconds that passed felt like hours, your pulse quickening as you waited for a response. Finally, the phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up with another message.

This time, it was different. There were no words. Only an address.

An address that made your stomach drop.

"Come alone."

You stared at the screen, your mind racing. The fear started to set in as you thought about the implications of the message. Was this a trap? Or was he truly trying to see you again? Your thoughts spun in every direction, but one thing was clear—he wanted to meet. And somehow, you knew that he was in control of this situation.

Your hand hovered over your phone, your body frozen in indecision. Every part of you screamed to ignore the message, to let the police handle it. But you knew Ni-ki wasn’t that easy to catch. He’d always been two steps ahead.

You looked at the address again, the numbers blurred by your anxious tears. You couldn’t tell if you were ready to face him, but deep down, you knew you were already preparing yourself for what was to come. You had to go. You had to see him one last time.

With trembling hands, you typed a simple response:

"I’ll be there."

The message sent, and you felt a knot form in your stomach.

--

The next night, the air felt heavier than usual. You stood at the address Ni-ki had sent, staring at the old, abandoned building in front of you. The structure was decaying, graffiti littering its walls, the windows cracked and boarded up. It looked like the perfect place for a secret meeting, a place no one would think to look. The chill of the night sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself glancing around, half-expecting someone to jump out at you.

Nobody.

You checked your phone, noticing you were a bit early. The minutes ticked by slowly, each one stretching longer than the last. The silence felt heavy, each creak and rustle sending your nerves on edge. You took a steadying breath, wondering if maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t show up.

But then, you felt it. A presence, warm and unsettlingly familiar, hovering close behind you. The hair on the back of your neck stood up as a low voice whispered near your ear, smooth yet laced with that teasing edge you knew all too well.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show, doll,” he purred, his voice sinking into your bones.

Your heart leaped, and you spun around, coming face to face with him. “You’re a little early, aren’t you?” Ni-ki purred, his steps slow and confident as he closed the distance between you, his presence suddenly overwhelming. “Did you think I’d forget about you?”

His gaze was intense, studying every little reaction from you. It was like he was savoring this moment, his dark eyes never leaving yours, his lips curling into that unsettling grin that made you feel both drawn to him and repulsed at the same time.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you tried to piece together your next move. What were you supposed to say? Your body tensed, but your feet remained rooted to the spot, your arms folded tightly across your chest as if to protect yourself from the overwhelming pull he had over you.

“Why did you bring me here, Ni-ki?” You managed, your voice steadier than you felt, but inside you could feel your nerves unraveling.

Ni-ki chuckled softly, taking another step closer. “To see you, doll. To see if you’re ready to stop pretending you’re someone else, stop running.” His fingers brushed against your arm lightly, and you flinched, though he didn’t seem to care.

He moved even closer, his face only inches from yours. “You’ve been running from me, haven’t you?” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “You didn’t really think I’d let you go so easily, did you?”

The realization hit you hard. He hadn’t contacted you to let go or to explain—he had brought you here to remind you that he still had you, wrapped up in his world, whether you wanted it or not. And as his fingers reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, you knew he wasn’t going to let you slip away.

“Oh, doll,” he murmured, his words dripping with twisted affection. “I thought you’d realize by now—you and I, we’re… inevitable. I’m part of you, as much as you are part of me. We fit, don’t you see? That little thrill you get, that rush in your veins when you’re with me… it’s more than just fear.” He paused, his eyes gleaming with something dark and possessive. “It’s excitement, isn’t it?”

He tilted his head, watching every twitch of your expression, every flicker of hesitation in your eyes. "You like it, don’t you? The thrill of it all, the mystery, the danger… If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have come here tonight. You didn’t have to answer that message.” His hand moved, slipping to the back of your neck, his thumb grazing over your pulse, feeling the rapid beat under his fingers. “But you wanted to. Part of you was… curious. Maybe even… drawn to me. You still want to see me, even after everything."

You swallowed, feeling a chill at how easily he could see right through you, peeling away layers to reach the uncertainty you’d tried to bury. His gaze held yours, and you felt paralyzed under it, trapped in the intensity of his words.

“I make you feel alive, don’t I?” His voice was barely above a whisper now, the words wrapping around you, pulling you in despite yourself. “Tell me, honestly. Do you really want to go back to your quiet, predictable life, or do you want to be here, with me?”

Your heart raced under his touch, every word sinking in deeper, stirring up feelings you had tried so hard to push down. Part of you wanted to resist, to walk away and bury this twisted pull he seemed to have over you. But as you looked into his eyes, his gaze so intense it felt like he was unraveling every part of you, you realized how hard it was to lie to yourself any longer.

As his hand slipped from your neck, trailing down your arm to finally capture your wrist, he tightened his grip just enough to make you feel the weight of his hold. “You were always meant to be here, doll. That’s why you came tonight, why you didn’t stay away. You could have told the police, could’ve run in any direction—but you came here, to me. You’re not running, not really.”

Ni-ki leaned closer, his mouth just beside your ear. “I know you don’t want to admit it, but… you’re mine, and I’m yours. It’s just the way it is. No one else would understand you the way I do.” His words were laced with dark promise, wrapping around you like a spell, coaxing you into that familiar, dangerous warmth.

“And you can try to push me away again,” he whispered, his breath warm and steady, “but it’ll never work, because I’m already in here.” His finger tapped lightly against your temple, and then he let his hand fall, brushing down your arm. “Deep down, you don’t want me to leave, do you? You don’t want to lose me.”

The realization sunk deeper, and he leaned back, smirking as he took in the flicker of doubt he’d stirred in your eyes. “So why don’t you just accept it? Stop fighting, and give in to what we both know is already there.”

You held his gaze, feeling the heat of his grip on your neck, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Every warning bell in your mind rang out, but they were muffled, tangled up in the intensity of his presence, in the dark thrill of being so close to him. You wanted to pull away, to deny the pull he had over you, but you knew it was no use. He was right; you were already caught in his orbit, unable to resist him fully.

Your voice was barely a whisper as you answered, your own words feeling both like a confession and a surrender. “I… I don’t want you to leave,” you admitted, feeling the last of your defenses crumble as you looked up at him. “I tried to run, tried to push you away… but you’re right. I don’t want to lose you.”

His smirk deepened, satisfaction glinting in his eyes as he held you close. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, thumb brushing softly along your jaw. “See? You’re exactly where you belong. With me.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with a softness that seemed almost out of place given the tension swirling around you. And then you gave in, letting him pull you closer, his hands pressing against your back as he deepened the kiss, pouring every unspoken word, every dark promise, into it. It was desperate, raw, and so intense that it felt like he was claiming you, binding you to him with a connection that you couldn’t ignore, no matter how wrong it felt.

When you finally pulled back, your breath unsteady, you met his eyes, feeling a surge of conflicting emotions rise in your chest. You loved him, or maybe it was more accurate to say you loved the way he made you feel, the way he held you as if you were the center of his universe. But you knew—deep down, somewhere you’d tried to ignore—that this was unsustainable. Dangerous. A boundary crossed that couldn’t be uncrossed.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, a tremble in your voice.

Just then, the sound of footsteps and the bark of commands echoed through the building. The police swarmed the room, moving in, guns raised and voices sharp. Ni-ki’s face twisted in fury as he took a step back, his body coiled. He fought, thrashing against the officers who closed in on him, a snarl on his face as he shoved, swung, and resisted with every bit of strength he had.

“Get off me!” he roared, his eyes searching wildly until they found yours. He kept fighting, even as they forced him down, the weight of handcuffs snapping around his wrists with a finality that cut into the air like a knife. “No! Let me go! You can’t keep me!”

They pulled you back, and an officer shielded you as Ni-ki thrashed, his desperate gaze locked onto you, his voice growing louder, more desperate, with each passing second. “She’s mine! You can’t keep us apart!” His voice cracked, but the fury remained as they dragged him, his eyes searing into yours with a mixture of anger and desperation.

And despite everything, the weight of the heartbreak fell over you like a shroud. Tears blurred your vision, your chest tightening painfully as he was pulled out of the building, his screams fading into the night. You knew this was the only way, the only choice you had if you wanted to break free of his dangerous hold.

But some twisted part of you yearned for him, for the way he’d made you feel, for the thrilling, frightening attention he had given you. The line between love and fear had blurred beyond recognition, and as the officers led you away, you could still feel the haunting echo of his words.

In the silence, you knew you’d never be the same.

--

The news spread quickly—The killer was caught. People felt safe again; there was a renewed sense of calm throughout the city, like a collective sigh of relief after months of fear. It was over. Even Jiung, recovering in the hospital, felt a victorious pride in knowing he had been right all along. The police had commended him, his bravery gaining him recognition, a promotion, and a hefty raise. He was the hero of this story, finally validated.

But for you, life had taken a different turn. Every day felt hollow without Ni-ki. The nights were the hardest, when the memories of him became a ghost haunting the quiet hours. You would lie awake, your mind replaying the stolen glances, the thrill of his attention, the depth in his eyes when he looked at you. You missed him, an ache buried so deep it was almost painful. You’d wake from dreams where he was still with you, his arms wrapped around you, his lips brushing against your skin, whispering that you were his.

It was wrong, you told yourself over and over, to feel this way. But he had given you something no one else ever had, even in all its twisted intensity. His devotion, unhinged and consuming, had been a kind of dark comfort that felt impossible to replace.

You tried to fill your days with normal things, going through the motions, reconnecting with friends, putting on a brave face. But it was never enough. The nights stretched on endlessly, his absence lingering in every shadow, the memories of him entwining with the silence, pulling you back to a place that you wished you could escape from, but part of you never truly wanted to let go.

--

It had been weeks since they’d taken him away, weeks since you’d forced yourself to start a new chapter. You’d moved to a better part of town, the kind of place you hoped would feel safe, far from the past and far from the memories of him. But today, standing in your living room, the news alert on your phone shook you to your core:

Ni-ki had escaped from prison.

The words didn’t seem real. You read them again, your heart pounding louder with each second. He had escaped? The walls of your new apartment suddenly felt too thin, too fragile. The past weeks had been a struggle, true, but you had managed to convince yourself that it was over. That he was gone. That you were safe.

And now? You could practically hear his voice in your mind, that teasing, low murmur, saying he’d find you wherever you went. The memories flooded back—how he looked at you, how he made you feel like the only person in his world.

Your phone buzzed again, and your breath hitched, a small part of you both dreading and hoping it was him.

But it was a message from Jiung: "Stay inside. Lock all doors and windows. Police are already on high alert."

You sat down, trying to gather your thoughts. He couldn’t know where you were, could he? You’d been careful, had avoided any trace of the life you’d shared in that darker part of town. And yet, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that he was already close. That he’d find you, just like he promised.

An unsettling thrill ran through you, a twisted reminder of the love that still lingered, even after everything. You whispered to yourself, clutching your phone tightly, “What am I going to do?”

You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting there, the news about Ni-ki’s escape still echoing in your mind, when you heard the faintest sound outside your door. It was soft at first, almost imperceptible, like the creak of old wood underfoot. Your heart raced, eyes darting to the door. You couldn’t breathe for a moment, waiting for it to happen again.

Then you heard it—a quiet knock, a rhythm you knew too well. Your stomach churned, and instinctively, your feet moved toward the door. You tried to stop yourself, but your hand had already reached for the handle, your body pulling you closer to something you couldn’t resist.

You opened the door just a crack, and there he was—Ni-ki.

He stood there in the hallway, his familiar dark eyes staring back at you, intense and unrelenting. His jaw was set, his expression something dark.

For a moment, neither of you moved. He took one slow step forward, and without even thinking, you found yourself stepping into his arms, pressing your face into his chest, your body trembling as you hugged him tightly.

“You found me,” you whispered, your voice a mix of fear and longing. You didn’t care anymore. In this moment, it felt like he was the only thing that made sense in your life, the only thing that could put you at ease.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you so tightly you could barely breathe. “I told you I would,” he murmured, his voice almost playful despite the heaviness of his words.

His hands were on your back, gently caressing you as he whispered more words of possession, of devotion, his voice low and hypnotic. "You're the only one who understands me… the only one who’s ever really seen me."

Before you could respond, he tilted your chin up, his gaze never leaving yours, and leaned in. His lips brushed against yours, soft at first, before his kiss deepened, seizing control, pulling you closer. You couldn’t pull away. You didn’t want to.

The kiss felt familiar, intense, almost suffocating. There was no turning back now. It was as if everything that had happened before—the pain, the fear, the escape—had led to this moment.

His fingers tangled in your hair, and his lips brushed against your ear as he continued, his voice a dangerous mixture of softness and intensity. “I told you, doll,” he whispered, each word drawing you in deeper, “no one else could ever love you the way I do. No one else knows you like I do.”

He leaned back slightly, just enough to study your face, his dark eyes filled with a twisted sort of devotion. “You tried to replace me, didn’t you?” he asked, though the question was more of a knowing accusation. “But it didn’t work. You felt it too. No one could make you feel this alive… not like I can.”

You swallowed, caught in his gaze, and even as a shiver of fear flickered through you, it was overshadowed by the intoxicating pull he had. The way his eyes roamed over you made your heart pound, every glance and touch leaving a mark you couldn’t shake.

His hand moved from your hair, trailing down your shoulder and then your arm, coming to rest on your waist. “You can try to deny it,” he whispered, his mouth hovering just above yours, “but I know you missed this… missed me.” His fingers tightened, holding you with certainty, like he was reaffirming his claim. “It’s in your eyes, doll.”

In that moment, he pressed his lips to yours again, the kiss deep, full of all the things he wouldn’t say—how he’d waited, how he’d planned, how he wouldn’t let you slip away again. His hold was unrelenting, a reminder that you were his, that no matter how much you tried to run or forget, he would always come back for you.

When he finally pulled back, his gaze intense, he murmured, “There’s no life without me, doll. We’re meant to be.” His fingers brushed down your face as he continued, “I’ll take care of you. Protect you. Nobody else deserves you but me. And now… you’re never escaping me again.”

And despite the warning in his words, you found yourself nodding, caught in his spell, the line between fear and desire blurring with every touch, every whisper.

[sp1d3rzz]

PLS DO MORE PERVERT!MIDORIYA 🙏🙏

Pervert!Midoryia

pt.2

pt.1 here pt.3 here

WARNING !! : Pervy drawings and fantasized descriptions, and mention of a boner. Let me know if I missed anything.

Summary : Bullying Midoriya was meant for fun, purely to keep you entertained. That is until he begins to fantasize about your actions.

A/N : Thank u so much for the req anon (о´∀`о) Keep sending in requests my loves !

It's horrible of him, and he knows that. To obsess and fetish over the one thing in his life that keeps him on a constant edge. His bully.

When you first began to pick on Midoriya, he figures that he'll just keep a safe distance. He doesn't bother you, and you don't bother him.

But once it becomes a daily game of cat and mouse, he realizes there must really be no escape to this. And he especially realizes that when he begins to fantasize about all you do to him.

The way his name sounds coming out of your mouth gets him hot all over. Immediate goosebumps that become easily noticeable if you pay attention.

Or when you throw an insult at him to hurt his feelings and ruin his self esteem, but it only gives him a boner because he likes the feeling of you putting him where he belongs.

You don't even notice till the day you snag his journal.

"What's the deal with this notebook of yours, huh?" your arms reach over from behind him and snatch the burnt, rusted notebook. You can tell he's had this for awhile.

Caught off guard, he quick fwips! around to grab it back. "Wait! Don't-" his face falls when he sees the spine bend open as your eyes scan over a page.

His cheeks gets red to the point his freckles are barely visible, and he scrambles to stand from his seat and take back his journal.

Though you quickly stop him with a hand to his chest to push him back down. "So defensive." You huff with a shake of your head.

You flip through a couple more pages as Midoriya stares at you in horror. He really hopes you dont get to the one page, he'd die if anyone were to see it.

His heart is racing, and his hands are trembling, anxious to know what you might do. Maybe you'll throw his book away? Maybe slap him and tell the whole class about his dirty secret?

The world is against him, because as soon as he thinks that, he sees your grin curve into a face of disgust.

Your eyes widen as you now go over every page more carefully, taking your time to actually analyze it. And he swears he's going to dig his own grave if you continue.

But when you slowly close the journal, and clear your throat with a flushed face, he gets confused. Why aren't you mad at him?

"Dork.." you mumble before shoving the notebook into his face and walking away.

Your friends follow behind you, asking why you let him off so easy this time. Though a small, 'felt nice today' leaves your lips so they quit pestering you.

But what they don't know is how Midoriya has written pages and pages all filled with you and your information. From the sketches of you when you don't notice he's there, to anatomy practice of your naked body he had imagined.

The top to bottom pages filled with filthy theories on what you might taste like, how you prefer sex, and the toys you may use.

The most noticeable thing was a drawing of you at an angle behind his head. Mouth agape with eyes teary and stained with mascara. He had you on his lap, green hair tangled from your hand clenching it.

One things for sure, you'll never see that nerd the same again.

[konigsblog]

farmer's daughter!reader and farmhand!könig.🌾🍒

synopsis; finally having sex with the loser that is obsessed with you.

tw/cw; afab!f!reader, loser!könig, inexperienced (but not virgin)!könig, top!könig, mentions of panty stealing. MDNI 18+

könig is ashamed to admit the truth about himself, but he's in fact not that experienced as he claims to be. he avoids the topic like the plague, getting off using a freshly clean pair of panties that he found on the washing line left to dry.

your parents would be gone for a couple of hours as they were down in the village, leaving both you and könig all alone. god, könig couldn't ignore the opportunity in front of him, he had to do it. you were sat in your bedroom, catching up on a new book you were interested in before könig pulled your door open suddenly, catching you with your hands between your supple thighs, rubbing at your sticky clit and getting off to the porn material in the book.

your eyes were wide with shock, while könig's were wide with desperation and pleasure. it didn't take a lot of convincing before you were naked and bare, excited to feel what könig had to offer. you knew he'd be big, but fuck, you didn't expect him to the so girthy as well. each inch pushed into your swollen folds left your voice cracking and breaking, your eyes wide at the burning stretch and ache between your soft thighs, with könig rubbing at your clit to stimulate pleasure.

he couldn't hurt the farmer's daughter or be caught doing something so depraved. your father would absolutely slaughter könig if he found out what you two were getting up to.

“fuck, schatzi— relax, take it all, sonnenschein, please. i need it all, to see your pretty pussy swallowing my large, fat cock.”

although all concerns and worries were pushed out of your head when könig began to hit that sweet spot again and again until you were sobbing and weeping, your body trembling with arousal and euphoria and your aroused cunny drooling around his length. your gummy and velvety walls pulsed and clutched onto his veiny shaft, his tip weeping against your cervix while your walls spammed around him uncontrollably, coating him in your slickness.

könig had to make a run for it after stuffing his favourite girl's pussy full with his creamy stickiness, jumping out of your bedroom window to avoid a conversation with your father while you threw your clothes back on, a secret kept between you two.

[hoe4hotchner]

hi! could I request singer reader dating Aaron and the BAU doesn't KNOW but founds out after she drops her album/song about him (I'm thinking juno, bed chem by Sabrina etc).

Valkyrie | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x singer fem!reader | WC: 0.9k | CW: No use of Y/N, but reader's stage name is Valkyrie in this, Fluff, relationship

The team had scattered across the bullpen, taking a rare break between interviews and paperwork. Penelope, however, was anything but quiet. She was vibrating with excitement as she stormed into the room, tablet in hand and an undeniable spark in her eyes.

“Okay, stop everything you’re doing,” she announced dramatically, catching everyone’s attention. “Have you heard this new album?”

Emily, sitting at her desk, glanced up with a smirk. “What album?”

She held up her tablet like it was a piece of holy scripture. “Valkyrie’s new album just dropped. I’m telling you, it is life-changing, soul-touching, cry-your-eyes-out amazing.”

You were Valkyrie - the pop sensation who had taken the world by storm over the last couple of months. Known for your breathtaking voice, and your way of writing lyrics that felt personal even to the audience, like you were pulling the words straight from your soul. What the team didn’t know was that Valkyrie, the woman with chart-topping hits, was Hotch’s girlfriend - and the subject of your latest songs? Well, that was him.

"Valkyrie? Isn’t she that singer you’ve been obsessed over lately?" Derek asked, teasing.

“First of all, it’s not an obsession; it’s an appreciation of an amazing artist. And second,” Garcia held her finger up for dramatic effect, “her new album, Into You, is… well, I’m not saying it’s about someone in her life, but these lyrics, guys… they’re personal.”

Spencer, ever the analyst, raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think it’s about someone specific?”

“Oh, Spence,” Garcia sighed dramatically, tapping her tablet to pull up the lyrics. “Just listen to this - ‘Your steady presence holds me still when the world spins too fast. In your arms, I finally find my way home.’ Does that not sound like she’s writing about someone she loves?”

JJ tilted her head, intrigued. “It does sound pretty intimate.”

Derek grinned. “Sounds like someone’s in love.”

Emily leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “I wonder who it’s about.”

Meanwhile, Hotch had been quietly observing the conversation from his office, a small, secretive smile playing on his lips. The lyrics they were quoting were all too familiar to him. He’d heard them months ago when Valkyrie - well, you - had played the demo for him late one night, curled up together in his living room. You’d been nervous, watching him for a reaction as your voice filled the room. But there had been nothing but pride in his chest, knowing how deeply you felt for him.

"Hotch!" Derek’s voice called as he stepped out of his office. “You ever listen to this stuff?”

Hotch looked up, his calm mask firmly in place. “Occasionally.”

“Occasionally?” Garcia gasped, horrified at his indifference. “Aaron Hotchner, how can you be so nonchalant about THE Valkyrie?”

He merely raised an eyebrow, his expression neutral. “I’m aware of her work.”

Spencer, still analyzing, added, “There’s been a lot of speculation about who her songs are about. She’s private, so no one really knows who she’s dating.”

Derek chuckled. “She’s probably dating some regular guy, someone outside the spotlight.”

At that, Hotch couldn’t help but suppress a grin. He supposed, in a way, he was that regular guy - well, as regular as the head of the BAU could be.

Just then, Garcia pressed play on the song, and your voice flowed through the speakers, soft and intimate. It was the song you’d written just for him, though no one else knew that. The one that talked about finding calm in the chaos, about love that was steady and unwavering.

JJ’s brow furrowed as she listened closely, some of the lyrics sounding a little too familiar, her eyes drifting toward Hotch, catching the subtle change in his expression. “Wait… Hotch, you wouldn’t happen to know something about this, would you?”

The team went quiet as all eyes turned to him. Hotch met JJ’s gaze, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. He debated for a moment how much he should reveal. You had both agreed to keep things quiet after all, your lives were public enough without everyone knowing about your relationship. But as he looked at his team, he realized it was time.

“I do,” Hotch finally said, his voice steady.

Garcia’s eyes went wide, her tablet nearly slipping from her hands. “WAIT… WHAT?”

Derek blinked in disbelief. “No way.”

“You and Valkyrie?” Emily asked her tone somewhere between astonishment and amusement.

Hotch’s small smile grew a little. “We’ve been together for a while now.”

The bullpen exploded into noise - questions, laughter, disbelief. Garcia was beside herself. “YOU’VE BEEN DATING VALKYRIE AND DIDN’T TELL US?”

Hotch shrugged slightly. “It wasn’t relevant to the job.”

Emily shook her head, grinning. “I can’t believe you kept this a secret.”

“Believe it,” Hotch replied, his tone light but still full of pride.

Penelope, still in shock, glanced at the tablet, then back at Hotch. “That song - this whole album - it’s about you, isn’t it?”

Hotch didn’t need to answer, but the look in his eyes was enough confirmation. Spencer, still processing, muttered, “Well, that certainly explains the lyrics.”

As the team bombarded him with questions, Hotch’s mind wandered back to you. Despite the craziness of your life in the public eye and his demanding career, you had found something rare and beautiful together. And now, it seemed, the secret was out - but somehow, he didn’t mind.

[inkdrinkerworld]

ok ok I‘m obsessed with spencer x bau!reader in a secret relationship!!

like imagine s2!spencer and reader and how reader always keeps their eyes on him during cases after tobias, trying to help him with his mood swings (caused by the withdrawals) in subtle ways

or s6!spencer dealing with his migraines and reader trying to be there for him, subtly helping him relax on the plane by playing with his hair or whatever and all that while trying to hide their relationship (the others probably already noticed but just keep their mouth shut and smile to themselves whenever they have a sweet little moment)

gets my mind running!!

Cw: withdrawal symptoms, vague mentioning that spencer is taking drugs, fluff

You’re worried about him. You can’t stop chewing your nails as you look at him.

You know the team knows, and you know Spencer knows you all know but you can’t say anything.

If you say anything, tell him to get help, he’ll need to report it and if he reports it he’ll lose his job.

So you do what you can.

There’s Gatorade in the fridge, all stocked with the purple grape flavored stuff you’d learnt through trial and error that Spencer preferred.

He drinks a few a day, suffering through it because he knows it will help. He also knows you’re doing this because you care about him.

He hopes you still love him after all of this.

You do.

“I got you a soup, Spence.” Your words are quiet and saved for when you reach his desk, setting the hot styrofoam container on his desk with a smaller box next to it.

He looks up at you, pupils blown wide and sweat beading on his eyebrows.

You don’t even hesitate to use your shirt sleeve to dab away the sweat. Spencer fights the urge to push your hands away.

He hates to disappoint you. “This has to be disappointing. I have to be disappointing.” His words are sudden you nearly jerk back.

“What?”

“This. I’m pitiful.”

You shake your head, stooping down so you’re eye level with him. “What happened was not your fault. I hate seeing you like this because you didn’t deserve it; not because you’re pitiful.”

Your words are so forceful and sincere that it stuns him for a little bit. In his shock, you walk away from him and Spencer panics when you go to the stairs to Hotch’s office.

His heart is pounding so hard he’s shocked he hasn’t blacked out yet.

Maybe he has because a couple seconds later you’re helping him stand and holding the container of soup and your bag.

“Let’s go.”

Spencer’s eyebrows tug together, his lips unconsciously falling into a pout.

“But we have reports to finish.”

You shake your head, for his protestations, Spencer follows you with his own satchel all the way to your car.

“I told Hotch you were feeling faint and you had a fever so he’s let us go home.”

Spencer is speechless. He’s even more so when you turn on the heater on his seat and keep the ac high.

“You don’t have to do all this.” He stammers out, holding the containers as you reverse.

“I want to take care of you and help you get better Spence. It’s as simple as that,” he nods, unable to help it.

You’re like his personal angel. He hopes you know how he feels about you. Hopes you know that he’s grateful and he’ll always be. Hopes that the flush in his cheek can be blamed on what his body is going through right now and not your next words.

“We’re going to my place, I’ve got a better bed and I can mess with the heating. You don’t have to do it alone, Spence.”