#he is like FINALLY. something I CARE ABOUT.

[holeforzenin]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ “I DON’T NEED GOOGLE, MY HUSBAND KNOWS EVERYTHING”

You’re sitting on the kitchen counter in an oversized shirt— his shirt. Your legs are swinging idly while you’re scrolling on your phone as he cooks. “Do you think cats can see ghosts?” you asked aloud, eyes squinting at a Reddit thread.

Nanami didn’t even look up from where he stood at the stove. His sleeves are neatly rolled up to his forearms, his tie loose around his neck and his glasses were sliding slightly down his nose. “They can. Their pupils can pick up ultraviolet light, which some believe contributes to sensing energies humans can’t”.

You blinked, taken aback by how he knew the answer to such a useless question like that. “Okay, how do you know that?”

He finally looked over at you with one brow raised. “Because you asked me that last year at 1 a.m. after watching that horror movie. You were scared to go to the bathroom”.

You flushed in embarrassment from the memory, making a face as you tossed a kitchen towel at him. “Shut up, I forgot”.

“You always forget”. He caught the towel effortlessly and set it aside, walking over to you with that steady, unhurried pace that made your stomach flip. “That’s why you don’t need Google, right?”

You smiled, your eyes bright as you looked at him. “Exactly. I don’t need Google. My husband knows everything”.

“Hm,” he murmured, slipping his hands to your hips and standing between your parted legs. “Maybe. I do have a few things memorized by now”.

His lips brushed your temple, his nose dragging down your cheek to the spot just below your ear. You melted instinctively, leaning into the comfort of his touch. “Like how you always get pouty when I win an argument,” he whispered against you, softly kissing your jaw. “Or how you kick your feet when you’re excited”.

You gasped playfully. “That’s not knowledge, that’s slander”.

“And yet…” He lifted your chin with two fingers, thumb brushing your bottom lip as he stared into your eyes. “I know what this means, too”.

He kissed you softly and passionately, like time didn’t exist beyond the press of his lips against yours. You sighed into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he deepened it, his tongue teasing yours with lazy confidence as his palm splayed warm and heavy on each side of your thighs.

“I think,” you murmured between kisses, “you just like proving me right”.

He chuckled lowly, voice deep but still soft as always. “Mm. And what am I proving now?”

“That you do know everything,” you breathed in desperation, tugging gently at his loosened tie. “Especially when it comes to me”.

That was all the invitation he needed.

Nanami eased you back, laying you down across the countertop with a careful hand behind your head, kissing down your throat as he nudged the hem of your shirt up past your hips. No panties. Of course. You knew he liked easy access.

“You did this on purpose,” he muttered, dragging his knuckles along the inside of your thigh.

“Because I knew you’d come home early”.

“And what does that say about you?” he asked, smirking.

“That I know you, too”.

He hummed softly, slipping two fingers through your folds and groaning softly at how wet you already were. “Smart girl”.

You whimpered as he teased your clit, lazy circles designed to drive you insane. His lips met yours again, his other hand pressing your wrists gently above your head.

“You always ask the most ridiculous questions,” he muttered, lining up against your wet entrance without warning, which is crazy because you didn’t even notice when he reached into his pants and pulled his cock out till you felt the weight of him pressing against you. It’s so thick and hard and sooo warm that you squirmed. “But when it matters— when your body’s desperate for something real, you don’t need answers”.

He slid into you slowly, making you gasp at his size, your back arching by the stretch and your legs are wrapping tightly around him.

“You just need me”.

You nodded, completely breathless. “Always you”.

Nanami kissed you like a promise like he had all the answers in the world— and you didn’t need a single one of them as long as he was yours.

[adorekento]

"TELL ME WHAT TO DO."

summary: life has never been better since marrying Nanami Kento—every second feels like something you wouldn’t trade for your favorite food. But who would've thought that even after 3 years of marriage, you both still haven’t had sex?

warnings (18+): MDNI. husband!nanami x wife!reader, angst to smut, explicit sexual content, P in V, unprotected sex (wrap it up), reader is DESPERATE, insecure, demanding, no usage of 'y/n', dominance, masturbation, he pulled out but she wanted creampie!!!!, fingering, handjob, breeding kink, pregnancy thoughts, “daddy” used in reader’s inner thoughts, begging, choking (light), edging (light), they're both a freak for eo, cursing, praise kink, thoughts of kids, soft dom!nanami, he talks u through it gng 💋, reader is very whiny, pet names, mature themes, intimate sex if u blink, vulnerability, strong language, etc. (lmk!!)

author's notes: bro rhis took me like 2 weeks cuz of depression 🥀. I'm barely surviving!!!!!! I DIDN’T edit this so if there r typos or shit... js pretend u didn’t see them ok 💔 love yall twin!!!s!!. Also dw I see those requests piling up in my inbox—keep ‘em coming . I genuinely LOVE reading ur ideas, even if my brain is slow at the moment. OK ENJOY READING

word count: 5.2k (not proofread)

Your thighs clenched. Again.

It has been clenching for so many hours that they’ve gone numb. You shift under the soft blanket, the air thick with the scent of your husband’s cologne lingering from earlier, and it makes your stomach twist with frustration.

You’re soaking. Again.

It’s pathetic, really. How easily your body responds now—how even the ghost of his touch, the memory of his voice rumbling low in your ear as he tells you how proud he is of you, makes your cunt throb.

crazy, right?

Your husband. Your fucking husband. The man you've been married to for years. Who’s seen you at your worst, held your hair back while you threw up from period cramps, memorized the way you like your coffee, babied you, kissed your stretch marks, and still acts like you’re the only woman to ever walk this earth.

And still, after all that—he hasn’t fucked you.

Not once.

Not on your honeymoon.

Not on your anniversaries.

Not during those quiet, late nights when you're curled up in his lap, drunk on wine and love, whispering every filthy thing you want him to do to you.

Nothing.

Never.

You’ve made out, sure. He’s fingered you maybe once or twice a month, always with the kind of slow care that made you want to scream.

You’ve given him a few handjobs, watched him cum in your grasp while he grunted your name and bit his lip so hard it bled. But that’s where it always ends.

That’s where it always stops.

Because Nanami Kento, your perfect, maddeningly composed husband, is gentle. Too fucking gentle.

So gentle it’s driving you absolutely insane.

He says he wants to wait.

Says love is about time.

That he wants everything to feel right—not rushed, not pressured, not like he’s using your body just because you’re married. He says you’re not a thing to be taken. That he wants to love you, not consume you.

It would’ve been romantic. hell. it IS romantic. At first. That patience. That unwavering control. You thought, ‘Wow, this man is made for me.’

But now?

It's been years, and you’re left curled up on the couch at 03:54… flushed and needy, wrapped in one of his shirts with your thighs pressed tight and your fingers covered in your own slick.

And no matter what you watch, no matter what you read, no matter how deep you fuck yourself with your own fingers—nothing feels like him.

Because you don’t want your fingers.

You want his tongue.

You want his cock.

You want his hands pinning you down, his teeth grazing your throat, his voice low and wrecked in your ear while he finally lets himself have you the way you’ve both been dying for.

You’ve tried to seduce him. Girl, have you tried. You’ve worn those little lingerie sets he bought for you, tried riding his thigh in nothing but lace. Tried whispering all your filthy little fantasies in his ear, hands sneaking down his pants, lips trailing down his chest.

But every fucking time, it ends the same.

You straddle him.

You grind.

He kisses you slowly.

You can feel him—his hard, thick cock pressing up against your dripping heat.

And just when you think this time, he’s finally going to snap—

He stops.

A knock at the door.

A call from work.

Or worse—he pulls back, looks at you with those gentle fucking eyes, cups your face, and says something like, “Not tonight, sweetheart. I don’t want to rush this.”

And what the fuck are you supposed to do with that?

Your heart aches with how much you love him. Truly. Every day with him feels like living in a dream. He treats you like royalty—makes you feel adored, cherished, like no one else even exists. He never forgets a thing. He compliments you constantly. He’d die before hurting you.

But when you’re ovulating and every nerve ending is on fire, when your skin is begging for his hands, and your body is aching for him to break the rules he set—when you’re on the edge of tears because you’re so painfully, brutally, unapologetically needy—all that love starts to taunt you.

Because it’s not enough.

You’re 99% content. You really are.

But that 1%?

That one, tiny, aching percent that never gets touched? That part is starving.

Sex.

You couldn’t hwlp but feel a little pouty every time your friends launched into another one of their steamy stories—laughing, swapping details, comparing notes like it was the most casual thing in the world.

You’d sit there with your lips pressed into a tight smile, nodding along, trying not to let the emptiness in your chest show.

It wasn’t like you wanted to spill your own secrets—if you even had any. Sex is supposed to be private, intimate, something you wouldn't just toss into a group chat like gossip.

But still… The silence on your end wasn’t a choice. You had nothing to share. No experience. No stories. Just a head full of filthy thoughts and daydreams that kept you up at night, especially when he crossed your mind.

And it’s eating you alive.

You slam your laptop shut, fingers still slick, frustration bubbling under your skin like lava. This isn’t just arousal anymore—it’s anger. It’s longing. It’s desperation laced with hurt, laced with doubt.

Does he not want me?

Does he not think I’m sexy enough?

Does he not feel the same ache I do?

Tears threaten to burn in your eyes, but you blink them back.

No.

Fuck that.

You weren’t going to cry because your own husband wouldn’t fuck you.

You were going to make him.

Your hands found his tie the moment he walked into the bedroom, tired from work, shirt slightly undone, hair a little tousled—the sight of him only made the fire in your gut explode harder.

“My love…” you breathed, your voice nearly shaking as you tugged him down, fingers curling in the fabric of his tie like a lifeline.

A low groan escaped his lips as you pulled him flush against you, your legs locking around his waist like a vice, yanking him down onto the bed without hesitation. The soft thud of his weight on the mattress was drowned out by the pounding in your chest, in your pussy, in your damn soul.

“Kento…” you whined, voice cracking into something that sounded more like a sob, more like please. Your whole body trembled beneath him, needy and raw and exposed.

You were so fucking horny it was hard to think—hard to breathe. Everything felt too hot, too loud, too full of him.

His hands found your hips, grounding and warm. He squeezed them gently, like he always did—so fucking gentle—and you wanted to scream.

“…yes, honey?”

And then you felt it.

He pressed his crotch to your soaked panties, the hard line of his cock dragging against your swollen folds, and you moaned—a broken, uncontrollable sound that came from somewhere deep in your chest.

It wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

“Ken..” you gasped again, hips grinding up to meet him, shameless and desperate. “Please—fuck, please—just fuck me. please.”

Your fingers gripped his shirt now, trembling. “I can’t take it anymore, I can’t—I need you, I fucking need you. Not your fingers. Not your sweet words. Not your soft kisses.”

You looked up at him, wild-eyed, tears threatening again—not from sadness this time, but from the sheer force of everything you’ve buried.

“I need your cock, Kento. I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me until I forget my name. I need to know you want me like that, too.”

He looked stunned. Lips parted. Hands frozen.

He kept looking into your eyes. Deep—like he was staring straight into the core of you, trying to read every emotion you didn’t know how to say without crumbling.

“Darling… we—”

“Oh, is this the part where you tell me we have to wait?” you snapped, “Is this where you say you don’t want to rush our relationship? Where you tell me this can’t be about lust? That you want to wait until it’s the ‘perfect time’?”

Your hands clenched around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer and yet pushing with your words, with the venom dripping from your tongue—born out of pure desperation.

“Are you seriously about to do that again, Ken’? Because I swear I’m gonna lose it.”

“N-No… I mean—”

You shook your head, the burn in your throat threatening to spill into tears, but you swallowed it down because you weren’t sad

You were furious.

“I get frustrated, Ken.” you growled, barely holding yourself together. “I get so mad like I could fucking scream, like I could cry and break things, and I hate it. I hate that I feel this way about you.”

You choked on your breath, the words pouring from you like they’d been waiting at the edge of your tongue for months.

“I get so fucking turned on when you don’t touch me the way I want. When you keep doing this thing where you kiss me like I’m made of porcelain as jf I’ll crack if you fuck me like you want to. And it drives me insane because I know you want to. I can feel it.”

Your hands slid down his chest, your fingers trembling as you pressed your palm against the hard, obvious bulge in his pants.

“You’re hard, Ken’. Every time. Every fucking time. You get like this and then you just—stop. You stop and you say something gentle and sweet and then just nothing happens.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just listened.

“Do you even love me, baby?” you whispered, voice breaking. “Do you even want me? Do you want to fuck me, too, or is that just me?”

“Am I not attractive enough for you? Is that it?” Your voice cracked, your eyes locked on his, daring him to lie—begging him to give you something.

Still, he didn’t interrupt. He didn’t lean in to kiss you and hush you like he always did. He just watched, his jaw tight, eyes burning with something deeper.

Because he wanted to hear it. All of it.

What else did he even make you feel—just because he wanted to be patient? Just because he thought patience was love? When it only made you feel neglected, starved, and completely out of your mind with need?

He was too quiet. Too still.

The silence pressed heavy between you both, louder than any shout, any moan, any begging you’ve ever done.

He just stared, his hands still on your hips, his eyes unreadable—but burning. You couldn’t tell if he was angry, or hurt, or just holding something back with every ounce of control in his body.

And that silence?

It fucking crushed you.

Your throat tightened. You hated how your eyes started to sting again, tears threatening to spill even though you swore you wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him. Not over this. Not over the fact that you practically threw yourself at your own husband and he still wouldn’t fuck you.

You looked away, trying to blink the tears back, trying to swallow the humiliation clawing its way up your throat.

“I—I shouldn’t have said anything..” you whispered, voice barely there. “Forget it. Just forget it. Let’s just—go to sleep or something, okay? I didn’t mean to—fuck, I didn’t mean to ruin everything, I just—”

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you.”

Your eyes widened.

Your breath caught.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you ever since the first time I saw you.”

Your eyes snapped to his.

“I wantwd to bend you over the second I heard you laugh.” he went on, voice shaking now—not with hesitation, but with restraint.

“I wanted to have you moaning my name in some dark hallway before I even knew your name. You were wearing that tight fucking skirt and that smug little smirk like you already knew I’d fall for you—and I did. I fucking did.”

“I even wanted to know how good it would sound if you moan my name the moment it left your lips for the first time.” Your breath hitched at his words, your thighs involuntarily clenching.

“You think I don’t want you? Baby, I wake up hard just from dreaming about you. I jerk off in the shower thinking about what your pussy would feel like wrapped around me. I have to force myself to stop every fucking time we make out because I know that if I go too far, I’m not stopping until I’m buried inside you and making you scream.”

You whimpered out loud. You couldn’t help it. He chuckled low, breath heavy against your lips, his cock grinding slow against your soaked core.

“You don’t know how many nights I’ve spent fucking my hand to the thought of you—legs spread, tears on your cheeks, begging for my cock.”

You were trembling now, your nails digging into his shirt. “I thought I was protecting you...” he admitted. “I thought I was being gentle. Loving. Waiting until the right moment. But fuck, baby, I didn’t know I was hurting you by not taking what we both need.”

His hands slid under your shirt, palms hungry against your bare skin.

“and for that… I'm really sorry, I really mean it.” he murmured, his hands slid up under your shirt—warm, wide palms trailing up your sides until they found your breasts, and he groaned.

It was guttural, instinctive, like he couldn’t believe he’d kept himself from touching you like this for so long. He palmed you through your bra at first, then tugged the fabric down, letting your tits spill into his hands.

“Fuck…” he whispered, voice ragged. “Look at you.”

Your hands flew to his—gripping them, grounding yourself. They were so big, so steady, and they felt like fire on your skin. You weren’t even sure if you were holding him there or trying to keep yourself from falling apart.

His thumbs brushed over your nipples underneath your bra which made your back arch, a soft whimper escaping your lips before you could even think to hold it back.

“Every time you’d crawl into my lap…” he growled, “or wear those little shorts around the house... I’d have to walk away, baby. I’d go to the other room and calm myself down so I wouldn’t bend you over the fucking couch like I wanted to.”

You whimpered again, biting your lip as your thighs rubbed together, aching for friction.

“I’d picture this.” he murmured, leaning in to kiss down your neck, nipping at your skin like he couldn’t stand not having more. “Your tits in my hands. Your legs wrapped around me. Your pussy so wet and hot and ready for me. I’d picture you on your knees, begging me to ruin you.”

“Ken—Kento..”

He pressed his forehead to yours again, his hands still full of you, his cock grinding harder into your soaked panties as he stared down at you like he wanted to eat you alive.

“I get it. So…” he whispered. “Tell me what to do.”

You blinked up at him, your lips parted, breath stuttering, heart pounding like a fucking drum.

“Tell me how to touch you. Where to kiss you. How to fuck you. I’ll do any-everything. just tell me.”

You looked up at him, breathless, pupils blown wide, hair a mess, nipples hard under his fingers—but your voice? It came out sharp, needy, laced with months—years—of built-up frustration.

“You wanna know what to do, Ken?” you hissed, your hips jerking up against him, chasing friction like your life depended on it. “Start by not stopping this time. Touch me like you mean it…” you snapped, grinding up into his cock, desperate and aching.

“No more slow fucking kisses and soft whispers and telling me to wait for the right time. This is the right fucking time. I’m wet, I’m throbbing, and if you don’t fuck me tonight, I swear, I’m gonna hump your fucking thigh until I pass out.”

“I’m not made of glass, Kento.” you added, wrapping your fingers around his wrists, dragging his hands down to your waist, then back up to your breasts again, encouraging him to squeeze harder—needier.

“You can be rough with me. I want it. I need it. I need to feel your cock inside me, I need to hear you lose control. I need to see what the fuck you look like when you’re not trying so hard to be perfect.”

You were rambling, but you didn’t care. You were trembling under him, wild with want, your panties completely ruined, sticking to your folds, your clit aching from how ignored it had been for far too fucking long.

“I want you to grab me. Flip me. Manhandle me if you fucking have to. I want you to fuck me until my thighs shake and I cry and scream and forget my own name—”

“You want all that?”

You grabbed his tie and yanked his face down, nose to nose, your lips brushing against his as you hissed.

“Yes. I want all of it. I want you, Kento. I want every filthy, pent-up, repressed, desperate thought you’ve ever had about me. on me. in me. right fucking now.”

He blinked once… then his mouth was on yours, hands everywhere, his tongue slid against yours, wet and messy and hot, swallowing the soft whimpers falling out of your mouth as he ground his cock right against your soaked panties, letting you feel how thick and hard he was for you.

One of his hands gripped your breast, kneading it roughly, finally without hesitation. The other slid down—quick, deliberate—and he moaned into your mouth when he felt the mess between your thighs.

“You’re soaked…” he growled. “my wife is fucking dripping.”

Your hips jerked when his fingers pressed to your clothed clit, just enough to make you jolt with a high-pitched cry. He smirked against your lips. “You meant it, didn’t you?”

“you whimpered, “stop teasing—fuck—fuck me alrwady.”

You were tugging at his belt now, frantic and shaking, and he let you—watched as you undid the buckle, pulled the zipper down, reached into his boxers with desperate, greedy fingers. You wrapped your hand around him and nearly gasped.

Fuck, he's huge. Hot, heavy, twitching against your palm.

“Y-You’ve been hiding this.” you choked out, stroking him slow just to feel the way his hips shuddered.

“I was- trying to be patient,” he rasped, voice nearly hoarse now. “But you—fuck… you test me every day, baby.”

His hand pushed your panties aside and when his fingers slid through your folds, his whole body shuddered.

“So wet for me… So soft.” he whispered. “I’ve dreamed about this—about the way you’d feel, how tight you’d be.”

“Then take meeee…” you pleaded, voice breaking. “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, Kento. Just—please. I need it. I need you.”

He grabbed you by the hips and hooked your legs around his waist. Your panties were gone in seconds—ripped, tossed somewhere blindly across the room.

He positioned himself at your entrance, just barely pressing the thick tip against your soaked slit, teasing your hole. You whimpered, trying to push your hips up, but he gripped your thighs hard, pinning you in place.

“Tell me again..”

“I want you, Kento, so fuckinggg bad.” you breathed, nearly sobbing from the anticipation. “I want your cock. I want you to fuck me like you’ve been dying to. I want you to ruin me.”

That was all it took.

He pushed in, slow at first, making sure you felt every inch, veins, size—stretching you so fucking deep your back arched off the bed and a broken moan ripped from your throat.

“Oh fuck—Ken—Kento—”

He bottomed out and stayed there for a second, just breathing, gripping your hips like he was holding himself together with threads.

“You feel… incredible..” he groaned. “So tight—so fucking perfect for me.” Then he pulled out, and slammed back in—hard, which made you scream.

He didn’t give you a second to recover—he started pounding into you like he was possessed, like every bit of restraint and patience he’d shown all these years had finally exploded into raw, filthy need.

and you love it.

Your body bounced with each thrust, your thighs trembling as he slammed into you again and again, the sound of skin slapping and your soaked pussy squelching filling the fucking room.

“This is what my wife wanted so bad, right?” he groaned into your ear, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head with one hand, the other gripping your waist so tight it might bruise. “This what you were so desperate for, baby?”

“Yes—fuck—yes, Kento!” you cried, arching into him, legs shaking from how deep he was.

"Take it nicely, just like that..."

His cock hit places your fingers never could—each thrust pressing against your sweet spot so perfectly you were already close to tears. It was brutal, perfectly brutal, rough in the exact way you’d been begging for. You sobbed, the pleasure too much, the pressure too high.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you like this since the first time you touched yourself beside me and thought I didn’t notice.” he groaned, mouth against your jaw. “Thought I didn’t see the way your thighs shook, the way you whispered my name when you thought I was asleep.”

Your walls clenched around him hard.

“Oh my—Ken—please—please don’t stop!” you begged, barely able to breathe between moans. “Harder, please, harder—”

He let go of your wrists and grabbed your throat, just gently, enough to tilt your chin up so he could look you in the eyes while he ruined you.

“Look at me when you cum.” he growled. “I want to see your face when I make you fall apart.”

And fuck, you were so close—his cock dragging over your most sensitive spot with every savage thrust, your clit grinding against the base of him with every slam of his hips, your walls spasming already.

“Oh, my sweet baby…” he hissed, thrusting harder, deeper, his voice dark and breathless. “Cum all over my cock, baby—show me how much you fucking needed it.”

You choked on a cry, nails raking down his back, and your whole body tensed.

Then shattered.

Your orgasm hit like a fucking truck—hot, intense, blinding—your mouth wide open in a silent scream, tears streaming down your cheeks from how violently your body shook beneath him.

He groaned when he felt you clamp down around him, hips stuttering as he fucked you through your high.

“That’s it.” he grunted. “Good girl—such a good fucking girl—taking me so well—”

He pulled out just in time, groaning deep as he came all over your stomach and thighs, hot and thick and messy, hand wrapped around his cock as he finished, eyes locked onto your tear-streaked, fucked-out face.

You were gasping for air, still trembling, legs spread wide and twitching. “Why did you pull outtt, Kennn???” you whined, breath hitching, still sprawled out beneath him—skin flushed, soaked, trembling.

Your voice was hoarse, cracked with frustration and the remnants of your high, but still laced with that needy, bratty tone only he could pull out of you.

Nanami’s chest rose and fell, his breath still uneven, a strand of hair stuck to his damp forehead. “I-... Are you alright? I wasn't rough, was I? Did I hurt you—”

“Nooo.. answer my question, baby!” you whined as he blinked down at you, dazed, cock still twitching in his fist. And then, slowly, a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“You were that desperate to get bred, huh?” he murmured, fingers tracing the mess he made across your stomach, dragging the thick cum over your skin in lazy, teasing circles. “You wanted all of it, baby? Inside?”

You nodded uncontrollably, whimpered while your hips twitches at his words, at the way his tone dropped.

“Yes, fuck, Ken… I wanted you to fill me up—why’d you fucking stopp?” Your voice crscked again as you glared up at him with glossy eyes, grabbing at his wrist. “You always stop. I wanted to feel it, feel you, all the way—”

He leaned in, crowding over you again, one big hand sliding under your ass to keep your legs spread, the other smearing more of his cum onto your inner thighs like he was marking you.

“Then tell me..” he whispered, voice low and gravelly, lips brushing your ear. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you next.”

You rolled your eyes, “Be roughhh, babyyy..”

“You don’t want me to be careful?” he growled, voice rough in your ear as his cock pressed right back against your soaked folds, already hard again. “Not now. Please.”

“Then I hope you’re ready to take every fucking inch of me.” He grinned, making you gasped as he slid back in—slow, just to tease, just to make you feel that first stretch.

You clawed at his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist again, heels digging into his back to force him deeper.

“Fuck—fuck, yes, right tbere—” you sobbed, already overwhelmed, already addicted to the way he filled you. “Don’t stop, Ken—don’t you fucking stop again! Fuckkk- Don't stop—”

He didn’t.

He gripped your thighs and snapped his hips forward hard, burying himself to the hilt with a growl that shook through your body.

The bed rocked.

The sounds—wet, deep groans, filthy moans—filled the room even more as he started thrusting, deep and rough and mean, but with that same love in his touch that made it unbearable in the best way.

One of his hands slid between your bodies, cupping your tits, squeezing them, thumbing over your nipple as you writhed beneath him.

“You feel this?” he grunted. “This pussy was made for me. Yeah? Take it slow… Take it like a good girl. I love you, sweetheart.”

You couldn't even form a response, your nails scratched down his back, your mouth open in a cry of desperate pleasure.

“I wanted you bent over every surface in our fucking house.” he kept going, hips snapping, “Wanted to watch my cum leak out of your pretty pussy while you begged me to give you more. I wanted to ruin you.”

“Then fucking ruin me, Ken!” you screamed, tears slipping down your cheeks again. “Mark me up, mess me up, make me yours—do whatever the fuck you want to me!”

He kissed you then—deep, harsh, tongue in your mouth while he rammed into you, over and over and over, chasing the orgasm he’d been holding back for years.

And this time?

He didn’t pull out.

You couldn’t bring yourself to admit just how badly you wanted him to fill you up — not because you actually wanted kids right now, but because the idea of it, of him, made something primal stir inside you.

It was embarrassing, really — how every time he interacted with children, something in you ached. The way his voice softened, the way his eyes lit up with warmth and patience — it drove you absolutely wild. Kids love him and his presence so much. You’d never imagined something so domestic could be so erotic.

Maybe it's just you though...

And yet, the thought crossed your mind again.. Would it be too much to call him daddy? The word itself felt cringe, almost ridiculous on your tongue, and you worried it might ruin the moment — that it might make him laugh, or worse, be turned off, and look at you differently.

So instead, you bit your lip and stayed quiet, your breath catching as the heat between your bodies lingered.

Your hands flew up to cover your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds that slipped out anyway. Sweat clung to your skin, your bodies still tangled in the aftermath of pleasure, his weight a welcome pressure atop you.

Every slight shift sent aftershocks through you, and you didn’t know if your body could handle another round. But deep down, you knew you didn’t want him to stop.

His breath was hot against your neck, each exhale fanning over your damp skin like a whisper of fire. You felt the way his chest rose and fell against yours, the weight of his body grounding you, making everything outside this room feel far away.

His fingers grazed along your waist, a slow, deliberate touch, as if he was memorizing you, all over, again.

Your thighs trembled around his hips, still sensitive from the last wave he pulled from you.

You whimpered softly, unsure whether it was from overstimulation or craving more. Probably both.

He tilted his head, catching the sound, and you didn’t have to look to know he was smirking—that teasing, dangerous smirk that always made your breath hitch.

“You’re so quiet all of a sudden, my love.” he murmured, voice thick and low, words dragging through your skin like silk and smoke. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not with your heart hammering in your chest and your mind so full of him, of the way he held you like you were fragile and ruined all at once.

The word lingered on your tongue—Daddy—and the thought of saying it out loud made your thighs press tighter around him.

Embarrassment flared in your stomach, but it was quickly drowned out by the fire he lit every time he touched you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, brushing the hair from your flushed face. “What are you thinking about?”

You bit your lip, eyes locked on his. Maybe it was the afterglow talking. Maybe it was the way he was still inside you, making you feel so full, so connected, like he could reach into your soul and leave a mark. But the truth bubbled up anyway, hot and real.

“I was thinking…” You hesitated, cheeks burning. “…how badly I want you. How badly I want to give you everything—even if I’m not ready for what that means.”

“You already gave me everything..”

His words struck something deep inside you—a tenderness that made your chest ache more than the roughness ever could.

You blinked up at him, eyes glassy, lips parted. You could feel how hard he was trying to hold himself back now, his usual teasing edge traded for something raw, reverent. Like he was worshipping every inch of you just by being there. Just by staying.

He brushed his thumb over your cheek, the pad of it catching on the slight swell of your bottom lip. “You don’t have to be ready..” he murmured, voice low and honest. “Not for that. Not for anything you're not sure about. But if you ever are…” His gaze dropped to your lips, then lower—to where your bodies were still joined. “Just say the word, and I’ll give you everything.”

You whimpered, the sound caught somewhere between need and awe. Your hips shifted instinctively, a silent plea for more, even if your body was already spent and trembling.

The heat hadn’t left you—it only simmered lower, deeper, curling in your belly like a secret promise.

And he felt it. Of course he did. The faint movement. The soft squeeze of your walls around him. The way your eyes silently begged.

“Still not done with me?” he asked, teasing but gentle. “I don’t think I’ll ever be done with you.” you breathed, your fingers threading into the damp strands of his hair.

“I want you to ruin me, Ken. Again. Slowly this time.”

“Then we’ll take our time.”

© [ adorekento ] do not steal, repost, or translate my work.

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summary - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- Arranged marriage trope, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, psychotic Geto lol- lots of hate sex, Suguru calling you a stupid monkey, angsty, FULL of smut. Reader is a virgin bc she's sheltered due to been promised to him. Reader is FEISTY asf and mean right back. Explicit sex and Geto being whipped/insane/obsessed and psycho. This part- light angst, explicit sex, oral ( f receiving) breed kink (it's me so lol) mating press, multi rounds, honestly cute, sweet and fucking emotional!!! WC - 10k

A/N- THE HAPPY END IS HERE! Sooo the beginning 4k words or so are VERY similar to the angst end, but don't skip them because I put a lot of little nuances and deviations! I hope you enjoy the happy ending and the complete end of this fic <3 I'd love to hear thoughts!!

<<<Part five (Sad end) - Playlist - Masterlist

Happy Ending (Sugu/Reader end!)

Suguru lifts you up into his arms, as tired students and sorcerers retreat tentatively, Suguru’s curses dissolve as if they weren’t there while all he can focus on is you, the guilt eating at his heart. Your unconscious body lolls in his arms as Suguru is speaking to his cult quickly, ordering them to stop and retreat for now, all while holding you so tightly against his chest.

Satoru waits for Suguru, staring at your face now, looking so oddly peaceful for what happened, he wanted to pick you up and bring you to Shoko, but Suguru had snatched you up so quickly he had no chance to. Suguru is carrying you around and murmuring his soft orders, not letting you leave his grip.

Satoru had a feeling this would happen, and he hates himself for knowing it and bringing you anyway, but you were okay with it - willing even - to save everyone, he admires it about a girl he hardly knows. To put yourself and a baby in danger to reach out to Suguru, it shows just who you are, it’s easy to see how much Suguru has fallen, when Satoru never thought Suguru never would feel that way again.

Suguru finally walks up, glaring at Satoru when he brushes back a lock of hair from your brow, itching to smack his hand off. “Don’t touch my wife.” Suguru’s words are husky, through his teeth, as Satoru’s blue eyes dart back to his, raising a white brow.

“You’ve really done such a great job taking care of her so far. Why don’t I carry her, I don’t trust you not to disappear, and Shoko is the only one I trust helping her.”

“Tch, you think I don’t even want to help her!?”

“Why? You left her.” Suguru snatches you up closer against his chest, violet eyes glaring now at Satoru, and you hang so limply he feels sick, like you’re just nothing in his arms, barely any signs of life aside from soft breaths.

“You won’t hold my wife in your fucking arms.” 

“Fine, then follow, now.”

Suguru never thought he’d listen to Satoru, but he does, following him now into Shoko’s medical set up, her brows raise as she sees Suguru for the first time in almost nine years, he notices how exhausted she is, all of the fun energy he remembers sapped away. He falters a moment, before carrying you inside, Satoru shuts the heavy door with an echoing bang.

“What’s happened?” Suguru delicately lays your unconscious frame, as Shoko sets to feeling your pulse.

“Energy blast from… one of my men.” Suguru gulps down it all, the fact that it’s even worse, that you were hurt by one of his by mistake.

He wants to kill that man right now.

But Satoru is fucking right - it’s all him.

“She’s pregnant.” Satoru mentions, as if it were so casual, and Suguru glares over at him. “Isn’t she?”

“Yes she is but it’s not your place to fucking say.” Satoru smiles just a bit, something about seeing his friend actually fucking caring about something for once, even if his ire is directed at him right now. Suguru looks at Shoko now, swallowing nervously as he speaks. “She is pregnant.”

Shoko sighs now, nodding and assessing you carefully. “Can’t be far along, she’s not showing.”

“Five weeks.” Suguru answers, quietly, as Shoko raises her hands now, and shuts her eyes, dark hair falling a bit over her shoulders.

“I can’t guarantee the baby will be okay, but I can save her.” Suguru’s heart shatters at her words, looking as the reverse curse technique starts working over you with the incandescent light.

“It’s all your fault. Why’d you fucking bring her here!?” Suguru walks up to Satoru now, smacking a hand as he brushes your hair a bit off your sleeping face, earning a glare behind white bandages.

“She asked to come.”

Suguru pauses. Are you that reckless?

“I told her no at first, but I thought she’d be the only thing to bring you to any of your fucking senses, have you stop killing my students, our friends.”

“I don’t have any fucking friends.”

Shoko scoffs, eyeing him with tired eyes now. “You did.”

“It’s not you all I wanted to eliminate, you simply chose to defend them, the weak,  pathetic…” He can’t say it anymore, what he called them, what he called you.

“Weren’t you the one who said it’s our job to protect the weak?” Satoru’s voice is quiet now, reminding him of just that, the time he felt that way, naive and young.

“You continue to lose all your comrades and friends, Satoru you may be the strongest but it’s not worth it - without them, there are no more curses.”

“It’s not your choice to change how the world is. You’ve gone so far, the only person I’ve ever seen you love since you… changed… is here.” Satoru’s words nearly make him fall over with the pain, the grief, looking at your still unconscious body, as Shoko focuses harder with her technique, the glow soft around you, hovering right over your tummy where a baby exists.

“Please just save her.” Suguru whispers now, and Satoru slips off his blindfold completely, blue eyes seeing right through him.

“You did this. If she doesn’t make it, it’s because of you.”

“I fucking know that!” Suguru shoves Satoru now, which merely earns a tired, sad little smile, while he grips his wrist before he lets Suguru strike him. “I know it, okay? I don’t even… fucking deserve her. I know it.” He’s close to tears as he shoves off Satoru, covering his face before he looks back at you.

It’s gone too far, god it’s all gone too far, hasn’t it?

How can he live with himself after what he’s done to you. He places a hand on yours, you don’t grip it how could you, limp and weak fingers, exhausted face growing just a little brighter. You’re exhausted from him, from the stress - god he left you in his bed, alone, naked and gleaming from your lovemaking.

Lovemaking, it was lovemaking.

You were his everything, and not once did he let you get treated or shown that way, what was just one time of worshipping your body when he didn’t worship or appreciate your soul? Your mind, your wishes, he barely knew you truly - he never gave you a chance to listen. Why couldn’t he just give you a chance, why couldn’t he be there for you!?

He hates himself.

He was going to kill them all, every single human for a better world, but to lose the only important thing to him, you, in a room with two people who loved him once, who cared for him once, and he never deserved any of it. Of your body, of your heart, didn’t deserve any kindness that you - rarely - bestowed upon him, your sweet pleas nor your desperate cries for more of him.

Now that he sees you, and it’s been a good twenty minutes, he’s pacing, his stomach sick and turning, his mind a tumultuous storm of moments where it all changed. Of moments where everything shifted, the life and family he thought he built all lost to a girl, who slapped him, who cursed him, who overtook his heart.

You.

“It’s not working.” He says after more time passes with no sign of anything from you in the quiet room, worried as Shoko sighs, shaking her head.

“I need more time with her, okay? Her body is already in a rough state.”

“What rough state!?”

“She has a weak will, and she needs to have some will to make it through this.” Suguru can’t stand to look then, turning away, his robes still dripping the blood of others, as the woman he loves is unconscious.

A weak will, because of him, he fucking knows it too- it’s all him that did this, that caused it, he wants to blame Satoru for putting you in danger, but it’s ultimately his fault. You begged him to stay despite having been forced into this, despite the horrible things he said and did to you, despite it all you still asked him. You still tried to break through, almost meeting your end.

You awaken suddenly as he contemplates it, with a startled gasp, sitting up, staring at an unfamiliar but pretty face of a woman in scrubs, a stethoscope around her neck. She smiles gently, you feel two men’s hands on you, Satoru’s holding one hand, Suguru the other, both staring up at you now.

“I’m sorry I put you in harm.” Satoru’s words are full of remorse, one of his blue eyes revealed is staring up at you, glimmering. “It was the only way but…”

“It’s okay. I chose to, it was the right thing.” He exhales in relief, as you look at Suguru now, torn between anger, relief and fear… and more, so much more brimming to the surface. “Suguru…”

“I ended the battle.” It’s all relief now, as you clutch him tightly, and all the love in your eyes makes him even more sick, how could you love him?

“It worked.” Your whisper makes him squeeze you so tightly you can’t breathe, before pulling back, glaring down at you.

“It was foolish, reckless-”

“You are not about to lecture her right now on being reckless.” Suguru scowls at Satoru’s words.

“Let’s talk while Shoko checks her out.” Suguru’s words are surprisingly soft, a way you’ve only heard a couple times, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Suguru…”

“Just a minute.” You nod, but something is tugging at your heart.

Satoru and Suguru walk to the other end of the enormous room, footsteps echoing while Shoko murmurs softly. “I’m Ieri.”

“Thank you for… saving me, Ieri.” Your own quiet name makes her smile a bit, as she looks at Satoru and Suguru. “They were your friends, weren’t they?”

“Hmm, I guess they were. Let me check this heart rate, okay?” You nod, eyeing the two quiet men, as your disoriented mind and sore body process what exactly had happened.

“I know you owe me no favors, Satoru… but can I ask for one?” Satoru frowns now, leaning against the wall, as you sit up with Shoko’s help and speak quietly.

“You stopped the attack, if you’re willing to give this up, I’ll do you any favor.” He says, making Suguru sigh.

He doesn’t deserve you.

He doesn’t deserve Satoru.

He deserves no happiness for what he’s done, the horror in your eyes, the fear of the unknown, the baby just barely growing that surely would not survive with him near you. You look at him across the room, with those sad, broken eyes - he’d never made you happy, not once - yet you truly tried. You begged him to fucking stay and what did he do, what did he cause?

“I am taking Mimiko and Nanako far away.” Satoru’s blue eyes widen now.

“And your wife, yes?

Suguru feels sick as he shakes his head. “No.”

“Suguru, are you fucking serious, what more does the girl have to do to be with you!? She almost died to save you, not just everyone.” Satoru’s voice is a hushed whisper, eyes narrowed.

“That’s just it, I’m no good for her, or the baby if it… makes it. Chances are with me and how devastated I make her, it won't.”

“Suguru, she will forgive you.” Satoru puts a hand on his former best friend’s shoulder, coated in blood, and Suguru doesn’t shove it off, he takes a breath instead, shaking his head.

“She will, and so will you, but I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve her and I never did.”

“So become the man she needs, you’re not too-”

Suguru laughs harshly, taking Satoru’s hand off now, holding it for a moment, a million memories of their friendship falling as his hand falls. “Both of you make excuses, but I see what I did to her.”

“She’ll be okay, Shoko-”

“She’ll never be okay. Satoru, I have to ask you…” Satoru shakes his head again, and eyes you now.

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking run, seriously!?” Suguru yanks him out of the room, out of your earshot now, Satoru crosses his arms, as the door echoes in the cold empty halls of the abandoned building they’d shielded Shoko in.

“Take care of her.” At Suguru’s broken words, tears feeling once cold eyes, Satoru falters, lips parting. “Take care of the baby if it… makes it.”

He glares, shoving at his old friend, who’s too down to not let him budge with the movement, forlorn look on his face. “You take care of them, become better.”

Suguru shakes his head. “I can’t face her. I can’t face what I’ve done, I need to go. Far, far away.”

“For how long!?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever come back. I know it’s a lot to ask - but I also know I can trust you to take care of her.” Satoru’s furious, not at the thought of taking care of you, but the fact that Suguru is running, that he still even now can’t accept love. “You will take care of her better than I could.”

“You think you’re doing the right thing, but you’re not. She chose to come here, can’t you give her a chance?” Suguru peers through the door window, the thick pane of glass, sighing and touching it longingly, while Shoko checks your vitals. “Your family is in that fucking room.”

“I know, fuck… but she has a chance to be happy, to have that baby - the way it’s going? She won’t even get to with me. Please, for the friendship we had, take care of her. The girl I love.” Satoru’s own emotions make his throat close, while Suguru realizes just how deeply he loves you, more than he even could admit. But he didn’t choose you, no matter how deeply you begged him to, no he left you alone in that bed.

He can’t forgive himself for it.

He is not sure he cares about any other casualties, he wishes he did care more for that - he still sees humans as pests, he does not share Satoru’s view and maybe never will. But you so clearly need him to, and he realizes he’s too far in his own hatred still, you were that exception, that bright spot. You were the one regret he now holds, and he knows he loves you enough to let you go.

“Please look after her for me, Satoru.”

“Jesus christ, Suguru.” He swipes a hand through his long white hair, looking at you in that room, sighing. “Of course I will take care of her and the baby. But it should not be me.”

“Thank you.” Suguru puts his hand on Satoru’s shoulder, and for a moment Satoru sees him - the best friend he ever had, making what he thinks is the best decision for a girl he loves. He loves and feels, still deep down, and something breaks Satoru down then. “I went too far.”

He scoffs at that, sighing. “Understatement of the century. I will not tell her goodbye for you, though. You need to at least explain your stupid decision.”

Satoru walks back into the room, looking down at you now, you’re weak but alive, and he still senses two energies with his powerful six eyes. He gently holds out his hands, and you take them, using his help to stand, shaky now. “Are you feeling okay, sweets?”

“I’m okay.” You nod a smile just a bit, turning to Shoko. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. We’ll… give you two a moment.” She reads the room clearly, Satoru and Shoko have known each other so long it really just takes a look.

You watch curiously as they walk out, and Suguru has tears in his violet eyes, something you never thought you’d see, they glimmer and illuminate, his face so serious and sullen it makes you panic. “Did they say the baby-”

“No, no, for now it all looks fine. Shh.” He pulls you against his strong chest, and you fall apart, sobbing now, shaking your head and shoving at him, hating the mix of comfort and sorrow this man brings. “I know,” he whispers, as if to soothe you, only for you to be infuriated, feeling anger hot coursing through your veins.

You pull back, furious, chest heaving with the quickness of your breaths, your own cheeks covered in your tears now. “You know!? You know? You left me. You chose this over me.”

“I did. And that’s why I’m no good for you.” His broken voice and tired gaze stall you, not after all of this would he not fucking choose you again!? Not after carving his place in your heart entirely does he get to leave!?

You pause now, gasping at his audacity, feeling him tense, emotionally pulling away from you again. “What the fuck are you on about right now?”

Instead of the usual arguments, the back and forth, Suguru is just contemplative, listening to you before he speaks. “It was selfish, so selfish not to let you run when you wanted to.” You’re shaking as he cups your face, thumb tracing your cheek, brushing aside the onslaught of tears, exhaling and leaning low.

“So you’re selfish, what’s new?” Your angry whisper just makes him ache for you, god is there one moment he doesn’t? Is there one second in any universe he thinks he will live without you - he wants to do the right thing now, to let you go, but how can he, when you’re so deeply ingrained inside his fucking soul?

The one bright spot that he almost took out completely clings to him, and why should you?

 “I almost killed you.” He whispers hoarsely, you shake your head now, scowl firm on your tired, beautiful features.

“You didn’t just almost kill me, you almost killed everyone in the fucking city! Suguru, I’m fine, this is not even what you should be worried about.”

“Tch, are you!?” His grip on your waist draws you closer, while your head falls back, and you stare into a monster’s eyes - a monster you love. “Are you fine? You almost died.”

“I chose to come here, you can’t blame Satoru when I begged him to bring me. I had to try to save them, those innocent people!”

“It worked.”

You sigh, shaking further, burying your face against his chest, he’s covered in sweat and grime and blood from the battle, but you don’t care. “Are you done with this foolish effort?”

“I’m done.” You look up in shock, cupping his face now, and he leans so low, until your breaths mingle, hand shaking as it holds you.

“Thank God. Oh Suguru, thank God.” You pull him down for a kiss, full of all the relief in your heart. You’ve saved him, everyone is okay - glimpses of hope and something beautiful fill you with a light you’ve never had. He kisses you back so deeply, exhaling against your lips, deepening it and pulling you so tightly, his hard body enveloping yours.

“I should have told you.” He whispers, pulling back, lips almost against yours, nose brushing against yours.

You gulp, throat dry, in so much fear of what he’s going to say, what he’s going to do, his voice terrifying you in its intensity. “Told me what?”

Suguru cups your face with one hand, heart pounding as he feels it, so deep in his soul, finally ready to spill those words. “I love you,” you gasp then, and his heart hammers nearly out of his chest as the declaration spills from his lips. “Fuck I love you, love when you hit me, love when you called me out, love the fire inside you.”

His declaration makes your heart shatter, you want to be happy, but you feel it - his apprehension, his fear, his love.

Loves you.

He loves you.

“Suguru…”

“I love you and don't deserve you.” His broken voice and tears infuriate you as much as they deeply touch you.

You glare now, trying to hold it together, when you feel like shattering. “Don’t you dare do this, don’t you run!”

“Baby, this is how I can show how much I love you.” He cups your face with two big hands and long fingers, you’re glaring through your tears, gripping his wrists.

“Don’t you dare.” You whisper, teeth clenched, you feel it then, you feel him pushing you away, when he’s just close enough. “I won’t forgive you ever.”

“Satoru will take care of you both, better than I could, he’ll be good to you-” The shock of his words hits you like a wave, like what knocked you to the fucking floor earlier, the dread in your stomach.

“What!? You’re shoving me off on your fucking friend?” You shove at his chest now, but he doesn’t budge, even as you smack at it, he doesn’t move, doesn’t let go of his grip. “If you love me you’ll run away with me, we can start over.”

The desperation in your voice tempts him to no end, god he’d love it, but he knows how much you’d suffer, always. “I am leaving, starting over.”

“Not with me?” Your hurt pours through every word, and Suguru wants to bring you, god he does, but he knows it so clearly - he could never make you happy, but he sees it - how Satoru looks at you. Maybe he could give you what you deserve, as much as he selfishly wants you, as badly as this hurts to do or say.

“You’ll be better off this way. You and the baby.”

“Bullshit, it’s such bullshit Suguru!”

“It’s the truth, I love you enough to finally do this.” He brushes your hair back tenderly, you smack his hand scowling up at him.

“You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to abandon me after not choosing me - just to not choose me again!”

“It’s not that,” your sobs wrack your body, as he steps back, brushing back his tangled dark locks in frustration, the thick strands falling across his face as he watches the girl he loves shatter because of him, all over again. “I am choosing your happiness.”

“Why can’t it be with you?” Your broken whisper makes his heart break.

“How can I look you in those beautiful eyes and know what pain I caused, I can’t have you looking at the monster I am.”

“You’re my fucking monster, okay? Mine!” You shove him again, he just sighs, defeated. “I love you Suguru Geto. I do, despite it all, despite how completely fucked in the brain you were, I love you dammit. You can’t just leave me now, like I’m some damn pet you can’t take care of. I love-”

He’s slammed his lips again, desperate and hungry, and you fall into him, as his kisses grow more and more ardent, pulling back just to take a breath, hand slipping up your spine. The contact alone makes you shiver, tongue meeting his stroke for stroke, so much emotion in this one kiss you wish it would last forever, fingers clinging to the silk of his robes.

“Suguru,” you pull back, tears falling against his fingers, breaths making your chest rise and fall, as you cling to his robes, the blood soaking against your skin, enveloping it in red. “You’re mine, you don’t get to leave me.”

He whispers your name then, his own tears falling, against your lips salty as he hovers over you, exhaling shakily. “I don’t deserve you though, you or this baby, not after what I did to you.”

“Then you’ll earn it, you’ll earn the right of me standing by your side. You’ll become better, I know it, fuck I do. There’s more to you.” Your foreheads touch, while he finally breaks down then, picking you up in his arms now, your lips are angry, hungry, tugging with your teeth as he nips you with his. Your tongues messy and desperate while you drink each others’ cries in, echoing in the quiet room.

“I don’t deserve you, I don’t…” His whispers break you, a broken man declaring them hot against your throat, as he breaks down for you, and you bury your face against his neck, letting him hold you up like it’s nothing, clinging to him then. Feeling every bit of your soul drawn to him, despite it all.

“I need you goddammit, you don’t get to leave me. Us. I’ll beat the fuck out of you if you try, it’s not even funny you psycho.” He exhales, easing you down then, you’re dizzy with desire, with need, thrumming through every inch of your skin, as he leans back, eyeing you under lashes dripping with tears.

“How can you love somebody like me?” His broken whisper destroys any resolve you have left, you know all he has done to you, you can only imagine what he has done to others, but deep down you know one thing to be true-

You do love him.

“I just do, there’s no reason for it, there’s no reason for any human emotion, Suguru Geto. We just feel.” Your tremulous smile, amidst everything he’s done breaks him down, bit by bit, as his heart pounds for you, as his body aches for you, thoughts of ‘what ifs’ flowing through his mind.

What if he did let Satoru care for you?

What if he just left you now?

What if you fell in love, what if you moved on, and were so happy, and got everything he ‘thinks’ you deserved, leaving him alone forever - because he knows damn well he will never want or be with anyone else ever again. What if he had let you go, and had not gotten to see you again, hold you again, kiss your lips? Have you under him, on him, have you?

He almost just did that, one choice and he was going to push you away, when all you wanted was to be let in. He takes a deep breath, an arm wrapped tight around you, bringing you firm against his chest. “I don’t know if I can learn to live with humans, aside from you. I don’t know if I can lose all this hatred.”

“Then we’ll go, we’ll go away. And we’ll try, every day. Okay?” He nods then, you exhale and kiss him once more, the kiss is so different than any before, deeper than either of you have had, while he drinks it in, the girl he doesn’t deserve, the life he’s not sure he should get to have, because you love him.

Does he deserve that love, finally?

“You deserve love.” Your words speak to the questions stirring in his soul, and for the first time in so long, Suguru is crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as he tries to pull it together, holding you in a bruising grip as he just cries then.

Suguru crying.

He has not felt emotions since long ago in Jujutsu high, when he watched his loved ones die, when he lost faith in everything he knew, something he thought died that day glimmers and breaks free. The girl in his arms that he treated horribly who for some odd reason loves him, then he knows - he can’t keep going like this, he has to give everything for you.

“I’ll try, Princess.” His soft tone breaks you down further, so upset in your wracking sobs he pulls back a bit, swiping them off your cheeks with one hand, the other bringing you against his chest. “Calm down, please… take a breath.”

“You really stress a girl the fuck out.” He chuckles a bit, earning a punch from your little balled up fist while you sniffle. “You don’t get to laugh about it.”

“I know, I know.” He brushes your hair back gently, studying a face of a girl that’s been hurt too much, too deeply, but the joy of hearing you say it all overwhelms his senses. He sighs again, tilting your chin up, studying your swollen lips carefully, a thumb brushing across the thin and bitten flesh. “You really want to be with me? I’m giving you an out.”

“I don’t want your ‘out’. I want you, the real you too, not this bullshit cult leader crap. I want the boy who Satoru has fought so hard to get back, I want the boy I met, he’s in there, okay?” He looks away then, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if he is in there.”

“He is, and you know it.”

He wants to believe you, but he finds he’s selfish for not leaving you in that moment, for instead picking you up gently in his arms, bridal style - remembering that first night with you. The first time he touched you, and he knew how deeply he felt, that he assumed you must have powers, but you did in fact have them, they were just different than anything he’d ever seen.

He speaks it then, softly. “You’re not just human.”

“Suguru you-”

“You’ve got a power.” You roll your eyes now, infuriated at the annoying man you chose to fall for.

Well you never chose to. You just did.

“You will not even act like you don’t love a human-”

“Power to bring me to my knees,” he continues, in a husky voice, and when he presses you more tightly to him, lips an inch from yours, the world fades, everything fades but this singular moment. “The power to make me give up anything, do anything for you. Kill anyone who hurts you, even if it’s myself.”

“Suguru-” He cuts you off again, kissing you as he cradles you so tightly, you feel his strength even as his body shakes with his emotions, with his regret, with his need.

“I’ll never hurt you again. I swear it. If I do, you get to twist that knife in my fucking chest.” You shake your head, but he just reiterates it, softly.

“I wouldn’t be able to.”

“You have all the power over me. You’re my everything.” You take the hand wrapped around you, placing it on your tummy, heating up as his violet gaze drifts down to it.

“We are your everything, Suguru. Of course, Mimiko and Nanako too. We can be… a family. If you’re willing.” He nods then, pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead now. “Then let’s get them, and find… a home. A new home.”

He exhales against your skin, nodding as he carries you out, and Satoru Gojo is leaning against the wall, blindfold off for once, arms crossed casually when he smiles over at you. You tap Suguru’s shoulder and he glares at you. “You’re awfully friendly with him.”

“You’re acting jealous like you weren’t gonna pawn me off on him. Let me down.” You glare up at him and he sighs, easing you down, Satoru’s lips quirk up at the corners, easing off the wall and walking over to you now, tilting your chin up. His eyes bore into you, gleaming with his own emotions.

“Are you alright? You okay to walk?” He asks softly, you nod then, reaching over to wrap your arms around his waist. He falters for a moment, as you feel Suguru’s death glare, holding you back then, hand resting at the small of your back, warm over your silk kimono. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but cry against his chest, and Suguru looks away then, stepping back for a moment. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“No, it was shitty okay? I knew the risk and-”

“No. Thank you, Satoru.” You look up, and his heart hurts when he sees your tears, as his friend avoids even looking at the two of you. “It was the right thing to do, and don’t you dare feel bad.”

He sighs in relief, hugging you again, lips pressed against your ear as he bends down. “You brought my friend back, I should be thanking you.”

You cry more, body shaking and so small in the strong sorcerers hold, as Suguru clears his throat. “You all are a little too close.”

“I can still take care of her if-”

“No!? I mean, no.” Suguru rubs the back of his neck, frowning as he wants to rip his best friend’s arms off. “I was… being…”

“Stupid?” Satoru and you finish, and Suguru crosses his arms now, glaring at the two of you.

“It wouldn’t have been the right decision, especially how you’re pawing at her. Let her go.” Suguru yanks you away, and you can’t stop the laugh that escapes, a sound Suguru never really heard from you, breathless, your soft smile lighting up a tragically beautiful face, one he’s kept upset.

“You’re jealous?” You ask, and he scoffs, glaring, while Satoru does not remove his hand, smirking over at him.

“You two are just too close is all. Conspiring this whole time?”

“Maybe so.” You look back to Satoru, smiling again. “We’re going away for a while, but… we’ll be back one day. Won’t we, Suguru?” You hold out a hand now, and he nods stiffly, Satoru sees it then, the love he so clearly has right on his face for you, and the love you have for him, as your hands entwine.

“We will be.” He gruffly repeats, and the three of you stand there for a moment, each hand is held by the two men as they glance at each other, wondering if it’s still there - the deep friendship, and fuck you truly hope it is. Suguru didn’t just need you, he needed him too, and you hope one day your psycho husband can work on his very shitty communication and open up.

“We would’ve had fun together, sweets.” Gojo teases one more time, before Suguru has you yanked up against him, scowling deeper at Satoru, while you giggle, against Suguru’s hard chest, resting your head for a moment.

“You think it would’ve been fun, him pawning me off huh?” You tease back, and are landed right back in Suguru’s arms, while he and Satoru walk out side by side, and sleep starts to tug at your body, still drained from the hit.

“Of course we would have, you wouldn’t have even missed him.” Gojo winks and you giggle, and you’re pretty sure Suguru is about to lose his mind, walking out then to see the wreckage, it takes your breath for a moment, Suguru’s shoulders slump as he takes in the chaos and destruction.

“Hey, we’ll do better than this.” You say softly, caressing his face, a thumb brushing over a sharp cheekbone. He nods then, sighing and shutting his eyes, as if he can’t take it all in.

“Satoru, thank you for… helping save her.” Satoru blinks in surprise - a thank you is nothing he thought he’d get. “I guess we may cross paths again.”

“I guess we might.” Satoru smiles at you both a little sadly, as if he’d gotten his friend back and he’s going away again, but also it’s a peaceful look, for the moment things are safe for Satoru’s students and friends. For a moment there is peace in his heart as he looks at the two of you. “You’ll have a baby by then.”

“Yes we will.” Suguru murmurs, nodding to him a bit.

“Name it Satoru-”

“No.”

Satoru pouts then, shaking his head. “You know, so ungrateful. I’m out of here, bye sweets.” He winks at you again and throws two fingers up with a grin, disappearing without a trace. You giggle at it, and Suguru keeps glaring daggers.

“You like him far too much.” You sigh, shaking your head.

“We just connect because we both love an emo bitch.”

“An emo… when you’re better, I’m beating the fucking attitude out of you.” Your tummy flips, and you bury your face again in his neck.

“You can’t even do instant transmission like Gojo, huh?”

“Instant… that’s an anime!? I have a dragon, that’s much fucking cooler than Gojo’s shit, hmm?” You just smile against his neck, knowing then, this is him. This is Suguru Geto, the man you lived to see glimpses of. As he’s summoning these giant curses, his rainbow dragon, sitting you right on there and smiling, eyes crinkling and making you melt.

You gasp as you all take off - it’s as if you are some Princess, with a psycho cult leader who loves you, as he pulls you against him, head against his chest while he tenderly brushes your hair back. The exhaustion starts hitting, the fact that you almost lost him, lost everything that you suddenly realize is so important to you, while he inhales the scent of your hair and you fly up.

“Dragons are pretty cool.” You concede softly, earning his chuckle, lips tenderly brushing against your temple.

“I’m sorry I left you last night, I’m so sorry.” You look up sleepily, fuck you’re exhausted, trying to focus on him now.

“I forgive you, Suguru.”

“Should you?” His whisper is soft when you lay back against him again, arms wrapped around his waist.

“Probably not, but I do. I just… want you to never leave me. Promise, please.” You whisper against where his chest is bare, the wind gently rushing across your faces, while he holds you nestled in his arms.

“I promise, Princess. I will never leave you again.”

*****

One year later

You hold your sweet baby Noa against your chest as Suguru puts Mimiko and Nanako to bed, they’re giggling and kissing all over her as they always love to do, but Suguru gently chides them. “Girls, you know it’s well past bedtime.”

“We can help mom with Noa though!” Mimiko crosses her arms, and you smile at her, brushing her hair back.

“I appreciate all your help, but Noa is going to sleep too.” You peek at her precious face, she looks a lot like you but has Suguru’s silky black locks already, too much hair for a little baby to have. And her eyes have the darkest lashes, just like her father, who ruffles both of the girls’ hair now, chuckling.

“Boba tomorrow from your favorite place if you don’t argue.” His sing-song voice works.

“Fine dad.” They say simultaneously, and then the girls kiss you all before finally bouncing off to their rooms, leaving you and Suguru to head toward the nursery, his arm around your waist as your bare feet pad across the floor.

“You always bribe those girls, you know.” He chuckles once more, a sound that’s much more frequent these days, opening up the door for you now, the moonlight filtering through the blinds, illuminating the pretty room, all decorated in pretty pinks and purple by the girls before Noa came.

“I mean, are you arguing the efficiency of these tactics?” Suguru teases, having gone from war tactics to bribery for time alone with you was something quite new to him, but it fit well. Everything felt…

Perfect with you.

With the girls.

With his sweet baby girl, who is already fast asleep against your chest, her pretty face serene as you brush a thumb against a chubby cheek, smiling tenderly, the moon casting shadows across your beautiful face. It fills him with so much tenderness it’s hard to even explain, the way you fit so perfectly, knowing you were the missing piece, filling the void he let grow too long.

Your love for Noa was beautiful to see, of course Suguru adores his little girl, but you were so devoted and constant, also in your love to his girls. Since you met them you were kind, but once you all left and moved out of the country and spent more time, you were fiercely protective and loving of them like they were your own, and the girls had even started calling you mom.

Everything felt too good, and sometimes Suguru wonders if he deserves any of it, any of this happiness, love or joy that you brought him. You look up at him then, a sweet smile on your face, and he walks up to the pretty little white bassinet, brushing Noa’s downy hair back and smiling.

“She looks milk drunk again.” He teases, you shush him, a finger to the lips, a smile on your face.

“She might be, but you know…” your fingertips drift down his chest, over the silk of his robes, making his stomach clench hot with desire. He's been dying to have you, but you two were waiting until you healed up after a bit of a rough labor. The look you give him now makes him ache for you. “I’m feeling very good tonight. I think I pumped enough to have a glass of wine?”

“Fuck…” You cover your giggle and he sighs, hands clenching against your waist too tightly, before releasing you with an exhale. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He exhales and takes your hand, gently tugging you so that you both shut the door quietly of Noa’s room, pressing you against the wall now, arms on either side of your head.

“You’re so excited for wine, Suguru.” You whisper, and you know you fuck with him, he knows you’re aware of the affect you have on him, when you look at him like that under your lidded gaze. “You haven’t gone without drinking, why are you so excited?”

“I’ve gone without drinking alright…” His insinuation makes your cheeks heat up, a blush in the dark, quiet hallway. Although Suguru did have a maids, a cook and a nanny to help you, the home was far quieter than it was with a whole fucking cult living in it. It was much more intimate, private, even though it was hard for you both to get time together alone.

A lot of times, you were exhausted, but you’re wide awake now. All you can do is think about how badly you want him, the most you all have done is months was him toying your clit till you came, and you sucking him down your throat last week when you two had woken up.

He’d been ready to ‘drink you’ last night when the baby started crying, and he’d waited for you to come back only to find you crashed in the rocking chair with Noa. He’d almost had that damn taste on his tongue, but he knows how devoted you are, and fuck he was too, but if he didn’t get to fuck her soon, he was going to lose his fucking mind. 

He tilts your chin up with two fingers, his hair falling softly against your skin as he leans down, eyeing your lips. “What wine do you want, Princess?” He asks, at your command, fuck Suguru is practically ready to kiss your feet if you just let him sink inside you again.

The entire pregnancy until right about the end he’d not left you alone, you were too beautiful, your tits leaking milk, your hips widening to have his baby, the roundness of your tummy, every single mark the baby left. He couldn’t stop devouring you the entirety of it, couldn’t control how sexy you were pregnant, and you’re so beautiful now.

“Some red wine, Sugu. Please.” The nickname always destroys him, he almost falters and just fucks you right in this hallway, instead trying to hold himself together and nodding, gesturing for you to follow.

You both walk slowly to the kitchens, where he opens up one of the wine fridges, and pulls out a bottle of your favorite, one you have had one sip on right after the baby as a little treat. Your cute little squeal of excitement makes him laugh in amusement, pouring you a glass as you watch the dark red liquid swirl.

“Don’t drink too much, you’re gonna be so wasted from like two sips.”

“Will not be! Gimme.” You snatch it up, fingers brushing against his, igniting sparks through the both of you, your eyes meeting his, dark violet in the dimly lit kitchens, he doesn’t let go until you pull back, taking a shaky breath. “Mmm!”

“Yummy?” He pours his own glass, eyeing you over it, the look filling your tummy with more heat than the wine pouring down your throat could, warming you all over.

“So yummy.” You step closer, sipping the sweet liquid, some of it slipping across your lips, and he groans.

“Fuck this.” He sets your glass down and you gasp.

“Excuse me, rude! I can’t have a glass after having your baby?”

“You can have a whole fucking bottle later.” You’re lifted right on the counter, making you so dizzy at how quickly he’s got you lifted, letting out a shaky breath when he slides up the silk of your yukata, watching goosebumps rise against your skin with every inch revealed. “I think I need a drink first.”

“Sugu- ah!” He’s bent down as you’re spread wide on the kitchen counter, kissing a hot messy trail up your thighs, cock throbbing under his robes, already leaking precum just inhaling the scent of your cunt. Your head falls back, revealing your pretty throat as you cry out, arching your hips. “F-fuck…”

“Gonna cum from my breath, huh? Pathetic.” You scowl now, kicking at him with your foot, but he just catches it, smirking up at you as he leans up, his lips a breath against yours, fingers brushing over your bare cunt, and groaning. “No panties, were you wanting this?”

“Of course I w-was, you think I wanted wine?” He moans, slamming his lips against yours, fingers running up and down your slit, your clit twitches when he focuses there, running in circles and making you close just from that. You cling to his silk robes, soft and thick under your fingers, while his tongue starts trailing across your neck, tickling and making you wetter.

“I can’t wait to fuck this perfect cunt again, make you remember that she’s fucking mine.” He’s back down between your thighs as your head rests against the cabinets, uncomfortable as the marble counter is cold under your ass, but all you can think is more.

“Show me then.” He moans softly, on his knees now, so fucking tall he’s counter height to your cunt, and your hands enwrap in his soft raven locks when he presses a hot kiss right against your cunt, watching as you jerk, breathing against you.

“Keep it quiet, slutty little princess, huh?” You nod weakly, fuck it’s been so long since he’s spoken to you like that, since he’s worshipped you like this, and you don’t think you can ever got this long again, not when his tongue laps at your honeyed arousal, making you scream out against your palm. “Fuck… taste your cunt, god she’s so wet f’me, huh?”

“Yes…” You weakly whisper, pulling your hand back just to slam it on your mouth again, the manor you live in is huge but you still don’t want to be that noisy, though it’s damn near impossible as his long tongue slides inside your gummy walls, curling up and making you almost cum from that. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Mnh…” He’s lost then, lost in your taste, in the way your cunt drools down his face, hot and sweet as he drinks it all in, slurping you up while you shatter for him, falling apart with every flick and swirl of his tongue. Your legs start to tremble and he grabs them, spreading them wider, and you can feel your orgasm building up, his teeth nibbling on your clit as you try to keep quiet.

“G-going to cum!” You whisper, but it’s too late, your cunt clenched around his tongue, walls quivering while he curls it up, his nose now hitting your clit, and you let out a muffled scream, eyes rolling back into your head as you cum. “Suguru!”

“That’s it,” he’s sliding his tongue out, sticking two fingers instead, you gasp at the thick, long digits in your cunt, untouched for months, the stretch making you hiss. Your hips are bucking against the counter while he looks up under dark lashes, licking your cunt off his lips. “Another, you can, can’t you princess?”

You nod weakly, and he’s curling those fingertips up against your spongy spot, making you blinded, back down there lapping at your clit and feeling you tighten all around him, that pressure a telltale sign that you’re gonna cum so much for him. “Ah!” You cry out again, biting your lower lip so hard while your head slams the cabinet and you gush down him, orgasm rocking you in waves. “Sugu, too much!”

“You can take more, won’t you be a perfect slut for me? You know you wanna cum again and again. Wanna drown me with all that cum, huh?” His words and their tone fuck you up almost as much as his breath on your clit, while he holds you there, his tongue flicking until your legs finally stop shaking and you collapse, breathing weakly, hands tugging at his hair, burning his scalp.

“Please, fuck me Sugu. God, I need it in me.” Your plea is not going to be denied, not when Suguru almost came from just licking you. He kisses you again, letting you taste your sweetness off his mouth, burying his hands in your hair before picking you up, and you cling to his neck, legs wrapped around him.

“You want it in you, huh?” You just nod weakly, letting him carry you to the room you two share, in moments he has the yukata untied.

“Want it, want it in me so bad- ngh!” Suguru has bared your skin to his gaze, your body swathed in moonlight, for a moment you cover up just a bit, your tummy isn’t the same, and he’s not seen you too much since, earning his glare, as he grips your wrists and eases your arms down.

“You’re as beautiful as the first moment I saw you, so beautiful you made me question if you had some fucking power over me.” He says softly then, easing your worry, a hand brushing over a glimmery mark from Noa, slipping over to your hip and gripping it firmly, watching you tremble in pleasure. “The most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen, got it?”

You nod weakly, swallowing emotions as you quickly untie his robes, revealing his toned, perfect body, your hands shake as they touch his chest, feeling his strong muscles under your fingers. “You’re beautiful, too.”

“Shh.” He picks you up now, cock hard and heavy, already leaking precum when he picks you up, lifting your thigh as you sink into the bed, over the dark purple and gold silk covers, the black canopy enveloping the two of you in darkness. The incense lit earlier still linger in the air, mixing with the scent of Suguru, which makes you need him even more.

“Please, please…” You never beg, he wants to smirk down at you and gloat his victory, but he can't. All he can do is slide his tip right on your slit, groaning as he presses in, feeling your heat wrapping his cock.

“Fucking feel you, so tight, god. Slutty cunt is soaked, all for me?” You nod weakly, and then he thrusts his cock all the way inside to the fucking hilt, and you can’t bite back your scream, thankful the room is so far from the girls now, as he watches you and moans, sliding out and back in. “That’s it, she wants it so much, she’s so fucking greedy huh?”

“Shut up and f-fuck me- ah!” Suguru glares as he does just that, and you would smile at getting him all mad if you weren’t close to cumming from being so full, so stretched by his thick veiny cock.

“Talking shit? You’re still such a brat, tsk.” He’s raised your thighs then, bending you in a way you don’t think you can anymore, pausing when you whine out. “Here okay?” He asks softly, for a moment, then when you nod his sweetness is over, and Suguru Geto is fucking you hard, sure strokes that fuck your brain up until it can’t even function.

He knows it too, as he fucks into you, watching you shatter for him, balls slapping against your ass so heavy, so full of his seed ready to pump inside your eager hole, and you’re begging to be filled by him as he moves. Harder and harder, pressing your thighs further against you until he’s got you in a mating press, and you’re clinging to his biceps, nails digging in.

“That’s it, cum again, let me fucking feel you milk me, huh?” He’s nasty like this, filthy words flowing from his lips like poetry, and all you can do is nod - a girl who once said ‘fuck you’ is now saying-

“Fuck me, fuck me, please, yes!”

And Suguru delights in it, making his pretty wife a mess under him, feeling the hips that are wider from having his babies, seeing your breasts squish, a little milk leaking from them, and then he loses it. “Perfect cunt, she’s ready for all this cum, isn’t she?”

“Mnnnhh - ah! Suguru!” You’re unable to answer when he’s holding your thighs up and slamming his cock until you’re drooling, incoherent.

“Asked you - hah - a question, princess,” he has the audacity to say, in between heavy breaths, all you can do is cry out, as he holds back then, just when you’re about to cum, making you whine out. “Answer.”

“You’re such a - ah! - dick I swear, just lemme cum!” You’re digging your nails in his back so hard you leave marks, and he hisses, but you just turn him on more, making him fuck into you brutally now, pinning you under him so you can’t even squirm.

“Answer me.”

“No!”

“Now.”

“Fuck- ngh! Yes, yes, lemme cum, fuck!” He slams his cock deep and rolls his hips now, letting you finally cum all around him, milking his cock with your greedy cunt, he leans down and kisses you, swallowing your every sweet cry.

“That’s it, she wants all that cum, huh?” You nod weakly, tears of pleasure sneaking from the corners of your eyes, and then he pumps you full, moaning and entwining his hands with yours as the cum pulses so deep, and the two of you struggle to catch your breath. “Fuck, princess, taking me so good, huh? Made for me…”

“Mmhmm…” You’re breathless and exhausted when Suguru pulls back, kissing down and across your chest. The two of you lay there for a while each recovering, laughing, and tickling each other’s skin with gentle touches, grinning.

It’s so perfect here with him in this moment. All of the pain feels like a lifetime ago, not forgotten, but long, long forgiven.

“I’m never going this long without your perfect cunt again.” He touches your clit, making you jerk, laughing as he sucks your cum and his off his finger, moaning and kissing you again.

“I don’t wanna go that long either.” You sigh, kissing up his cheek now. “You know, I was thinking…” you trail off, slipping kisses across Suguru’s sweat slicked chest, he moans, his cock so sticky with cum pulsing again just at that, while his hand runs up and down your back.

“Should I fuck you again, so you can’t think?” He raises an arrogant dark brow, and you narrow your eyes, making him chuckle. “What?

“Well… I was thinking we should visit him.”

“VIsit who? Fuck…” You kiss at the base of his neck, making him tug you onto him, straddling his waist, cunt still coated and dripping his white milky liquid pouring down his dark happy trail, pooling in his flat belly button. He rubs your clit again, watching your eyes dilate, your hips shift. “God, look at the mess you’re making.”

“Mmhmm, but I mean visit Satoru.” Suguru’s scowl makes you giggle, he’s unreasonably jealous that you and Satoru stayed friends. It’s occasional calls, but he’s always mad as fuck afterward.

“Why are we bringing up Satoru when you’re dripping cum on me?” He slips you down, grabbing your hips now, thumbs pressing against the lines that Noa left, eyes feasting on your pretty body. “Look at you, fuck you’re perfect.”

“Am not even.”

“You are so perfect. C’mere.” He yanks you down now, your hair falling across his chest, as he cups your face with one hand, the other making you grind on him. You cry out at the contact, earning his smirk. “Shut you up.”

“N-no! I think it would be good f-for you- you’re distracting me!?”

“Sure am.” You pull up and scowl, so adorable he melts like he always does, sighing as he stares up at you in the dark night. “Fine, we can visit him.”

“Yay! It’ll be good for you, your friend seeing you again. I know it.”

“Yeah yeah, we’ll talk about that after I put another baby inside you.” You gasp then, when he’s lifted you, dragging you right back down his length, filling you in one quick stroke, making you scream out, shaking as the burn hits, feeling so fucking good when he bottoms out in your cunt, loud, wet and messy. He bites that lower lip, lashes lowering, while you struggle to breathe.

“You use your cock to distract me, huh?” He answers with a smirk, slamming his cock up inside you then, you cling to his chest, while his hands drift you your hips, and your cunt is spasming. “No more babies yet.”

“Sure, Princess, whatever you say.” You both glare at each other, before they turn into faces of pleasure, before joking little teases morph into cries and moans, before he’s filled you up again, and again, until you’re collapsed against him, so weak and worn out.

You don’t believe him one bit when he’s waking you up and fucking into you, cumming inside you so much your tummy is full of him, not when he grips your chin with that feral look in his fucking eyes - no, Suguru Geto does want more babies, and you can’t say you mind. Not when having his baby was the best thing that happened, and not when you aren’t dying to give him more.

“I love you, Princess.” He murmurs, stroking you from behind, you gasp and arch your back, whining into his kisses.

“I love you, Suguru.” And you fall again, into the arms of a man that once was a monster, but now was simply…

Your Suguru.

Ahhh so if you read both ends, I hope you enjoyedd, if you only read this I also hope you enjoyed. I initially only planned the bittersweet end, but I enjoyed writing this SO MUCH. Thanks for everyone who stuck around and commented and shared your thoughts on this story. See you in the othersss <3

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[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: light daddy kink Flashback to the first time Captain Riley met Raspberry girl.

The bakery is slow. 

He’s only been coming here for a few days, but he’s already figured out the best time to stop by so he can avoid the crowd. Before eight hundred, it’s always packed, too many people in line for tea, coffee, breakfast, pastries, half of them headed to base, the other half to somewhere else. 

He starts his day early, and then swings out here for a mid morning breakfast, or coffee, depending on how his day has gone. Usually, it’s filled with paperwork and overseeing training exercises, all of it as boring as the next. He welcomes the reprieve of a pastry, a togo container closed over a massive raspberry sweet roll (or two) that he usually eats in truck before he makes it back to base. It’s hard to leave it alone when it’s sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for him. He fucking dreams about things at this point, their sweet dough and cream cheese icing, raspberry jam, he assumes, swirled in every layer. If he’s lucky, he arrives just after or before a new batch is brought out, and they’re still hot. 

A few tables are occupied inside, people with headphones in clicking away on laptops, or casually chatting over a tea. It’s never too quiet here which he appreciates, there’s always music flowing, and noise coming from what he assumes is the kitchen, hidden behind a typical swing door you’d see in any restaurant. 

The familiarity is comfortable. There are no surprises, usually. 

Except today, something new catches his eye. 

You. 

You’re holding a plate of flaky pastries of some kind, standing at the edge of the counter. Mara, the girl who usually works the register, makes coffees and teas, plates or packages things from the case, is giving you her full attention as you speak. 

You stun him. Perfect from head to toe, beautiful in a way that’s making him believe you were created just for him. 

A possessive pulse pounds under his jaw. Locked in just at the sight of you. 

“They have nuts in them. Almonds. But they’re sl-slivers, so they’re just… they’re hard to see. So uh… make sure I guess, that people know?” 

“Okay, I’ll put it on the sign.” She holds the little placard up and you nod approvingly. 

“Right.” Like you’ve been holding your breath this entire time, your chest deflates shakily. Gun shy. Anxious. Fearful. 

Precious thing. 

That craving inside him perks up, hones in. Heat seeking missile. 

For once, it’s not only sexual. Not only about keeping someone for the night, the morning, putting all his energy and care into them just to cut that cord, close himself off and send them on the way. 

No. This is different. This is more. 

“Can I get one of those to go?” The guy waiting at the counter in front of him points to the plate. “Almond croissants, right?” You tense. There’s a lapse, and he can see your gears turning, sifting, before finally settling on something. 

“Sure?” 

“Sure I can get one, or sure they’re almond croissants.” You flinch. It would be hardly noticeable to someone else, but to him, it reveals another piece of the puzzle. You picked the wrong thing. He knows could soothe this burn, honor these parts of you that don’t seem to fit in, keep your mind, your heart, safe. Love you in the ways you desperately need. 

“Oh. Yes.” You nod, sliding one into the bag and pushing it across the counter as Mara cashes the man out, only looking up once he’s turned to leave. 

It only takes a second before you’re locking eyes with him. 

You freeze, and swears there’s a whisper of a whimper. Mara gives you a curious look, and then follows your line of sight right to him, her mouth quirking to the side in a small smile. Your hands clasp together at your waist, fingers interwoven. Immediately, they clench around one another so tight, he wonders if it’s hurting you. He wants to pull them apart, cover them with his own, hold them. Hold you. 

His instincts are churned up. They scream at him, trying to run away with a fantasy of a future. 

He thinks briefly of John and Grace, his old captain’s little blueberry pie, a sweet girl watching a movie and curled up on her daddy’s lap. His jealously is not from a desire of Grace herself, but of the relationship, the life John has carved out for himself, the purpose, the control, the ability to tend and care for someone who can give themselves so endlessly, be so trusting they let all their defenses go and fully let go. The love.

He’s never thought it was the right time for him, but now he knows he was wrong. It was never about the right time. 

It was always about finding you. 

Mara must see something, because she clears her throat and says your name, nodding in his direction. 

“This is Captain Riley.” Military brat, she knows the rank of every uniformed person who sets foot in here, and always addresses them as such. You gulp. 

“It’s n-nice to meet you.” Mara fills the gap quickly, nonchalantly, trying to ease your discomfort. 

“Captain Riley is the one who buys out all the raspberry rolls.” You brighten. 

“Really?” His chuckle rumbles in this throat. 

“Really. Think I eat two or three a day now." He pats his stomach, and you grin, before it gets lost immediately, unsure, glancing at the ground. 

“G-good, That’s… I’m glad.” It’s enough of a starting point. He can’t push too hard. You’re already trembling, looking up at him now, both with trepidation and wonder. Mara’s boxed up his order, quietly placing it in front of you, and you’re careful when you pick it up, handing it over like you’re handling a bomb, lips parting when he touches you. He forces the contact, intentionally brushing his fingers against yours, pleased when there’s an immediate reaction, a sharp inhale, a bob of your throat. He gives you a very gentle smile. 

“Thank you sweetheart.” Your eyes go incredibly wide, and you squeak. 

“You’re welcome!” He’s unable to get another word out fast enough before you’re practically running into the kitchen, door swinging wide enough for him to see just inside, eyes like saucers, nervous smile stretched across your face, your hands brushing your apron repeatedly, even though the batter and flour crusted on it doesn’t move. 

Precious, sweet little girl. 

You need someone to take care of you. Someone who will carve out space for you to exist, without fear. Someone who will understand your needs and instead of trying to force you to go where you don’t fit, they’ll protect you, encourage you, hold your hand. Someone who will build you a castle, a fortress, an entire world, just so you can be yourself, be happy as yourself, not a person the world wants to change. 

You need him. 

You need a daddy. 

[jaylaxies]

CALL ME WHEN YOU HATE ME LESS

PAIRING: lee jeno x fem!reader (ft. jaehyun and jaemin)

GENRE/CW: smut, angst, eventual fluff, porn with plot, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, choking, blowjob, using panties as a gag, spitting, edging, squirting, mentions of fighting, blood, usage of nicknames, slowburn if you squint, emotional trauma, lmk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT: 18,321 words. (18.3k)

PLAYLIST: here.

SYNOPSIS: Jeno Lee was a walking academic hazard—hot, broody, and failing just about everything that wasn’t football. Enter you, his new tutor: organized, overachieving, and absolutely not here for his attitude or his annoyingly perfect jawline. But between late-night study sessions, petty insults, and one very inconvenient almost-kiss, things start spiraling—fast. He’s supposed to be you project. You are supposed to hate him. Instead, you both are one sarcastic comment away from either a breakdown or a makeout—and honestly, it could go either way.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni (the full fic will include smut).

A/N: hihi, angels! i'm finally back with a jeno fic aaa thank you my girls @jaeminvore @hoondrop @gojosmojodojo for giving me ideas and listening to me losing my shit over this fic <333 i hope y’all enjoy reading it <33 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

Chapter 1: Raised in Shadows, Told to Shine. 

Comparison. 

The core of all insecurities. The onset of overthinking. The path to self loathing. 

That’s what comparison does to a person—drive them to the edge of insanity in hopes of turning into something; into someone the others will look up to, compare themselves to. 

It was a bad thing per se, but it was motivation enough for Jeno to work harder in order to leave the country, to get away from his family. 

The reason? His mother ever so conveniently happened to have fallen in love with a rich guy, someone who never knew what struggle meant, and Jeno was just four back then. It didn’t take much time for him to settle into the lifestyle, however, no matter how much he could have prepared to face his step-brother, he simply couldn’t bother looking him in the eye. 

Why? Because he was known to be the epitome of perfection. Jung Jaehyun was the son every parent wanted, the student every teacher was fond of, the doctor every nurse wanted to work with. 

The sweet dimple on his cheek was a great asset in melting the hearts of everyone in his proximity or afar. 

Jeno on the other hand, wasn’t quite sure why he wasn’t considered to be enough, especially when he got decent grades throughout his school life, he wasn’t a bother, kind to those who were around them, but it changed. 

It changed when he got daily reminders of how he wasn’t even close to how amazing and successful his step brother was. 

That’s when things started looking down for Jeno. He stopped caring about the grades, he wasn’t sure why he was supposed to put up a I’m so good, so smart act in front of others when there was no reason for him to do that. 

Others didn’t bother doing the same for him. 

Rather, he tried to work upon the only thing he was passionate about, the only thing that mattered to him—football. 

Despite winning several trophies for playing the sport, his parents labelled it to be useless, which broke the last fragment of his heart, shattering it to the point of no return. 

Which would explain his current demeanor—moody, permanent scowl on his perfectly sculpted face and no care for the others around him. His sole focus being football, which is also the reason behind his current dilemma. 

“Being an excellent player in the sports team does not guarantee you your scholarship, Mr. Lee,” Jeno’s teacher incharge spoke up, taking off her specs right after reviewing his annual grade report, “you’re failing three out of five modules, and if you don’t start getting back on track soon, then I’m afraid you won’t be able to play in the team anymore.” 

Fuck. 

Jeno had been neglecting his studies, he admits, yet he never thought that he’d reach this point. It’s not that he wasn’t smart, he simply had no motivation to go on with his studies. His parents could easily pay the university to keep him around, however, he wanted nothing from them, which also explains why he got himself a scholarship in the first place. 

“I’m sorry if I’m late.” Jeno’s eyes snapped wide open, turning back to see his step brother entering the teacher’s cabin. 

“Why are you here?” Jeno asked, a muscle in his jaw twitching but Jaehyun only smiled. 

Jeno’s professor was equally stunned, probably even more with her jaw wide open at the appearance of such a handsome young man. 

“I called him in since your parents were busy,” his professor said, handling Jeno a letter, “go and find your tutor in the council room, she’ll be helping you with the upliftment of your grades, Mr. Lee, and now if you’ll excuse us, I’ve got to fill in your brother with your current situation,” she said the last part awfully sweetly as Jaehyun sat down in one of the vacant chairs, smiling at her kind tone. 

Jeno scoffed, the demeanor change around Jaehyun went crazy and he wasn’t a fan of it, especially when he was called in to complain about his mistakes. 

He simply wanted to leave the university and never come back. 

He waited, taking deep breaths before punching the wall, not being able to contain his anger. The impact did hurt, yet he paid no heed to it, the blood dripping as he walked towards the council room to get over with the day. 

The name written on the sheet wasn’t unfamiliar to him, rather it only wearied the already infuriated boy as he knocked on the door of the student council room, which was empty except for you sitting there, working on a few papers which appeared to be the newsletter for the month. 

“Come in,” you allowed, not looking up as Jeno made his way inside the room, observing the surroundings where he’s never been before. 

Then he looked your way, taking in your appearance. You looked cozy in your university varsity jacket, your specs sitting on your nose as you buried yourself in reading whatever it was that you were reading. He couldn’t deny you looked pretty in a way that’s comforting to eyes. 

With no words exchanged, he pushed the letter towards you, which finally made you look up at the source of disturbance, your eyebrows raising slightly as you most certainly did not expect the star football player to visit you in the council room, which he’s never been to before. 

He simply stood there, hands shoved into his pockets while still looking around, and you took a second to grab the letter, skimming over to read and understand that the letter was given by Mrs. Kim, the teacher in charge of your department, requesting you to take up the few teaching sessions you had applied for, Jeno being the student you’ll have to teach for the same. 

You clicked your tongue, folding the letter exactly as it was before pushing it his way, your arms folding across your chest as you finally spoke up, “I reject. I don’t wish to teach you.”

His eyes were quick to snap towards you, finally staring right into your own eyes, irritation clear as he pushed his tongue on his inner cheek, eyebrow raised. 

“Aren’t you supposed to kiss your professor’s feet, given that you’re in student council? And here I thought you’d be a good girl.” Jeno rasped, resting his arms on your table, leaning down to your level. 

You chuckled, expecting the exact response from him, “this is exactly why I don’t want to waste my time on you—you athletes don’t wish to study, you just require a passing grade, for which I don’t have time to spare.” 

“What the fuck do you mean waste your time?” 

“Lee Jeno, you’ve got more money with you than your bank account can handle, so I’m sure losing your scholarship won’t do you much harm,” you said with a sickening smile, “you’ve got no interest in studying, your attendance record states that oh so proudly.” 

“You don’t know shit about me,” Jeno seethed out, messy hair strands falling over his eyes. 

“I know everything I need to know about you. Now excuse me, unlike you, I actually have work to do,” you said, passing him a tight lipped smile, not letting the proximity faze you. 

“You—” 

Jeno’s sentence was cut short with two sharp knocks on the slightly ajar door, a head peeking in, successfully garnering your attention. You could feel your mood doing one eighty with the sudden intrusion of this stranger—whom you didn’t wish to be a stranger around anymore, your eyes softening, lips parting as you stared at him in awe. 

Meanwhile, if Jeno thought that the day was done being a bitch to him, then he was wrong because the level of irritation that bubbled up in him the moment he saw the change in your expressions. 

“Sorry to interrupt, may I get in?” Jaehyun asked, smiling his usual dimpled smile, which had you swooning in record time. 

You could practically see veins of frustration popping out on Jeno’s neck, “no. Your work is done, you should head back home,” he groaned, but Jaehyun only looked you way, continuing to get in, looking your way. 

“I’m Jaehyun, Jeno’s elder brother. I can’t thank you enough for agreeing on giving him tutoring lessons, especially with how busy you must be with council duties,” he spoke up, shaking your hand, which was smaller in his warm, big hands. 

Jeno scoffed, “she’s not—”

“Of course, Jaehyun! It’s my pleasure to help him out, and it’ll only help me better with my extracurricular credits! It’s no problem,” you nodded, a gentle smile on your face as your eyes practically twinkled with excitement, taking in the beauty that Jaehyun beheld. 

It was ridiculous. 

It was absurd how just two sentences; paired with a sweet smile from his brother, were enough for you to change your decision, in the span of two seconds at that. 

He tightened the hold he had on the strap of his black bag, “no fucking need. I’ll find another tutor,” Jeno deadpanned, walking out of the room, not paying attention to Jaehyun who called out his name in the background. 

He wouldn’t let you use him to get to his brother. 

With that thought, he decided to detour and make his way to the gym, trying to blow off steam by practicing punching, each one getting progressively stronger as his mind replayed the difference in your behaviour when it came to him and his brother. 

It didn’t bother him that his knuckles were bruising, he knew he needed this extrinsic pain to get rid of the obvious hurt he felt each day. 

And he couldn’t understand why he felt so affected by your actions, especially when it was the first time you had met. 

Jealousy was indeed a bitch. 

Chapter 2: Surrendered to the skirt. 

Two days passed by and Jeno’s mood showed no progress in terms of improving, rather, he felt worse each time the memory invaded his brain. He tried his best to sit down and open the first module of the unit he had to study. 

It’s not like he was bad at studying, he was just a bit out of practice, and well, his mental health wasn’t doing much to help him get any better. 

Just when he was about to actually get a hang of getting into the topic, the doorbell rang. His parents were out for business, as usual, and his step brother was busy doing morning shifts, which meant that he was alone at the mansion, minus the myriad of worker staff they had to take care of the place. 

Essentially, he had to get down to see who it was at the door, only to spot you leaning against the doorframe as one of the attendants had asked you to wait. He stopped, observing you from the staircase as you typed something on your phone. 

Why were you here after clearly rejecting him? Why were you here when he’s clearly told you he doesn’t want you to be his tutor?

Scoffing, he walked down the stairs and towards you, standing right in front of you, clearly invading your personal space as he decided to lean against the same side of the thick door frame with his brows raised.

You took a second to take in his appearance as he was clad in casual gray sweatpants with a black tank, which honestly did nothing to hide his muscles. 

“Why are you here?” Jeno asked with a bored tone. 

“I’m here to teach you, remember?” You gave him a pointed look. 

“And I clearly told you I don’t wish to study from you, it’s better if you leave now. I’ll just tell Mrs. Kim that you taught me,” he said, almost turning back to go inside. 

“And have them wondering how you failed even after getting tutored by me? Yeah, I don’t think so,” you shook your head, inviting yourself in without second thoughts. 

“Y/n, I’m not fucking kidding, you should leave. Besides, the one you came for isn’t at home at the moment,” he muttered bitterly. 

That caught your attention, “oh? Busy with a job then?” You asked, looking around the exquisite paintings hung at the entrance of his place. 

“Are you gonna leave or do I have to call the guards to escort you out?”

You chuckled, “you really don’t want the previous year questions I have? The council students get them each year you see, they’re bound to guarantee you good marks,” you explained with a smirk. 

Jeno groaned, his lip bitten as he tried to think if tolerating you would be worth the questions, but his football career was at stake and there was no better option but to accept it. 

“What’s the catch?” Jeno asked after a few seconds, sighing with defeat. 

“Nothing at all. We both know that you need these papers to get the grade that you wanna achieve and I’ll get my extra credits,” you reason. 

“You just wanna meet my brother,” he said dryly, “either way, you won’t get to see a lot of him, he’s always at the hospital, working and being the perfect son he is. Plus, he’s definitely not into uni students,” he looked you up and down, soon gulping and looking elsewhere. 

You were clad in a pretty skirt which showed off your legs—which you did wear in hopes of crossing paths with Jaehyun, but you completely missed how Jeno was staring at your body. 

He wasn’t sure if it was out of hatred that he stared at you, or it was admiration because you were one of those people he despised—overachievers.  

You were in the student council, got good grades and professors favoured you, it wouldn’t be a surprise if your parents loved you for being the ideal daughter. It most certainly didn’t help that your appearance seemed as if you were the sweetest, kindest angel on earth, which wasn’t the case when you were around Jeno though. 

“I’ll manage,” you shrugged, “so, I need your final word, Mr. Lee.”

“I am sure I can find better tutors than you,” he raised his brows, challenging you and you didn’t look fazed at all. 

“I am quite literally the best, professor Kim asked me to tutor you for a reason, besides, no one’s gonna agree to help you out with exams being only one month away,” you made your point, extending your hand for him to finalize his decision. 

Overconfidence. He sighed. 

Jeno stared at your extended hand, thinking of the bigger picture here. He’d get tutoring and would be able to score decent grades if he gets back to his usual routine of studying. 

Downside? He’d have to face you each day. 

Sighing and keeping his feelings in check, he simply nodded, taking your smaller hand into his as he accepted the offer, suddenly aware of the warmth of your palm and how it leaves a tingling feeling behind as you shake his hand firmly with a smirk. 

“So, where are we gonna study?” 

Chapter 3: Silent room, a loud mind. 

Turns out, it’s not that easy to sit down and just teach Jeno. 

Given the amount of classes he had missed, or rather, the amount of classes he had managed to attend, it was clear that he didn’t even have the basic idea of the syllabus for the semester modules. 

Moreover, you had already pissed him off by mentioning how you didn’t expect him to have such a clean and organized room, as if you had already decided that he was going to be a messy human. 

Moving forward, you both sat down next to each other with your laptop open in front of you as you made him write down all the topics he needed to cover for the next month, forming a sort of timetable of a kind. 

It was surprisingly peaceful between you two, as if you both wished to get over with it as soon as possible, behaving as civilly as you could but there was this one thing that Jeno couldn’t stop doing. 

Overthinking. 

It’s the way you looked his way with disappointed and concerned filled eyes whenever he messed up, the way his jaw clenched when you told him to do better, the way he couldn’t help but stare at your glossed up lips as you looked around his room, eyes settling on his childhood pictures which were framed. 

It was also new to him to actually interact with people outside of his football team, especially girls. He couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to one. He wondered what was going on in your mind, he wondered if you were silently judging him through it all.

That’s all what people in his life did anyway. 

“You were cute as a kid, what happened to you now?” You joked, chuckling as you looked his way, only to find his mouth slightly agape.

He hadn’t expected you to say that, and he certainly didn’t want to retort back with something that would ruin his mood, “I grew up to be hot is what happened to me,” he replied smoothly. 

“Oh, so you do know how to joke around,” you raised your brows in surprise. It was indeed the image he had formed over the years. The image of him being nothing more than a rude jock who wouldn’t even reply to someone nicely. 

Now that you were actually interacting with him, you were going to find out how many of the rumors were true about him. 

He only leaned closer at your statement, you could see his muscles flexing as he rested one arm on the table in front of you both, “it’s not a joke, love. I am hot.”

You scoffed at the term of endearment, suddenly aware of his scent now that he was so close to you, “and egoistic too,” you helpfully added. 

“Rightfully so.”

Your childish argument was interrupted that very second as the door to Jeno’s room swung open, revealing the exact man you came to see. 

Jaehyun was smiling, dressed in black slacks and a button up shirt as he welcomed you here, and you were quick to notice Jeno’s mood turning fowl that very second. 

“Thank you so much for coming here, Y/n. Let me send a few snacks and drinks for you both while you study,” he smiled, and you rushed up to stand, not even bothering about the pen that fell down as you did so. 

“Jaehyun,” you walked up to him, much to Jeno’s dismay, “oh, you don’t have to do anything,” you smiled sweetly, and he only shook his head softly, grabbing your arm. 

“Don’t worry about it, just sit and relax, okay?” He squeezed your arm, going downstairs and you sighed with a smile. Even his scent was perfect to you. 

“You done daydreaming?” Jeno asked, deadpanning once his brother had left. 

“You done solving the question?” You retorted. 

He sighed, as if his energy was drained already, “yeah, just check and get this over with,” he said, handing you the binder and looking elsewhere. 

It was probably the first time you actually paid attention to his dejected tone, as if he didn’t have the energy to fight back, and you obviously didn’t wish to irk him more, especially when he looked so frustrated right now. Thankfully, a lot of his answers were indeed correct, which was another surprise to you. 

He was smart, he just simply didn’t wish to study. 

“Something wrong?” He asked, cocking his brow and you blinked, “you’re actually not as dumb as you portray yourself to be,” you mumbled, checking everything thoroughly. 

It should’ve been insulting to Jeno per se, but even the slightest amount of approval was a big thing for him, causing the corner of his lips to curl up. He felt insane, the amount of emotions he felt in a single day was perhaps the reason for the same, courtesy of you. 

He was glad Jaehyun didn’t enter the room again, sending in a servant staff to give you the snacks instead, which maintained the peace throughout the session. 

You couldn’t help but notice how well he concentrated once there was silence in the room, your eyes focused on his hand gripping the pen, making it seem more veiny than it already was. 

Also, you didn’t miss the hint of a smile ghosting his face when you told him he did a good job right before leaving, which made you think of a few things, one being— 

He looked beautiful with a smile. 

Chapter 4: You can’t read my mind, so read my lips. 

As much as Jeno loved the comfort of his room, he really wanted to avoid you bumping into Jaehyun again.

Even the thought of your interactions, your fake sweet smiles, made him wanna punch the wall. Jaehyun really had it easy and Jeno never understood why, it was no joke that Jeno was decent looking as well, talented in his own way, and a kind hearted person who just happened to have a protective wall around him so as to not get hurt any further. 

Which is why you had been tutoring him in the library from the past ten sessions, his own personal request to avoid having privacy with you. 

Heck, even Jeno didn’t know it was his own mind trying to protect him, which is why he couldn’t let anyone in, anyone.  

Which made this situation far from ideal as he had you pressed against the library wall, no distance between you both as you closed your eyes in pure distress. 

“What the actual fuck is he doing here?” Your question was directed more to yourself, which confused Jeno further.

He poked his tongue into his cheek, annoyance creeping through, “what the fuck is going on?” He asked. 

“Shhh, not so loud,” you pressed your palm against his mouth, “just hide me.”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrist effortlessly, pinning it above your head, “you don’t tell me what to do, yeah?” He mumbled, flustering you under his gaze before your eyes travelled back to where you were looking initially. 

He sighed in annoyance, looking back at the direction of your supposed fear. 

Na Jaemin. Another of Jeno’s football teammates. 

“Why are you hiding from Jaemin,” he asked, brow raised as he leaned into you. 

“Ugh,” you groaned, “he’s my ex, he shouldn’t even be in the library, he’s never here!” You were stressed and Jeno smirked devilishly. 

“Fucking hell, you’re the girl he keeps on stalking and crying about?” He chuckled, “let me call him,” he turned away for a second. 

You used your free hand to grab his nape, “don’t fucking move,” you mumbled. 

Perhaps you were too harsh with the grabbing, also not calculating the proximity enough, because Jeno’s nose was brushing against yours, lips close to the point of touching, and a low groan escaping his lips as your name rolls out his tongue in the most angry grunt ever, “what the actual fuck are you doing?” 

“J—just let him leave,” you mumbled, gulping and closing your eyes, his mint breath fanning your face as heat crept up your neck, up till your ears. 

“What will I get out of it,” he asked, his free hand resting on your waist now, “why should I help you?”

“I’m literally helping you study, Jeno,” you seethed out.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he groaned, making you open your eyes, staring into his deep ones now, suddenly feeling small under his gaze, and well, his body. 

“What?” you asked, looking away to check if Jaemin had left, pushing Jeno away the second you confirmed it. 

Jeno, however, wasn’t having any of it. 

With a scoff and the shake of his head, he grabbed your wrist again, twisting it behind your back, not putting too much pressure so it just hurt but still made it clear how he would not let you go so easily, “you can’t run from me.”

“Let go, I fucking swear—” you let out, squirming around and pushing him, he didn’t budge at all sadly. 

“You do realize I’m a lot stronger than you, right?” He chuckled. 

“Fuck—what do you want me to do?” You rolled your eyes, jaw clenching as you looked at him. 

Before he could answer, your eyes widened in fear yet again as you yanked his arm so forcefully, he had no chance to balance himself, a yelp leaving his mouth as you ran and he was following right after you. 

Jaemin was back and you could just not deal with his ass anymore, hence the overwhelming response. Fight or flight? Flight for sure. Dragging Jeno into it might be a stretch but hey, whatever helped you run away from the gremlin, right? 

“Y/N,” Jeno hissed yet again, once you stopped by your seat, gathering both yours and his belongings scattered across the table from when you were studying a few minutes back, before getting up to find a book, before seeing Jaemin roaming around the halls of the library. 

It was quite amusing to Jeno if he was being honest, a mix of feelings as you grabbed his wrist effortlessly yet again, your eyes set on the exit door leading to the parking lot where Jeno’s Ferrari Purosangue stood proudly. 

“Get in!” You screamed even though you were far from the threat (read: Jaemin) now. 

“That’s my car in case you forgot—”

“Now.” 

“So fucking annoying—” He grumbled, with a small smile playing on his lips. 

You looked so bothered as if you were chased by Ghostface and not Jaemin, even though you probably wouldn’t run away from the prior. It was comical regardless, the long breath you exhaled once you were comfortable on his premium quality car seat, head leaned back fully. 

You opened your eyes after a few seconds only to find Jeno’s eyes on you, face curved into an amused look. You stared at one another for a second, two seconds, three seconds—and he burst out laughing. 

It was probably the first time you saw him laugh like that—so freely, without any care in this world. It was loud but breathless, making his eyes crinkle with small crescents forming, his perfectly aligned pearly teeth showing as he went on, laughing at your disheveled state and crazy response to everything that happened the past twenty minutes. 

You were calm and composed for the most part, it was rare for you to look this frustrated over anything, which came as a surprise to Jeno, the whole situation seemingly pure comedy to him. 

You observed him so carefully, your own lips twitching into a smile and before you knew it, you were laughing alongside him so normally as if two friends were laughing over a joke. 

A weird sort of warmth spread over your body, it made no sense honestly, you were pinned to the wall just a few minutes back and Jeno looked as if he’d burst into flames with his anger, and now he’s laughing at your disheveled, non-composed state. 

Once Jeno caught you staring back at him with glittering eyes, and a little smile, he froze. It was easy for him to come back to his senses (read: put his walls back up) which only made your smile drop too. It was awkward, both of you looking elsewhere while clearing your throats, definitely not something you expected. 

“Uh—sorry about that, yeah,” you mumbled, playing with the loose threat of your sweater sleeve. 

“Yeah, no problem,” he retorted, turning the car engine on to start driving. 

Why was it awkward? Because you laughed together like two absolutely normal individuals? Because you had Jeno pinning you to the wall to avoid your ex? 

Or because you almost kissed. Almost. 

 The ride back to your apartment was silent, no songs playing in the car, just the small buzz of engine, and the nail tapping on the screen of your phone—to avoid any kind of conversation happening, also clearly missing out on how Jeno glanced at you every few seconds, the speed of his thoughts running faster than his own car. 

“I’ll—see you tomorrow then?” Your voice cracked as you said so, wincing slightly at your own tone. 

Jeno was about to chuckle again, yet he covered it with a low cough as he mumbled a yes, as you opened the door once he stopped in front of your apartment. 

That’s it, you were leaving, and his eyes didn’t leave you till you disappeared into the apartment. 

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, groaning as he banged his head into it, a low horn sound only frustrating him further. It was hard for him to drive after, the scene of you being so vulnerable yet glaring at him like a scared little vixen trying to look brave, replayed in his mind. 

No, he couldn’t drive, couldn’t focus on the road anymore, stopping the car at a random parking lot of a fast food chain, grabbing his phone to pull up Instagram, specifically Jaemin’s account. 

He didn’t have to scroll much to find the picture he was looking for—his teammate, Jaemin, standing right next to you with his arm resting on your waist. Jeno didn’t know why that picture left a bitter taste in his mouth all of a sudden, knowing well how badly Jaemin fucked up when he cheated on you. 

And now the asshole is running after you again. 

You didn’t deserve that, you deserve someone better—someone perfect like you. 

He went back, not having it in him to look at the picture again, instead, going to your account now. It looked professional, all your posts being highly calculative to make your feed look pleasing. Your highlights, however, had this one particular picture—a picture of you smiling without a care in the world, so raw, so genuine, so beautiful. 

Beautiful. 

Jeno thought you looked beautiful, and it made him angry. 

He was angry—because deep down, he desired to be the reason for your smile. 

Chapter 5: Pretty in pink, but my head’s in the dark. 

Jeno made you smile. 

You did know that laugh was contagious, however, you didn’t think you’d actually give in to Jeno’s sweet chuckles. 

Sleep didn’t come to you easy when the constant reminder of the study session poked the back of your mind, not to mention what happened in the library earlier, where you and Jeno almost kissed—

No. 

You shook your head. Such niche experiences never falter you, so why was this such a big deal? 

Another groan left your mouth, but alas, your body was relaxed enough to sleep so you woke up energetic the next day. It felt oddly friendly when you saw Jeno at the University, and he threw a two finger salute your way, you waved back before going your way. 

“You’re zoned out, again.” Karina, one of your classmates, pointed out and you sighed as she rambled about how you needed to let some guy in, quite literally, to blow off some steam, which you clearly weren’t doing, hence the stuck up energy. 

Being descriptive about it didn’t help either—yet another reminder of how Jeno’s body was pressed against yours this hour, yesterday. 

Heat crept up your neck, urging you to pack up and leave the room. It was hot, stuffy almost for you to do anything, which is why you found yourself studying at the empty seat of the University park. 

You had to face him again, of course, there was no escape to that, and as if the universe was testing you, the time passed by way too quickly for your liking and soon, you found yourself standing in front of the main door of Jeno’s place. 

Before you could even ring the bell, the door opened to a huffing Jeno, almost as if he ran downstairs, but how did he know—

“Hey,” he whispered, looking around. 

He didn’t wait for your reply, simply grabbing your wrist and dragging you inside, your skin burning at the unexpected touch, but you didn’t shake him off of you, only asking in a low tone, “what are you doing?” 

“Shh,” Jeno mumbled, as though he was trying to avoid someone, or rather, trying to hide you from someone. His efforts were futile, however, once he heard that stern voice of his mother booming through the walls of his mansion. 

Now you get why Jeno was in a hurry, the look on her face had a chill going down your spine. 

You felt Jeno stiffen alongside you, his hold on your wrist now tighter, uncontrollably so. 

“You must be the new tutor for Jeno,” she said, scrutinizing every bit of your existence, Jeno’s jaw clenched at her unwavering gaze. 

“Yes ma’am, It’s a pleasure meeting you,” you tried to say, only for her to cut you off. 

“Trust me, darling. There must be no pleasure in helping Jeno, but I do hope he learns a thing or two from you—you look like a smart young lady, hopefully, a positive influence on him.” 

You looked at her with your mouth open slightly, not believing the sight in front of you. No mother should look down on their children like that, ever. 

“Mrs. Jung, I hope we’re talking about the same Jeno because he is amazing at studies, he grasps concepts faster than I do, and then I believe I’m the one who’s learning from him right now!” You smiled, full of enthusiasm, feeling Jeno’s hand dropping down from your wrist. 

“In fact, I’ve never seen anyone play football so perfectly while also being so brilliantly academically smart, I firmly believe his grades will shock you this time. Now, if you’ll excuse us, it’s time for our tutoring session.”

You passed her a small smile, the shock clear on her face, before grabbing Jeno’s hand and taking him along with you—to his room. You didn’t look back, simply closing the door as you breathed out with a pissed expression. 

Jeno’s heart was beating fast, he wasn’t sure if he had words to speak at this moment, so staring at you was all he could do. 

You spoke for him. 

You defended him. 

No one’s ever done that, no one cared enough to understand, moreover, it didn’t help how you looked angrier than him at the situation. 

“W—Why?” Jeno couldn’t keep his voice in check, “you didn’t have to—say all that.”

That’s when you turned around, facing him. All your anger disappeared once you focused on his face, so vulnerable, so confused, so desperate to know your answer. 

“Jeno,” the gentleness in your voice only made him gulp and look down at the floor, “I hope you don’t believe a word she says, because that’s not true,” you spoke, inching closer. 

You were not one who was good at making people feel better, Jeno of all people at that, however, this gave you an insight of why Jeno is the way he is—closed off, hence the lack of words from your side, but you knew you had to say it. 

That’s the thing, we judge people too quickly, you always had snarky remarks for him, not knowing how deep they cut him. He looked shaken right now, traumatized, especially because you experienced a part of his life which he never wanted to share with anybody. 

“Jeno, you’re doing so well, you know that right?” You whispered, as genuine as possible, your fingers grabbing his own, which made him look up at you finally. 

He was shaken, not from his mother’s words—he was used to them—but from yours. 

“No one’s ever said that,” he spoke so silently, you almost missed it. You held his hand tight—being almost angrier than him while answering his mom back—he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be over that. 

Jeno didn’t realize his eyes were glistening. 

“What?” You breathed out. 

He gulped yet again, jaw clenched now as he struggled to get his words out, the floor being the most interesting thing to him, “defended me. No one’s done that.”

“I—is that why you hate Jaehyun? Because people only see him?” You asked, wincing at the question when you saw him stiffen again, a sharp pang in your chest once he brushed your hand off of his. 

“Don’t. Don’t fucking go there.”

“I didn’t mean—” 

“Oh I fucking know what you mean. Everyone sees him fuck—you see him, because he’s perfect, right? That’s what he is, perfect,” he seethed out, “you don’t know what it’s like—to live in someone’s shadow,” there was a flash of pain in his eyes. 

You stayed mum, letting him speak. 

“Every place, every room, every fucking person just sees him,” he muttered, “I need to better, but it’s never enough, because he already did it—Jaehyun did it better. You look at him the same way as others do, and me? The afterthought—the failure.”

Your heart broke a little, guilt settling in because unknowingly, you fueled the same anger and trauma for him. 

“Jeno,” you mumbled, “you’re not a failure.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’m starting to,” you spoke, and he looked up, “and thank god you’re not Jaehyun,” you chuckled, fingers ghosting near his jaw, your touch featherlight, making him suck in a deep breath. 

“Why?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, eyes hopeful, which scared him. 

“Because you’re real, you don’t fake your emotions. You don’t smile at somebody who you don’t care about, you get angry, messy, you let yourself be shown how you are,” you lip twitched slightly as you said so, your own heartbeat rose at the sentences you so easily uttered, “that’s what makes you a human, Jeno, a human who’s trying his best, which is what matters.”

He blinked. 

He wanted to speak, but he couldn’t, simply leaning into your touch with his eyes closed. 

“You’re you, the stupid jock who’s not scared of anything, yeah?” You tried to make him smile, which helped as you saw his lips curving up. 

Midway through your sentences, you genuinely questioned yourself about why you even like Jaehyun, it was honestly just your mind playing games with you. 

“You scare me,” he muttered. 

“Why?”

“Because you say things so convincingly, it makes me wanna believe you.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Just—don’t say it when you don’t mean it.”

“I do,” you said in a breath, his eyes on yours now, more intense than ever, “I mean every word.”

He stared a little longer, staring at you unamused as if you’d laugh in his face right this second. You didn’t. 

“You’re serious,” he said, voice hoarse. 

You nodded softly. 

Jeno took a single step forward, the air around you so tight, it felt like a rubber band stretched to its max, on the verge of snapping back. 

You inhaled sharply once Jeno’s cold hand brushed the hair on your shoulder, grazing against your bare skin, moving up your nape. 

“Do you have any idea what you just said to me?” He murmured, eyes locked on yours, turning you around easily to pin you against the wall—something he liked to do, apparently. 

“Tell me,” you mumbled. 

If someone told you two days back that you’d be in Jeno’s room, calming him down before getting into a compromising position with him, you would have laughed in their faces. It was reality for you now, something that made you feel so unconventionally flustered. 

The way he brushed his thumb along your jaw, slow and deliberate, made you shiver, “you’re making me forget that i’m supposed to hate this—feeling anything.” 

You were hanging on the last bit of your sanity, drowning in Jeno’s scent, his nose brushing against your cheek, hand gripping your waist, heat radiating off of your body. 

“Jeno—”

“Say it again,” he whispered. 

“Say what?” You breathed. 

“That you’re glad I’m not him.”

You chuckled under his hold, your voice still shaking, “I’m so glad—so fucking glad you’re not him.” 

His breath sounded like a curse, lips hovering a breath above yours, you could feel his hesitation against your skin. He wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch someone as perfect as you, yet you didn’t stop him, the space in between you was so tight, it might as well elicit electricity. 

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, only leaning into his touch, resting your hand over the top of his on your jaw. The touch was faint, yet you could feel it everywhere. 

You held your breath as he leaned in—

Knock. 

Jeno swore under his breath as you flinched, it physically hurt him to step back. 

“Jeno?” Of course, it was Jaehyun who had to interrupt you two. 

Your hands trembled as Jeno moved to the door, and you quickly turned towards the desk, rushing to sit down, pretending that nothing had happened—that you didn’t almost kiss Jeno a few seconds back. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, eyes furious with a hint of daze in them. “Yeah?” His voice came out strained as he asked Jaehyun through the door. 

“Mom wants to talk to you,” He said.

“Be right down,” he answered, shaking his head, staring at your way one last time, holding eye contact for a second, letting you see just how much he hated this situation, veins popping in his neck.

Then he opened the door, closing it behind him and disappearing from your eyesight. 

You stayed there, overwhelmed, lips tingling, pulse racing. 

A truth burned your skin in an excruciating pain. 

If he had kissed you, you wouldn’t have stopped him. 

Chapter 6: I can go from A to Z, but U is what I want. 

Jeno hadn’t texted you all night. 

Not that you waited, except, you did. 

He never came back to the room after Jaehyun called him out, you waited, till you couldn’t anymore and had to rush out before your mind drove you to the edge of insanity. 

So you grabbed your bag, rushing to the first place you thought of—the courtyard behind the Science block. It was calm, no student in sight, thankfully. 

Your five minutes of calm ended a second too quickly, a voice calling out your name in its full glory. You cursed the universe for treating you like this and you didn’t have to turn around to figure out who it was.

Jaemin. 

“I gotta admit, I didn’t peg you to fall for the broken type.” He stepped out smiling as insane as a villain who hasn’t moved on does. 

“Still stalking me?” You rolled your eyes, “get a fucking job.”

“I call it being invested,” he smirked, shoving hands in his pockets, “it’s honestly a downgrade, going from me to Jeno.”

“Not again,” you muttered, grabbing your book which you had just taken out. 

“I mean, trading me for Jeno?” Voice full of pity. 

“As if you were an option, Jaemin,” you turned sharply. 

That shut him up for half a second.

“I just don’t get it,” he said, voice colder now. “He’s always angry, I was angry, I made you feel something, can he say the same?”

Your head was hurting by now, as you mumbled yet another shut up, only to be stopped by Jaemin as he grabbed your arm. 

“What? He’s the angry, tortured type. You’re into hopeless projects now?”

“I’m into honesty,” you snapped, “something you don’t offer.”

“What does he have that I don’t?”

“Self awareness maybe,” a voice came from behind you, low, cold, almost lethal. 

Jeno was here. 

“Let go of her,” he said, dead-eyed, he was ready to snap. 

And Jaemin did, a scoff leaving his mouth before he smirked, “great, speak of the devil.”

Jeno raised his brow, “you done?”

Jaemin chuckled, “not even close.”

You sighed, “of course not,” this day couldn’t get worse. 

“You really think this is love or whatever?” He said, looking at Jeno but his words were directed to you instead, “he’s gonna burn you someday, and you’re gonna let him.” 

Oh god, you were not having any of this, why was this conversation even happening? It made absolutely no sense. 

Jeno moved faster this time, but you blocked his chest with your arms, “enough,” you said sharply. 

“Ask him to leave.” Jeno said, voice low. 

“Jaemin, just leave,” you said, turning to him. 

But he didn’t, and so Jeno did, shoving past you as you rolled your eyes, Jaemin’s sinister smile only widening, getting so close to him, he had to lean back slightly. 

“Don’t test me, and don’t come near her again, or else I won’t be this patient.” Jeno spoke. 

“Aw? You’re gonna hit me in front of her, Jeno?”

“I don’t need to, she already cut you deeper than I ever could.” 

Jaemin blinked, clenching his jaw, before turning to you, maintaining eye contact, “she’s not your girl, Jeno.”

“You don’t know that,” he gritted his teeth. 

“You’ll come back,” Jaemin’s jaw ticked as he said so. 

“Hold your breath until I do,” you replied.

That was it, he left. It wasn’t silent, nor dramatic, but with enough tension to let you know that he will be coming back. 

Once he was gone, you shoved Jeno, hard. 

“The fuck was that?”

“What? I came here trying to find you, only to witness you talking to him.”

“I didn’t want it to happen either, but the world hates me,” you mumbled, grabbing your bag and walking away with Jeno following you behind. 

“I fucking hate that he still gets to talk to you, why does he have access to you?” His voice rose and you prayed no one would hear him, thankfully this area was empty. 

“He doesn’t, and why do you even care?” You asked, with distress clear on your face, “pretending like I mean something to you in front of Jaemin is just as worse, Jeno.” 

“I—”

“No, you won’t even talk about last night, as if it didn’t happen,” you snapped and he froze, “you didn’t even come back to your room.”

His silence was your answer, and you knew this conversation wasn’t gonna go any further, Jeno couldn’t do that—he was scared of opening up, and he was scared of answering those questions, so even though you were hurting on the inside, you let him be. 

“Tomorrow, library, at five. Be on time.” You mumbled, leaving him behind you. 

“Fuck—fuck!” Jeno punched the wall next to him. He didn’t want you to go—the first person who ever tried to understand him, took his side, defended him. He was beyond scared of letting his guard down, so he groaned, sliding down the wall. 

“How do I even tell you I want you?”

Chapter 7: I stayed, even when it was easier to run.

The library was too quiet for how loud your mind was. The sound of your pen dragging across the paper felt almost intrusive as you tried to finish your assignment. 

It had been three nights since the library fiasco. 

Two nights since the almost kiss. 

One night since the blow up with Jaemin.

You almost didn’t wish to come here, yet here you were, with the sample test papers ready, clad in your little black skirt, a cardigan too loose for you, waiting for Jeno to show up—hoping he would. 

The clock ticked. He was a solid nineteen minutes late now, another minute and you’ll get up to leave. That’s when you heard the lazy footsteps approaching your side, the farthest corner of the library. You expected him to sit in front of you, yet he opted to sit right next to you, so close you could feel the fabric of his jeans brushing against your thigh. He took a seat without permission, like he had the right to be, like nothing had happened. 

He came in like guilt personified, shoulders hunched, hoodie loose, hair an unbrushed mess of indecision. And when he saw you?

He hesitated.

You didn’t look up, simply sliding him the sheet of questions to solve, the air around you turned weighted. His pen scratched, your leg bounced, you sipped water and he watched the corner of your mouth, practically burning holes into you. 

It was unbearable. 

This tension—it’s not a war but there’s rarely ever any peace. Catherine and Heathcliff reincarnated, except you weren’t on a moor, you were in a library, trying not to fall apart across the wooden study table. 

Just yesterday, he burned through Jaemin like jealousy was oxygen. 

He couldn’t stop staring, yet he solved the questions for forty minutes, sliding the sheet back to you for checking, expecting some sort of conversation now, anything, even a little hum of acknowledgement from your side, but none of it happened. 

He watched you scribble your pen over the margin, circling a few things, ticking the others, lip bitten in concentration. He observed you so intensely, how your eyes flicked across his answer sheet, but you didn’t look his way, not even once. 

“You won’t even talk to me now?” He asked, keeping his voice in check. 

“Four answers wrong, you did pretty well, can do better still,” you mumbled, passing him the paper. 

“Y/N,” he sighed, tired, he was afraid of this happening—letting you down, and that’s exactly what he did. Running away from his problems was what Jeno always did, he wasn’t perfect, he knows it, but he wants to try and be better, better for you. 

“You came late,” you said, still not looking up. 

“I didn’t sleep last night,” he exhaled, jaw clenched. 

“Not my problem,” you retorted. 

“I was thinking.”

“You should study instead.”

“You hate me now, huh?” Jeno leaned forward, voice flat. 

You blinked. The question hit out of nowhere.

“I don’t hate you,” you replied carefully. “But I don’t know how to deal with you either.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No, Jeno. It’s the truth. And that’s more than you’ve been giving me.”

He looked at you then, really looked—eyes narrowed, jaw tight, like he was keeping a war behind his teeth. His eyes were empty, yet so full of you. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said, quietly. “I don’t know how to be—good at this, with you.”

“And yet you’re good at disappearing. You’re good at leaving me hanging like none of it mattered.”

You weren’t yelling. You didn’t need to. Your disappointment was louder than any raised voice.

Jeno sat back in his chair, breathing shallow. “You kissed me back.”

Your throat tightened, “you didn’t kiss me at all.”

“Exactly,” he muttered. “Because I would’ve ruined it. Ruined you.”

You shook your head slowly. “No, Jeno. You didn’t kiss me because you’re scared of how much you want to.”

His hands balled into fists. “And you’re not?”

“We’re not talking about me.” You looked away. 

He scoffed, turning to look at you fully, leaning in with his hand now resting on your thigh, burning the skin with his touch. 

“You want honesty, huh? So here it is—I’ve been thinking about you, about everything that’s happened in the past few days, no one’s ever messed with my mind so much and it fucking scares me. You’re messing me up—”

You couldn’t hear more, not when he was so close, not when he poured his heart out to you. Nothing about you two was normal, even your heartbeat was synced with how abnormally high they were. 

“Shh,” you mumbled, covering his mouth with your palm, and even the rude gesture calmed him down—your touch calmed him down. 

“You have an exam tomorrow.” You said and he stared, “study, pass the exam, and we’ll talk, yeah?”

He blinked, almost as if you showed him mercy, and gave him a chance to do something, to prove that he’s worthy of being near you. His scholarship, football, future—everything was at stake, but did he care? No. He cared about not letting you down. He wanted to prove himself to you. 

“You—you promise?” He asked, gripping the extra sheets and notes you passed his way.

You nodded, eyes softer now. You didn’t wanna hurt Jeno, you could see just how hard he tried to fight with his demons, but this time, you wanted him to win.

“I’ll be waiting.” 

You turned to leave then, leaving Jeno with his thoughts as he watched you leave, eyes on your legs. He gulped, looking back to the paper to find a line scribbled in your handwriting. 

You already know the answer, you’re just afraid of getting it wrong. 

It wasn’t about the question, it was about him. 

He just wanted to be worthy enough to stand in front of you and say I didn’t fuck this up this time. So he started, he worked all night, solved as many sample problems as he could, everything felt like a punch in the gut but he couldn’t give up, not this time. 

Jeno couldn’t sleep at night, 

I’ll be waiting. 

That’s what you told him, and he was looking forward to it, because for the very first time in his life, someone wasn’t waiting for him to fail. 

He woke up before his alarm had the chance to ring, didn’t care about his mother’s remark on how he woke up on time for once, or how Jaehyun gave him a long, unreadable look. Jeno didn’t react, he had bigger problems to tackle today. 

You were just as restless as him if not more, checking your phone every few minutes as if you’d get any text from Jeno. He must be busy studying, you hope that was the case. 

He walked into the exam hall calm, focused, terrified. He didn’t skip questions. He didn’t zone out.

He solved the final problem two minutes before time and rechecked every line like his life was hidden in the margins.

When he walked out of that room, his shirt clinging to the back of his neck from sweat, his palms aching from gripping the pen too hard—he knew. He’d done it. Or at least, he hoped he did. 

Yet, he didn’t text you, he wouldn’t until he got the results. 

Chapter 8: Jealousy is but a red thread around my throat. 

You waited, not loud, but silently. 

Two whole days, you held your breath, even planned on visiting the football practice to just get a glimpse of Jeno, yet you couldn’t muster enough courage to do so. God, you were so affected by everything he did, and this felt so very suffocating, waiting on someone. You knew what you felt, there was no point in denying it, however, you couldn’t figure out how it happened, so quickly at that. 

Heck, even Jaemin was more present in your chat inbox, even though you never replied to him, it just made you wonder if your time with Jeno was just a hoax. 

Did you imagine it all? 

On the other hand, on the other side of the city, sitting in a dim room with sunlight pouring in, Jeno was drowning in darkness. 

The exam portal was open in front of him, he refreshed the page every two seconds, not being able to sit still. His hands were shaking, not from fear but from want.  From the feeling of your voice telling him that you’ll talk to him once he proves himself. 

He gave up the wait, the result wasn’t out the whole day. It was three in the morning when the notification woke him up like a jolt. 

Results were out. 

He rushed to check it, the numbers stunning him as his jaw hung open. 

83%

Not perfect. But more than enough.

Enough to pass. Enough to stay on the team.

Enough to say, Look. I did it. I’m not a fuck-up. The first thing he thought of was you. So he typed—just two words.

Jeno: I passed.

Because he didn’t know how to say what he really wanted to—I passed, and all I could think about was your voice. I passed, and I still don’t feel whole unless you tell me you’re proud. I passed, and it’s not enough if I can’t show you.

Your reply came back six minutes later.

You: I knew you would. 

It was soft, gentle. But was it enough for Jeno? No. It should’ve been enough, but it wasn’t. 

He didn’t reply, he didn’t text you again. He opted to skip the lectures for the day and stay in his room, blinds closed, only darkness consuming him. 

You knew it was hard for Jeno, you knew you shouldn’t wait for his reply or him approaching you—he was too scared to do that, which is exactly why you grabbed your bag and went to his place the first thing in the morning. Maybe Jeno needed time, but you had to check. 

You rang the bell, your heart pounding as you did so, expecting Jeno to open up and see you. Once the door opened, your pulse stuttered. 

Jaehyun. 

Of course, it had to be him. 

“Y/N,” he said your name smoothly, “didn’t know you were coming by.”

You hesitated with a small chuckle, exhaling the breath you were holding, “is Jeno home?” 

He nodded, stepping aside to let you in, “yeah, he’s in his room, didn’t come out this morning at all.”

“Oh,” you said softly, wondering if he was alright. 

There was a pause, an awkward silence after that, you felt heavy, wanting to go upstairs but you weren’t sure if you were allowed to. 

Jaehyun closed the door behind you. “He’s been off since the results,” he said, voice low. “I thought passing would help, but I don’t know. He kind of shut down again after telling us he passed.”

You gulped, chest tightened at the revelation. 

“I came to check up on him, I’m not sure if he wants to meet though.”

“He’d want to see you.” Jaehyun said, smiling sincerely, “you’re good for him.”

Your eyes widened at that, “I’m not sure he thinks that.” You tried to smile, “can I go to his room?”

“He locked the door, I think he’s sleeping,” Jaehyun said apologetically. 

“I don’t wanna bother him.” You smiled sadly, “those are good pictures,” you mumbled, looking at the wall full of frames, particularly the ones with Jeno in them.

“Yeah, I took most of those,” Jaehyun replied with another smile, he knew you wanted to talk to Jeno so he suggested something, “Maybe if you take him something to eat? I can give the breakfast he skipped—”

“Oh no, I can run to the bakery and get something—”

Then you noticed a movement in your peripheral vision, you turned around to find Jeno. He was standing down the hall, his fluffy hair a mess, eyes wide as if he didn’t expect you to be here—especially with Jaehyun. 

“Hey,” you breathed out. 

No reply. 

“Y—you didn’t reply, I came to see you,” you tried speaking again. 

However, his expression didn’t change and suddenly, you felt like you shouldn’t have come here at all. He was frozen even when you said you wanted to make sure he was okay. Then he came back to his senses, clearing his throat. 

Jaehyun left the room, letting you two be alone. 

“Why didn’t you ask for me?” He whispered, just sadness in his voice. 

“I did, that’s what I came for,” you tried to explain.

Jeno stared at you, he was so broken inside he couldn’t let himself believe it. You dressed up, all pretty, your eyes so soft, your lips turning into a pout of disappointment. You looked perfect, and you came here for Jeno? He just could not believe it. 

“You were talking to him,” Jeno said, referring to Jaehyun, his voice broken. 

“He opened the door, what can I do?” You shook your head, trying to explain, “you didn’t even text back, Jeno.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he replied, “I’ve never done this before. I’ve never had someone wait for me and mean it.”

Your lips parted to reply but he wasn’t done. 

“You said you’d talk to me after the exam,” he went on, voice sharper now, “but when you showed up, you let him open the door. You let him tell you how I was.”

“I didn’t—” your voice faltered, “I didn’t come for him.”

“Didn’t look that way.”

That hurt. You flinched. “Jeno, why are you doing this?” 

“Because I waited for you,” he snapped. “I sat in that room like a fucking idiot thinking you’d come to see me. Not make small talk with my brother or compliment his photography.”

“You heard that?” You froze, it wasn’t your intention to do any of that. 

“I heard everything, every second you spent without taking my name,” he said. 

Just like that—he hurt you. Every conversation was about Jeno, every single one. He just couldn’t see it. 

“I thought I was getting better,” he admitted, quieter now. “I thought passing the exam would mean something. That it would be enough.”

“It was,” you whispered. “Jeno, it is. I am proud of you.”

“Then why didn’t it feel like it?” His voice broke on that line. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a step away, then back, like his own body was a prison.

You stood frozen. Every word hit somewhere different.

“I wanted you to come,” he said, softer now. “Not to check in. Not to ask if I’d eaten. I wanted you to come for me. Just for me. You don’t get it, Y/N.”

“No,” you stepped forward. “You don’t get it. You think everything is about being chosen or abandoned. But not everyone’s trying to leave you, Jeno. Sometimes people show up. But you keep slamming the door in their face.”

He turned away. “Then go.”

“I came for you.” You said one last time, your eyes watering, not being able to contain the hurt you held in them. 

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have.”

That one landed like a punch.

Your mouth opened. Then closed. You nodded. Just once.

“Fine.”

You turned.

And you left.

And this time, he didn’t stop you.

Chapter 9: I know that I’m hard to read, but you got me here to stay 

You spent most of your morning crying alone in your student council room, but it just wasn’t enough, not when you were being wronged every second of the day, not when the person you wanted kept running away from you no matter how hard you tried. At least you did. 

You couldn’t run away though, you had an important meeting with your council at six in the evening, by that time, you had done everything to make yourself look normal again, but your mind was entirely elsewhere, in another realm, a realm where things were different. 

Jeno, on the other hand, left his room as soon as he realized how wrong everything had gone. All afternoon his own words replayed in his mind, how he asked you to leave and how you left a single tear drop on the floor before you turned around and left. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have.

It felt like biting into something rotten, saying that out loud to you. Like watching the one and the only thing he wanted turn and walk away. You didn’t yell back, you didn’t beg, you went still, and left. He saw you leave—he made you leave. 

And he let you go anyway. Because that’s what he did. Because pushing people away was easier than asking them to stay.

Until now.

Now he was pacing in his room like a caged animal, hoodie still damp, heart in his throat. He kept hearing your voice in the hallway. Kept seeing your face. Kept remembering the way you reached for him and he didn’t reach back.

His chest felt tight, his limbs tense. He couldn’t stay here, not in this house, not knowing you might never come back.

He had to find you.

So he ran. He ran to the courtyard, not caring about the rain pour, soaking him up from head to toe. You weren’t in the library, not in the council room, the classrooms were empty. He was panicking. 

That’s when he heard a voice, turning around the corner of the athletic department, he walked straight into one of his football teammates he couldn’t stand at all—Minjae, a loud-mouthed asshole, smiling like a madman. 

“Fucking hell, Lee Jeno, you look like shit.” He grinned. 

Jeno didn’t answer, he was in a hurry, he had to find you, to make things right with you, he was about to push past Minjae when—

“Oh, by the way,” he smirked, “Jaemin told us a lot about how you finally landed his ex, the pretty goody two shoes, Y/N.”

Jeno froze, jaw clenched at the mention of you and Jaemin in the same sentence, coming from an asshole at that. 

“Didn’t think you’d have a go at someone like her. She seems to like guys who have more brains than biceps.” He laughed at his own joke. 

“The fuck did you just say?” 

Minjae laughed. “Chill, man. I’m just saying—props to you, seriously. Girl like that? All polished and pretty and loyal? I mean, not that it’ll last. Girls like that don’t stay with guys like us. She’ll figure it out eventually.”

Jeno’s vision turned black.

“Say that again,” he said, voice like static.

Minjae raised his hands. “Relax. You don’t need to get all—”

The punch landed before he could finish.

Minjae hit the ground hard, water splashing up from the impact, the rain pouring down heavier now. He tried to shove Jeno back, but to no avail as he bent down, his fist colliding with Minjae’s jaw again.  

Jeno wasn’t fighting Minjae per se, he was fighting every single voice that told him he wasn’t enough, that he could never live up to his brother, that he could never be with someone as perfect as you. That’s what he believed too, till you actually became real for him. 

His mind was elsewhere when he took a blow to his jaw, lip bleeding now, Jeno stumbled but scoffed before punching him again, and again, till his knuckles were shredded, a throbbing in his jaw which almost felt like fire. 

It was only when someone pulled him off of Minjae, Jeno stopped, spitting out blood in the rain slick grass. Everything hurt, but not as much as his burning chest. 

“Are you insane?” Someone yelled his way, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jeno didn’t bother answering, pulling out his phone and rushing away, typing out texts to you. 

Jeno: where are you? please say something i’m so fucking sorry Y/N i didn’t mean it  i didn’t mean any of it i swear Y/N please 

No response. His messages were just there, unread, and unanswered. He simply didn’t know why. 

He didn’t know how you had been in the private meeting room for the past hour, student council prep being a whole scheduling disaster, handling arguments about clubs and their out-of-the-worldly budget demands. 

You were half awake at best, distracted by the storm that brewed outside. Your phone vibrates once, then again, and when you finally pull it out to check the numerous missed calls—your screen goes dark. Perfect, just on the day you didn’t bring your charger or powerbank. 

The feeling in your gut—it wasn’t good, which is why you excused yourself mid meeting, something you never do, to rush back home. You were soaked as you ran to your apartment, close to the University, thankfully. You plugged your phone in to charge as you rushed to take a shower, hoping the hot water would soothe your nerves. It didn’t. 

You kept thinking about Jeno, about the fight at his place earlier, how he asked you to leave with the saddest look in his eyes, and how badly it hurt you. You were out of the shower in fifteen minutes, toweling your hair with one hand and rushing to check your phone with the other, not expecting a myriad of notifications. 

17 Missed calls. 

6 Voicemails. 

26 Unread texts. 

The last of which made your blood run cold. 

Jeno: Y/N please  i’m outside 

You rushed to the front door, and he was there—leaning against the wall beside your entrance, hoodie clinging to him, hair wet and plastered to his forehead, eyes closed and him wincing like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Like it hurts too much to exist. Hands bruised, lip split, and he opened his eyes—bloodshot, glassy. 

“Jeno,” you gasped out loud, “w—what happened?” You said, going close to him. 

“I tried to find you,” he said, voice wrecked, “I tried but I couldn’t, I thought that maybe you blocked me.”

“No—I was in a meeting and my phone died, god I’m so sorry—fuck, come inside.” You shook your head in distress.

“Y/N,” he groaned, and you gently helped him when he didn’t move, like he wasn’t allowed to, “I fucked up.”

“Shh, come inside, it’s cold,” you whispered and he nodded after a moment of hesitation. You tried to be calm, you tried to take control of the situation for once and he listened, this time he did when you took him to your room. 

You didn’t ask how this happened to him, only guiding him to the bathroom, “you’re soaked and bleeding, take a shower, i’ll put your clothes in the wash and dryer.”

He opened his mouth to say otherwise, but you didn’t let him, grabbing a fresh towel and handing it to him. 

“Are you sure you want me here?” He asked, vulnerable. 

“I wouldn’t have opened the door otherwise, Jeno, I do.”

He nodded, swallowing hard as he disappeared into the bathroom without another word and you worked your washing machine and dryer, sitting down right after, exhaling and letting your guard down, hands shaking with worry. 

You were glad Jeno was taking his sweet time inside, because you had no clue how to go on with this situation. Jeno stalling coming out simply because he was ashamed, also consumed in how good your shampoo smells. He was at your place, in your bathroom, all bloodied up, why? Because he couldn’t be normal for once and let you in. 

His walls came crashing down each time you came closer to him, but this time, he didn’t want them to go back up the second he touched you, this time, he wanted you inside with him. 

His clothes were dry very soon and you kept them in your room, waiting outside by the sofa, letting him come out all dressed up. The water stopped soon, the door creaking as he came out, and you were sitting on the sofa, hair still wet. 

Then Jeno opened the door, you stood up at the noise, and he looked your way in a silent plea to ask you if he could sit next to you, and you nodded. He held up the bloodied towel, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and you smiled softly, taking it away from him. 

The silence was too loud after as you both sat next to each other, you waited for him to say something, waited for the reality of tonight to settle in—to make sense, to stop trembling beneath your skin. And then he spoke as you took out your medicine kit, gently grabbing his hand to take a look at his bruised knuckles. 

“Y/N,” he took your name as if it was the only thing he knew. 

He watched you kneel in front of him, your eyes not angry, just steady, quiet, and unbearably kind. His fingers trembled in yours, you gently pulled the sleeve back, pressing a warm damp cloth to the wounds, making him wince slightly at the contact. 

“Sorry,” you breathed out. 

“I deserve worse,” he breathed back. 

“No, you don’t,” you said, looking up at him. 

He laughed under his breath, “why are you so kind to me? I don’t deserve it, Y/N.”

“You don’t get to decide what I give you, Jeno,” you replied, “you’re bleeding, again.”

“Not my first time.”

You gripped him tighter, “and that’s supposed to make it better?”

“No,” he said, voice low, “just means I’m good at it by now.”

You didn’t answer. Just ripped the antiseptic packet open a little more forcefully than necessary and pressed it to the bruised line of his knuckles. He flinched.

“Good,” you muttered. “Means you still feel something.”

“God, Y/N—”

“No,” you snapped, trying your best to act normal but you both were far from that, “not yet.”

You cleaned the split in his skin with the kind of precision that only comes from anger—controlled, careful, but deeply furious.

“You don’t get to act like none of this mattered,” you said, eyes locked on his wounds. “You don’t get to disappear into your guilt and then show up bleeding and say I didn’t know where else to go. That’s not enough.”

His jaw clenched. “I didn’t come for a reward.”

“Good,” you said coldly. “Because you’re not getting one.” You wrapped gauze around his hand slowly, tight enough that it would sting.

He didn’t pull away.

“I came because I thought I’d lose you,” he said through his teeth, “I came because I’m fucking terrified that I already did.”

“Who’s fault is that?” You said, standing up, “you keep doing this thing, you pull me in, let me see you and then the very second it gets real, you shut the door in my face.”

“I know,” he said. Loud. Frustrated. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see the way you look at me when I say the wrong thing? Like you’re trying so fucking hard not to walk away?”

“You told me to go!”

“I didn’t mean it!”

“Then don’t say it!” You shouted, “don’t look at me like I’m everything one second and then act like I mean nothing the next!”

“I didn’t think you’d stay.”

“I stayed!”

You were both breathing hard now. Staring at each other like you didn’t know whether to cry or kiss or throw something, You still stood in between Jeno’s legs, him looking up at you.  Jeno ran a hand through his damp hair, pacing a few feet before turning back to you, eyes wide and glassy.

“I ruin things,” he said, “I always have. I don’t know how to love something without fucking it up. But I wanted you anyway—I still do.”

Your throat tightened. “And I’m supposed to what? Carry all of that? Be your exception?”

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I just need you to see that I’m trying. Even if it’s ugly. Even if I’m bleeding and loud and afraid. I need you to see me, and stay anyway.”

You stared at him.

He looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days. Someone who’d gone through hell and walked straight into another fire because you were at the center of it.

Your voice cracked, “you don’t make it easy.”

“I know.”

You looked down at your hands—his blood still faintly on your fingertips. He reached out slowly. You didn’t move. Not when his fingers curled around your wrist. Not when he pulled you in his lap, not when his forehead leaned into yours like he was holding on for dear life.

“I hate that I hurt you,” he whispered. “But I’d rather burn with you than freeze without you.”

“I wasn’t gonna leave, Jeno.”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because I’m sick,” he said suddenly. “Sick of being the one who’s always too much. Too angry. Too wrong. I get one thing right—one fucking exam—and even then I screw it up by throwing a punch at someone who talks shit about you and then picking a fight with the only person who’s ever actually looked at me like I could be more.”

Your breath hitched. You grabbed the gauze, wrapped it around his hand. Tighter than needed.

“Then be more, Jeno.”

He stared at you.

“Be more,” you repeated, “because I’m tired of being in love with someone who’s so determined to hate himself.”

That silenced him. Fully. Until he spoke again.

“You’re in love with me?”

The words dropped like a bomb between you.

You froze. Swallowed. Refused to take it back, chuckling to yourself at how easily you let go and told him that, “yeah—god help me, I am.”

Then you tried to move back, only his arms wrapped around your waist tighter, holding you in place, “you don’t get to say that and walk away.” He growled. 

“Who said I’m walking away?” You mumbled, holding onto his shoulder for support. 

It was unreal, how close you guys were but still not close enough, it was never enough. 

“You’re mad at me,” Jeno stated. 

“I should be mad.” 

“I’m mad too,” he added. 

“Good,” you rolled your eyes, trying to move again.

But he didn’t let you, not this time, his thumb brushing your cheek. 

That was it. That was when Jeno finally let go. He couldn’t delay this anymore, not again, not when you were right in front of him, not when your soft lips brushed so tenderly against his bruised ones, not when you told him you were in love with him—not when he knew he had to have you. 

He surged up and into you—hands gripping your face, mouth pressing against yours like it was the only way to breathe. It wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t neat, it was everything you’d been holding back.

Lips slotted together, you could taste blood on your tongue from where he was hurt before, which only made you groan into the kiss, he was frustrated, so frustrated, not having it in him to let go for even a second. 

You gasped, arms flying up to clutch at his shoulders, pressed chest-to-chest, his body was warm—too warm—and you could feel his tension in every line.

You broke the kiss first, panting, eyes wide. “You shouldn’t—” you tried to say, especially when his body was hurting. 

“I have to,” he breathed, leaning in again. “Let me, just once. Please.”

You didn’t stop him, grabbing his nape and pulling him into you once again, because when Jeno kissed you again, it felt like pain, penance, and pleasure all in one. It was as if he was trying to earn your forgiveness with his mouth, trying to pour out everything he couldn’t say to you, groaning into your mouth when your hips shifted over his lap. 

“I fucking—” He said midway the kiss, “god I—”

You shushed him gently, “you don’t have to say it.”

“I love you,” he breathed out, forehead pressed against yours, eyes earnest and full of life for the first time since you saw him, “I don’t care if it’s too early, I can’t fucking not say it, I love you, I—”

Before he could ruin the moment with the spiral in his throat, before he could pull back in fear, you pressed your lips against his like it was the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

He responded like he’d been starving. Mouth hot, desperate, hands gripping your waist like the world was falling apart and he only had seconds left to memorize you. The kiss was brutal in the way it made you feel, there was no choreography to it, no elegance—just lips, teeth, breath, and aching hunger.

His mouth was swollen. Your lips, bruised from how much he kissed you like he didn’t know how to stop.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed.

You stared at him. “I don’t want you to.”

Then you grabbed his jaw once you heard him wince, “does it hurt?” You asked, pecking his jaw, trailing kisses all over. 

“It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt,” he whispered, letting your lips take over, tracing every bit of his face and neck, his eyes closing with the fire that you ignited within him. 

“This feels like a dream,” he whispered.

“It’s not.”

“But it could be,” he added, almost to himself. “You—like this, in my lap, in your apartment, touching me like I’m not a monster.”

You cupped his face again, guiding his eyes to yours, “you’re not a monster, Jeno.”

“You don’t know the things I’ve thought.”

“Then tell me.”

His voice cracked, “I thought I’d die if I didn’t see you again. I thought that maybe I’m already ruined and maybe I don’t deserve you but I can’t stop loving you anyway. I thought—”

You kissed him again. Slow this time. Deep and aching, “then stop thinking,” you whispered, “just be here—with me.”

His fingers trembled as they curled into the hem of your shirt.

“Can I?”

You nodded.

He pulled the fabric up carefully, reverently, and you helped him, raising your arms until it was off. His breath hitched. Not because of how you looked—but because he was looking at you like that.

Like something sacred.

You grabbed the back of his hoodie, tugging. He hesitated for a split second before pulling it over his head. The sight made your breath catch.

His torso was littered with bruises, some dark purple, some fading yellow. His ribcage dipped where the muscle was taut with tension. You reached out, fingertips grazing over a particularly harsh mark near his side.

He flinched. “That one’s from earlier.”

Your jaw clenched, “you shouldn’t fight because of me.”

“I wasn’t,” he said, “I was fighting every voice in my head that said I wasn’t worth your love.”

You kissed the bruise.

He gasped.

“I hate that they ever made you feel like that.”

His hands slid back up to your sides, lips brushing your jaw. “You make it go quiet.”

“I want to,” you whispered.

Your kisses grew slow again, heavier with emotion than desire. You could feel his heartbeat where your chest pressed into his, your hands in his hair, his head tilted just enough to deepen the kiss. You rolled your hips slightly in his lap, and he groaned again, burying his face in your neck.

“Fuck, Y/N—”

“Jeno,” you murmured, your nails dragging softly along his back, “look at me.”

He lifted his head. His eyes—wild, glassy, full of everything he couldn’t say.

“I love you,” you said again. “I’m not afraid of it. So don’t be either.”

He leaned forward, pressing your foreheads together. 

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“You’re so fucking pretty, did I ever tell you that?” He mumbled against the skin of your neck, brushing his lips all over before placing open mouthed kisses over the expanse of your clavicle, “so fucking pretty.”

Jeno wasn’t gentle anymore, not when he’d been craving your presence, craving you. He couldn’t help but treat you like a reward, like he finally had won the only thing in life that actually mattered to him. 

He was quick to grab your waist and flip you over, getting on top of you on the couch that was too small for things he had planned in his mind. It was almost like a dam breaking the way his mouth was on your neck, biting, sucking, claiming you. 

“Jeno—” you mumbled, your back arching as you felt his body pressing into you, fingers wrapped around his wet locks as he marked your skin with every ounce of desperation he had, his fingers mapping out every inch of your body as if he’s afraid he’d forget it—as if he could ever forget anything about you. 

The warmth of his hands brushed over your bra clad nipples, a whimper leaving your mouth. Jeno wasn’t undressed yet you could feel him getting hard, and god you wondered just how big he was, grinding into you as if he was already inside your cunt. 

“I hurt you so fucking much,” Jeno mumbled, lips ghosting over your tit, “now I’ll hurt you in the way you want me to,” he said with dark eyes, yanking your bra down enough for your nipples to show, latching his mouth to you all in light speed. 

All his life Jeno couldn’t take control of anything, but seeing you shiver under him just made sense to Jeno, he had to take control—he had to make you feel so good, you wouldn’t ever look at anyone else. 

“You’re fucking crazy,” you whispered, already disheveled with how needy you were, wetness pooling in your panties, soiling the new pair you had put on not too long ago. 

“Yeah? You drive me crazy, baby,” he chuckled, and that sound went straight to your pussy. Jeno was hot, so fucking hot, but him using nicknames on you with his deep tone—only god knows how you would survive this. 

You bit your lip to conceal your moans, which only infuriated Jeno, biting your nipple harshly to make sure you scream, “don’t fucking hide your pretty voice,” he said. 

His hands went to your other breast and he gave it a tight squeeze, your eyes were on him as you watched his lips parting, letting his tongue make contact with the tip of your very hardened nub. He bites down on your nipple, making you cry out, but quickly soothes it with his tongue before switching to the other side, he wants to drive you wild with pleasure, to possess every inch of your body.

Lost in the haze of pleasure, you surrender yourself completely to Jeno’s possessive touches, letting him have his way with you. The room fills with the sounds of your moans and his desperate sucking, a symphony of carnal desire. In this moment, there is nothing but you and Jeno, and the burning hunger that consumes you both. 

Jeno’s hands roam across your body, his touch electric against your skin. He grabs your hips, pulling you flush against him as he claims your lips in yet another searing kiss, tongue delving into your mouth, hot and hungry, making you more hungry for his touch—for him. 

“I—can’t,” you whimpered, wanting more of him. 

Jeno chuckled, “can’t even speak now, hm? What happened to the feisty lil’ girl who couldn’t shut up?” 

“Fuck, shut up,” you mumbled, tugging on his hair harder, which only made him groan and squeeze your tits harder, coming up to brush his lips against yours, hot breaths intertwining as he smirks, hand travelling down your body, very close to the hem of your shorts. 

“Want me to shut up?” He asked, squeezing your neck with slight pressure, your mouth opening in a gasp—he took the opportunity to spit in your mouth, watching your eyes widen as watches you gulp it down, “good fucking girl,” he mumbles. 

You were too gone to function anymore and you had just started, but you knew one thing—whatever Jeno wanted, you’d let him do it to you. 

That man was no less than a Greek god with how sharp his features looked, especially in the dim light of the room, muscles flexing, abs on full display as he held himself up on top of you to press kisses all over. 

In a swift second, he pulled you up to unclasp your bra, throwing it away somewhere to continue pressing hot mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts, and down your tummy, caressing it with the pad of his thumb, spending a good few seconds covering the expanse of your skin. 

You breathed harder once he reached the waistband of your shorts, his hooded eyes, almost drunk, looking up at you before he swiftly pulled them down, throwing them on the floor somewhere.

He couldn’t be gentle even if he tried, not when he was this thirsty, holding your legs open as he settled in the limited space that the couch held for him. Madman—that’s what he was and you couldn’t help but moan when he got closer to your panty clad cunt, burying his nose in the wet fabric, sniffing the scent of your arousal, groaning as he locked your thighs under his arms, which flexed harder now. 

You moaned his name as if a broken record repeating the same thing over and over again and he only mumbled things you couldn’t hear in your cunt, licking the already wet cloth, biting his lip at the first taste of you, “fuck—you’re so fucking perfect,” he says licking you harder, kissing your inner thighs alongside, leaving bites all over—he was feral. 

He slid your panties to the side, and the sight he had in front of him drove him to the edge. Jeno was an impatient man, yes, he was messy, he was not the softest, but seeing you like this just made him realize how much crazier he could be. 

That first taste emboldens him and he dives in like a man starved, lapping at your folds like he’s trying to consume you entirely. 

His desperate tongue delves deep inside, fucking you with rapid strokes and curling to hit your sweet spot. You cry out sharply at the intense sensation, fingers tangling in his tousled raven hair to hold him in place. He grips your thighs tightly, holding you down and open for his onslaught as he devours you. 

Jeno zeroes in on your clit, flicking and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves rapidly. Your back arches off the couch as he suckles hard on the throbbing bud, two fingers pumping inside your clenching hole.

“Fuck—Jeno, I’m gonna cum!” You wail, thighs trembling violently around his head as your climax approaches rapidly. He doubles his efforts, fucking you harder with his fingers and lashing your clit mercilessly with his tongue.

He curls his fingers to stroke your G-spot with every thrust, drawing out more of your copious arousal to lap up greedily. Your walls start to flutter and clench around him as the pressure builds unbearably.

 Jeno chuckled, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. “You like that, baby?” He practically purred, before sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. 

“Fuck—yes,” you gasped, your head falling back against the couch. Jeno was relentless, his tongue exploring every inch of you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, your thighs trembling as you stared at the ceiling with your mouth open, desperate for air. 

Jeno pulled back for a moment, looking up at you with a wicked grin, “you want more, kitten?” He teased, running a finger along your slit, “go on then, beg for it.”

You groaned in frustration, but you were too far gone to care, “please, Jeno,” you begged, fueling his ego. 

“Shhh, be a good lil’ kitten for me, yeah?” He mumbled into your core mindlessly, sending shivers up your spine as your thighs shake. He didn’t stop, but just when your ecstasy was about to crash—

He stopped. 

You let out a frustrated groan and Jeno only got up with the essence of you sprawled over his chin, his hard on begging to be freed. 

“Fuck?” You asked, trying to get up on your elbows, looking at him incredulously. 

He only gave you a once over, tongue poking his cheek from inside before he came closer, swooping you up in his arms easily as you yelped, eyes wide as he carried you to the bedroom, “no patience, huh?” He asked. 

He was proud of himself for making you this weak, for cracking your high wall down so he could see you, so he could ruin you. Jeno was possessive, especially after knowing what you and Jaemin went through, he wanted you to have the best, and he was willing to be the best for you. 

“I—I was gonna cum!” You said, holding on to him for support.

“Did I say you could?” He replied smoothly. 

“What—Jeno what the fuck?” You whined and he only chuckled.

“Be patient, love, or else you won’t be coming all fucking night, yeah?” He said as he let you get down on the bed. 

You looked so innocent, eyes watery, hair messy, looking up at him like an angry little kitten trying to look tough. He climbed the bed and you moved back, till your back hit the headboard and he hovered above you, caressing your cheek as he cupped your jaw, tilting your head up to look him in his eye. Your heartbeat speeding up yet again, and good lord you loved being manhandled by Jeno. 

“What are you thinking?” He asked, thumb pushing on your lower lip. 

“Nothing.” You mumbled. 

He leaned in closer, “not thinking of my cock inside your pretty little cunt, hm?” He asks, watching you shiver at the thought, “by the time I'm done with you, you’ll be begging me to let you cum.”

Your jaw clenched as you slide your hand up Jeno’s torso, tracing all the way from his abs to his neck, his own body reacting to your touch, cock twitching inside his pants by the time your hand rested on his nape, pulling him even closer so your noses were touching. 

“You know, Jeno, you talk big game. Don’t make promises you can’t back up,” you mumbled to rile him up. 

Jeno’s eyes flashed with a mixture of lust and irritation at your challenge, “oh, you’re going to regret those words,” he whispered, his hands gripping your hips possessively. “I’m going to make you beg for my cock, baby.”

He punctuated his statement with a sharp thrust of his fingers, two of them plunging deep into your sopping wet pussy. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he worked them in and out, stroking along your sensitive walls.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he panted, his thumb rubbing firm circles on your clit. “I can’t wait to feel this perfect little cunt wrapped around my cock.”

You moaned, your hips rolling to meet his hand as he fucked you with his fingers. “Then stop talking and do something about it,” you shot back, your voice breathy with desire.

Jeno chuckled darkly, withdrawing his fingers only to bring them to his mouth. He sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving yours as he savored your taste. “Mmh—delicious,” he purred, “but I’m not done playing with you yet.”

Before you could protest, he was pushing your thighs apart and settling between them. His tongue delved into your folds, lapping at your arousal like a man starved. You cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he devoured your pussy with single-minded intensity.

He worked you over mercilessly, his tongue and lips and teeth finding all the right spots to drive you wild. You bucked against his face, your thighs trembling as the pleasure built inside you. Just when you thought you might burst, Jeno would back off, leaving you desperate and aching for release.

“Jeno, please,” you whimpered, tugging on his hair in a futile attempt to guide him back to where you needed him most, “I need to cum. Please let me cum.”

He lifted his head, his chin glistening as he looked up at you. “Not yet,” he shook his head, his fingers continuing their maddeningly slow circles on your clit, “I want to hear you scream first.”

“I fucking can’t!” You breathed out, trying to control your moans again, “someone’s gonna hear and—ah—complain about it,” you said, which only made him scoff. 

“Is that it, hm? Have it your way then, princess,” he mumbled, yanking your soiled panties down all the way, balling it up in his first to make a gag out of it and shoving it down your mouth, “now you can scream all your want, Y/N.” He said, taking your name in his deep voice. 

And if you weren’t crazy before, now you had reached your limit of madness, even a poke from his side was like a pleasant burning wound to your skin, his actions also made you realize just how hungry Jeno was for being the one in control. 

You squirmed beneath Jeno, feeling utterly at his mercy as he continued his torturous teasing. The gag in your mouth muffled your moans but couldn’t silence them completely, much to Jeno’s enjoyment. Your body arched, yearning for more, desperate for release.

“Such a needy lil’ thing, aren’t you?” Jeno growled, his fingers still circling your sensitive bud, “I can feel how wet you are, taste how wet you are, dripping for me, hm?”

His words made you clench, fresh arousal coating his fingers. He gathered some of your slickness and slowly dragged it up to your throbbing clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. Your hips bucked up in hopes of seeking more contact.

“Hm—so responsive,” Jeno purred, looking pleased with himself, “I could do this all night—keep you on the edge, begging so desperately for me.”

“Please—” you tried to say around the gag, your eyes pleading, you were so close, teetering on the brink of an explosive climax. Just a little more.

But Jeno seemed determined to deny you that satisfaction, easing off right as you were about to fall over into your state of euphoria, frustration bubbled up inside you, mingling with the overwhelming lust coursing through your veins.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, baby,” Jeno taunted, nipping at your inner thigh, “I want to hear you scream my name—let everyone know who you belong to.”

His fingers circled, feather-light touches that drove you wild with need. You thrashed beneath him, incoherent noises of desperation spilling from your lips. Jeno just chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your plight, removing your gag to hear you gasp loudly, his name on the tip of your tongue. 

Jeno was cruel, so cruel the way he denied your orgasm yet again with a smirk playing on his face, a whole one eighty from how he was an hour back and you were crying by now, something he seemed to enjoy too as he licked your face, tasting the salty teardrop you let out, “this makes me wanna ruin you more, y’know?” 

“Fuck—Jeno, let me cum please,” you sobbed as he took you in his arms. 

“You wanna cum, hm?” He asked as you settled on his lap, his hard on pressing against your thigh as you nodded, “fuck, you look so pretty crying like that for me, like a doll, a doll for me to use, hm?”

You couldn’t take it anymore, getting off and undoing his pant buttons as he watched you with amusement how you struggled to take off his pants and boxers, only to find his cock waiting for you, hard and proud. 

Jeno’s cock was throbbing, hard and ready to burst, as you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip in a teasing manner. You could taste the salty beads of precum leaking from his slit, the flavor sending a jolt of desire straight to your core.

“Fuck—baby,” Jeno groaned, his fingers threading through your hair as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper into your throat. “Your mouth feels so good. Keep going just like that, good girl.”

You moaned around his length, the vibrations making him shudder. Your own arousal was dripping down your thighs, coating them with your slick essence. The wet sounds of your slurping filled the room, mingling with Jeno’s heavy breaths and grunts of pleasure.

“Shit—fuck, take it easy, I won’t be able to hold back," he panted, his grip on your hair tightening, “I’m gonna fucking come down your throat if you keep sucking me like that.”

You redoubled your efforts, eager to taste his release. Your tongue flattened against the underside of his shaft as you sucked harder, determined to milk him of every last drop. Just as you felt him start to swell, signaling his impending orgasm, you pulled away with a pop.

Jeno’s eyes jolted open, a mix of confusion and frustration flashing across his face. “What the fuck, baby? Why the fuck did you stop?”

You just smiled coyly up at him, licking your lips. “Because I want you to come inside me. I want to feel you fill me up with your hot cum, or are you too much of a coward to fuck me?” You teased, your grin making him scoff. 

God he loved you. 

Jeno growled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. In a flash, he grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your side, your back pressed firmly against his torso. 

Before you could even process the sudden change in position, he was lined up at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging your slick folds.

“Teasing me will only get you punished,” he warned, his voice low and husky with desire. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”

With that promise, he slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching as he filled you completely. Jeno set a brutal pace, pounding into you with wild abandon.

You let out a sharp cry as Jeno’s thick cock stretched you open, filling you so deeply that you could feel him bulging through your lower abdomen. The feeling of his hard length pulsing inside you sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you arch your back and press your ass against him.

“Lord—ah yes,” you gasped, grinding against him, “you’re—so fucking big.”

Jeno grunted in response, his fingers digging into your hips as he continued to pound into you at a furious pace. The sounds of skin slapping against skin and your needy moans filled the room, mixing with the creaking of the bed frame beneath you.

“Shit, your cunt is so tight,” Jeno mumbled, his breath hot against your neck. “Squeezing my cock like a desperate doll—you were made for me, baby. Made to take my dick and milk me dry.”

His filthy words only heightened your arousal, making you clench even tighter around him. You could feel your orgasm building again, the tension coiling in your core as he hit that special spot deep inside you with each thrust.

“Please don’t stop, not this time,” you pleaded, your nails digging into his thighs. “Fuck me harder, Jeno. I’m so fucking close.”

He was quick to flip you over again so you were resting on your back, his hips settling in between you as he held your thighs up, your legs resting on both his shoulders with ease as he snapped into you harder, plunging his cock with more need, as if he was a monster hungry for lust and only lust.

Jeno snarled, his hips snapping forward with a newfound vigor. One hand moved around to rub firm circles around your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body began to tremble, your breath coming out in short gasps as you found yourself on the brink of ecstasy.

“Cum for me,” Jeno demanded, pinching your clit hard, “I want to feel you cum all over my dick, baby.”

With a scream of his name, you practically exploded, your pussy clamping down around him like a vice as your orgasm crashed over you. Your body convulsed, your back bowing as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed through you, which shocked Jeno because you weren’t just having an orgasm. 

You were squirting all over his cock. 

Jeno followed shortly after, his cock pulsing as he spilled his release deep inside you, as he breathed hard, watching you with surprised eyes.

“Fuck,” he groaned, grinding against you to prolong your shared climax, “you’re so fucking hot, so fucking mine.”

You whimpered at the feeling of his hot cum painting your walls, the sensation making your pussy flutter around his shaft. Jeno held you close as you both rode out the aftershocks, his softening cock still buried inside you.

“You’re mine,” he mumbled, “say it.”

“Yours—I’m yours,” you breathed as best as you could. 

“Again.”

“I’m yours, Jeno.”

“Fuck—again.”

“So so fucking yours, I’m all yours Jeno.”

“Mine,” he whispered, so possessive. 

After a few moments, Jeno carefully pulled out and rolled you onto your back. He pressed gentle kisses along your jawline and down your neck, his touch soothing and tender in contrast to the rough passion from moments before.

“That was intense,” he murmured, nuzzling against your collarbone, “I don’t think i’ll ever get enough of you, baby. You’re fucking addictive.”

You smiled up at him, reaching up to cup his face. "I could say the same about you. The way you fuck me, it’s like you’re a fucking beast.”

“Was I too harsh?” He asked, placing soft kisses all over, “I’m sorry I just lost control—you have no idea how badly I need you, I don’t think I can stop,” he confessed. 

You kissed him again, “then don’t stop, just don’t.”

That’s all he needed to hear for the night, that you were finally his, and he was yours. He smirked, the night was just getting started. 

Chapter 10: Hate me less? You love me more. 

You don’t remember how the night ended, not when Jeno kept his promise of how you wouldn’t be able to walk anymore once he was done with you, and he was precise about it. He was far from done when he made you fall apart on his cock so many times, you lost count. 

It was a crazy switch up once you both were done, he took care of you, almost like he was made for it, helping you clean up in little bathtub which was definitely too small to fit the both of you, yet he helped you bath, a faint blush on his face as you laughed once he tried to act sly, touching you again when you were so sensitive and overstimulated. 

Turns out, Jeno can be super clingy when he has to be, also not letting you go once you get out of the tub, helping you dry your hair, helping you moisturize your body, helping you smile by kissing you every few seconds. 

He held you to sleep, not before hearing you say you actually want him and it’s not a dream. Jeno doesn’t remember if he ever felt this way before, this warmth called happiness that you provided him so easily. 

“I love you,” he mumbled to your sleeping figure, he was whipped, already thinking of your future together. Yeah, maybe it all happened too quickly, he still wouldn’t have it any other way. He wouldn’t mind getting through all the hurt again if it meant that he’d wake up to you sleeping next to him—to you loving him. 

It was perhaps the best day of Jeno’s life. 

The air felt different today.

Not because of the weather, which was finally warm and breezy after days of storm and stress, but because Jeno was walking beside you—not behind, not ahead—beside you. His fingers were laced with yours, his thumb brushing over your skin every few steps like he was still checking if this was real, he still couldn’t believe it. 

It was.

You passed the main quad slowly, in no rush. The two of you didn’t need to say much. Conversations dimmed as you walked through. You could feel the glances, the whispers.

Someone definitely said your name. Then his.

And then, clear as day, they whispered. 

“Wait—are they actually holding hands?”

Jeno didn’t flinch.

Not like he would’ve, weeks ago. Not like the boy who couldn’t stand being seen, being known. Instead, he just grabbed your hand a little tighter—casual, sure, and completely unbothered. His expression said it all—Yeah, and?

You chuckled. “Think they’re combusting?”

“Oh, definitely,” he said, tugging you closer with a smugness he barely bothered to hide anymore. “Especially that one girl who’s walking with me, who swore she’d never even look at me.”

“She wasn’t entirely wrong,” you teased. “You were kind of a menace.”

He groaned, tossing his head back, “were?”

You laughed, and it made him smile, soft and full, the kind of smile he used to hide and now gave you freely.

“You’re doing that look again,” he said, side-eyeing you. “Like you’re psychoanalyzing me.”

“Maybe I am. Can’t help it. You’re a walking dissertation, y’know?”

“Yeah? What’s the title?”

You looked up at him with a shrug. “How to fall for someone you’re supposed to hate.”

That made him stop walking.

You blinked, startled, but he was already turning to face you, his hoodie sleeves pushed up just enough to show the fading bruises on his knuckles—old reminders of the version of him you never gave up on.

“I’m glad you did,” he said. “Fall for me. Even when I made it so damn hard.”

You smiled slowly, the kind of smile that made his breath catch. “You still do.”

“Yeah, well,” he squeezed your hand, “at least I’m hot.”

You were too busy rolling your eyes to realize you’d just walked past Jaemin and his friends until the entire bench went awkwardly quiet. Jaemin looked up, eyes flicking from your joined hands to your face, and then to Jeno—who didn’t even spare him a glance.

He was too focused on you. Too content stealing a bite of your ice cream like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Let’s go,” you muttered, trying not to laugh as you nudged him forward.

Jeno followed. No hesitation.

Because this, the hand holding, the quiet teasing, the stares that didn’t matter anymore, this was normal.

And for the first time in his life, Jeno finally understood: Normal didn’t mean boring.

It meant chosen. It meant enough.

It meant being yours.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[classjezter]

I CAN JUST IMAGINE HOW THE BOTS ARE FEELING RN 😭

Not well! they're trying their best though

I wrote a bit for this scene, you can read it down here🔽

It had been a few days since they lost him.

Her room was now a wreck. Jagged holes peppered the walls, one of the chairs had been kicked clear across the room, and a table lay overturned, half-broken. Elita sat hunched over on the edge of her berth, arms resting on her knees, head bowed low. Her frame was tight, tense, like if she moved wrong she might snap in half.

The door swished open.

B-127 hesitated in the doorway, peeking inside with wide optics. He shifted awkwardly, glancing at the battered walls before his gaze landed on Elita. She hadn’t moved. She just sat there, so still it was almost frightening.

"...Hey," he said, voice small in the tense silence.

Elita didn't look up. She just gave a low grunt of acknowledgment, still seething silently. The tension in the room was thick, heavy, he could feel it like a physical weight on him.

Bee hovered awkwardly by the door for a moment before finally walking over and sitting in the berth a little ways from her.

He hated seeing her like this, it was wrong. Elita was supposed to be strong. Unshakable. Seeing her this broken felt worse than anything. This was one of the few times he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to make her feel better.

Finally, her voice broke the silence, rough and low. "I let him down”

Bee blinked. "Elita-“

"I let him down” she said again, louder this time. She finally looked up at him, and the sheer pain in her optics made him flinch. "He trusted me. All of us. And I couldn’t even keep him safe when it mattered”

He thought back to the security footage Prowl had shown them. He thought of a tiny sparkling, awkwardly climbing out of his crib, determined to follow after Elita and B-127 when they’d left to defend their base from the Decepticons. He remembered how nobody had even realized Optimus wasn’t asleep anymore, how they’d been too caught up in all the chaos. Their leader turned-sparkling always did this, wandered off when he shouldn’t, curious and full of energy. They knew he did this, they should have been more careful, they should have-

"I should've been paying attention” Elita muttered, unknowingly voicing B-127 thoughts, her voice low and rough. "I should’ve noticed he was following us... I should’ve noticed something”

B-127’s mouth opened to argue, but the words caught in his throat. How could he tell her it wasn’t her fault when he was carrying that same guilt? When he kept replaying that moment in his processor, running through the halls, hearing the faint sound of Skywarp’s teleporting signature “vop”, and knowing -knowing- he was too late?

He should say something now, he’s being too quiet.

"All I can think about is the last time I saw him. He was trying to follow me. Trying to keep up. And I didn’t even notice. I didn’t even look back” She leaned forward, burying her face in her hands. "Primus... I left him behind” 

B-127 scooted closer to her, they were almost touching now “You didn’t leave him," he said after a moment. "None of us did. He just... he got caught in the crossfire. It- it wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was…”

Elita laughed bitterly into her hands “‘Supposed to happen’ doesn’t mean anything now”

Bee stared at the floor. "Yeah” another beat of silence.

He couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

He looked away from her, guilt twisting in his spark. "I... I’m sorry”

Elita frowned, confused. "What?"

"I’m sorry!” Bee blurted again, louder this time. Turning to look at her, his words stumbled over each other in a rush. "When we realized he was missing, you trusted me to find him, to get him back and keep him safe. I was supposed to find him. I was supposed to get to him first. But I- I didn’t. I wasn’t fast enough. I tried, I swear I did, but Skywarp- he was faster. And I couldn’t get to him in time!"

He squeezed his optics shut, fists clenching in his lap. "I should’ve been faster. I should’ve protected him. It’s my fault too”

Elita sat in stunned silence for a few moments, processing Bee’s rushed confession, the guilt thick in his voice. She had been so buried in her own anger and grief, she hadn’t even thought about how hard this was for the others, how hard it was for him. But hearing Bee’s voice crack like that, hearing the guilt he carried just as heavy as hers, she felt something break inside her.

Her optics softened, and she shifted, scooting a little closer to where he was sitting stiffly beside her so that their sides were touching.

“B…” she said quietly, almost a whisper. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

B-127 blinked, startled by the rawness in her voice. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, he was never good at hiding things. Never good at keeping quiet long enough to keep a secret. That had always been something about him. If something bothered him, everyone knew within five minutes.

But this? This he found hard to talk about.

He shrugged, staring down at his servos. "I... didn’t wanna make it worse," he mumbled. "Everyone already felt bad. You, Wheeljack, Ratchet, all of 'em. I figured if I started dumping my mess on you too... it’d just- y’know. Hurt more."

Elita’s spark ached. He had been hurting this whole time, trying to carry it by himself so that none of them would hurt more. Trying to protect them from his own guilt, when he was just a kid himself.

Without thinking, she reached out and pulled him into a rough, awkward hug, one arm slinging around his shoulders and dragging him close. He stiffened at first, then sagged against her like a tight cord finally snapping.

Words were never really her thing, that was always Optimus' job. Somehow, he could just... pull the right things out of the air, say them so confidently and perfect it made you believe him. Elita? She was better at actions than words.

But Bee needed something right now, and unfortunately, no amount of punching was going to fix this.

"Listen to me Bee, and pay attention because this is important” she paused for a second, waiting for his tiny nod to continue “You aren’t supposed to keep that slag bottled up. You're not a one-bot army” she muttered into his helm. "You don’t have to protect us from that, You don’t have to protect me”

Bee made a small, almost choked noise, but didn’t pull away. His servos clutched at the back of her frame like he was scared to let go.

"You’re not supposed to carry it all by yourself” she said, a little sharper now, voice rough. "You screwed up, fine. So did I. So has every bot in this rusted war. It doesn’t mean you gotta sit there and eat yourself alive over it”

She leaned back a bit and grabbed B-127’s helm so she could look him properly in the optics "You’re not- never were on your own, Bee. You hear me? You’re ours. Mine. And that means you don’t have to shoulder this like it’s your fault, because it isn’t kid”

Bee just blinked up at her, optics huge.

A second passed, and then without warning, B-127 threw himself at her, tackle-hugging her so hard they both nearly toppled sideways where they sat.

"Whoa- hey!" Elita barked, catching him on instinct, arms locking around him tight. Properly hugging him back once the surprise had passed and she could stabilize them.

They stayed like that for a moment, Bee just clinging to her like he did whenever he was feeling too much, like whoever he was hugging would just disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. 

"You know," he murmured against her chasis, voice full of mischievous affection, "Optimus is better at speeches”

Elita threw a flat look at the top of his helm. “Yeah, well, Optimus isn’t here right now, so you’re stuck with me, brat” Bee just laughed and leaned more into her.

They sat there holding onto each other for a little while longer, finally getting the comfort they both so desperately needed, the room quiet except for the low hum of the base around them. Elita was about to suggest they finally get up, maybe punch another wall or two just for good measure, when Bee spoke up again, voice softer.

"Hey Elita?" he mumbled into her armor "you're being kinda stupid too”

Elita froze “…Come again?"

Bee pulled back in a panic, just enough to look up at her and wave his arms in denial “No! Not like- I don’t mean you’re stupid! I meant that, well, it’s stupid that you keep blaming yourself. For what happened. For losing Optimus”

Elita opened her mouth, ready to bark something back, but B just kept going.

"It wasn’t just you," he said more firmly, voice now filling with confidence “It was all of us. I didn’t look back and see him follow, I wasn’t fast enough to get him. Ratchet and Wheeljack didn’t notice him wandering off. The others weren’t there to catch him either. We all messed up. You’re not the only one who lost him” 

Elita stiffened, jaw tight, but Bee wasn’t backing down. He even poked her chassis with a finger.

“We all lost him, Elita. If I’m not alone in this, you’re not either. Just because you’re in charge doesn’t mean you gotta carry all the burden by yourself”

He crossed his arms after that, glaring up at her like he dared her to argue.

Elita stared at him, stunned. For a second, she seriously considered shoving him over just to shut him up, but then the weight of what he said really hit her.

Slag. He was right.

She let out a rough sigh and dropped her helm forward, resting it lightly against his. "You're lucky you're right” she muttered, voice low “and cute, you little punk” she added in a more lighthearted tone.

B-127’s smile finally returned, grin wide and bright, the way it was supposed to be. “It’s part of my natural charm”

Elita snorted, grabbed him by the helm, and ruffled it roughly until he yelped and squirmed.  

After a few seconds of torture, he finally got himself free and turned to fully face her "So, what do we do now?" 

Elita leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. Her gaze was sharp, but there was a kind of calm to it now, a certainty that hadn’t been there earlier.

"Now” she said, voice low but steady, "we get Optimus back”

B-127 looked at her, searching, like he needed to be sure she meant it.

She met his optics without flinching. "We're not leaving him. No matter how long it takes, no matter what we have to do. He's ours”

B let out a shaky little laugh, almost disbelieving. "You really think we can?"

Elita let the smallest, rough-edged smile pull at her mouth. "I don't think, Bee. I know”

She reached out, ruffling his helm with a heavy, affectionate shove. "We’re bringing him home. And if Megatron tries to stand in my way-“ she shrugged, casual, almost lazy in the way she said it, "-I'm putting him six feet under myself”

Bee snorted, the sound small but real, the first genuine one in days. He leaned against her side a little, bumping shoulders.

Elita shifted, reaching out and putting her arm across his shoulders. They didn’t have a plan yet. They didn’t have all the answers. But they had each other, and they had the unwavering love they felt for the little sparkling they’d lost, a love that would drive them forward, no matter the odds.

Finally, with an air of confidence, Elita pushed herself up, offering a servo to B-127.

"Come on. Let’s tell the others. It’s time we start putting together a plan”

Bee grabbed her servo, pulling himself up with a determined nod. 

This wasn’t over. They would tear the sky apart if they had to, but they were going to bring Optimus home.

[spaceyaemonds]

pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: a quiet afternoon with dr. abbot.

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23), unplanned pregnancy, jack is divorced, not a widower and mentions of his ex wife, it is mention that reader and her mom talk often. please let me know if i missed anything. minors DNI.

note: more of a filler chapter(i’ll consider this 6.5 instead of 7 LOL)!!! just a little look inside them, and we will definitely be seeing more soon!!! jack and reader will meet each others moms next chapter!! also, thinking about doing more drabbles set in this universe, like the proposal, is there anything specific you guys want to see?? unedited. and as always, any feedback is extremely appreciated, it helps keep me motivated. especially reblogs/comments/asks!

wc: 960ish

prev next

Over the past eight weeks, you’ve just about changed Jack Abbot’s entire life.

He goes to a farmers market on Saturday’s, brunch on Sunday’s with your friends, actually eats decent meals and gets a good night's rest at least three nights a week.

Also, he’d never admit it outloud to anyone, but he’s pretty invested in Vanderpump Rules.

Currently, he’s got your feet in his lap while he reads a medical journal, one hand massaging your ankle. Every once in a while, he glances up at you to watch as you knit what he thinks is supposed to be a sweater.

Ever since finding out the gender of the baby almost a month ago, you’d been determined to at least make something for the baby to wear. You got good at knitting surprisingly quickly, and so far have made three hats, two pairs of socks, and started a blanket.

You’ve got your bottom lip tightly tucked into your teeth as you concentrate on the yarn in your hands, and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching over and gently thumbing it out from between your teeth.

Finally, he thinks to himself when you’re wide eyes meet his.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.” He gestures to your swelling bottom lip as you lick it.

“Sorry,” You let out a small giggle, “I didn’t even notice.”

He nods, hand going back to your ankle, “I figured.”

As he starts reading again, you take the time to watch him, head cocking to the side as you smile.

This hasn’t been so bad.

Sure, it’s been an interesting and difficult situation for both of you. But you like to believe that it could be worse.

He could’ve just not cared. Ignored you and went on with his life. Or pressured you into an abortion you didn’t want.

He could’ve done what he could to just take the baby the second she’s here.

But he really surprised you. He’s been so supportive and so good to you. It’s shocking, in all honesty.

You both feel a lot of guilt, though.

You think you’ve stuck him with you. That he’s only here out of obligation.

He thinks he’s ruined your life.

You work through it all, somehow. You talk him off his ledge more than he talks you off of yours, but you can tell when it’s eating at him more than he can with you.

Or so you think.

Jack likes to think he knows you pretty well despite the timeline of things.

He spends as much time as he can with you. Soaking up every moment of something he didn’t even think he ever wanted. Holds your hair back when you get sick. Rubs your back and feet when you ache. Tries some of the most interesting food combinations he’s ever heard of, some of which are better than others.

Fucks you when you’re insatiable and want him more than anything.

He isn’t quite sure it’s love yet, but he knows it’s on its way there.

He’s loved before. Hell he loved someone enough to marry her, but couldn’t love her enough to give her what you’re giving him.

Another source of guilt for him- one that he’s completely bared to you.

You didn’t know what to say, when he told you about what ate at him most. Why he couldn’t figure out what brought on the need, the desire, to do this with you, but he couldn’t even bring himself to try with her.

You just listen, rub his back, and whisper in his ear that some things just happened for a reason.

He appreciates you and the the way you just let him talk. Or just let him sit with you in silence. Whatever he needs, you somehow manage to give him.

One of the more recent favorites of his is when you take a bath. He can sit up against the cabinets under the vanity with a beer in his hand while you sit and talk about your day, things you want to do for the baby, or just read.

Life is more peaceful with you than he thinks it ever has been.

He glances back over at you, and sees the look in your eyes.

A look he knows all too well will result in him doing something he doesn’t exactly want to do.

“Spit it out, honey.”

You smile at the sound of his voice when he calls you honey.

“I was talking to my mom yesterday,” You trail off as he closes the journal he’s been reading and turns his body all toward you.

“Well?”

Jack knew your mom knew the basics, much like his own family did. How you got pregnant. How you met him. His age.

He knew that the last one had her concerned. Extremely.

The two of you talk most days, and she always gets distant when asking about the baby. Something about it makes him slightly uneasy.

“She’s coming to Pittsburgh next week. Wants us all to get together,” You look down, fidgeting with your fingers, “wants to meet you.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, making unease crawl up your chest.

It was a bad idea to bring it up.

“How do you feel about that?”

He sounds calm and collected, surprising you yet again.

“I mean, you are the father of her grandchild.”

You finally look back up at him, eyes meeting.

He sighs, shaky, “Is that all I am?”

You tilt your head to the side, “You tell me.”

It’s quiet for another beat before he shakes his head as he brings one of his palms to cradle your jaw.

“It’s only fair if you have to meet my mom, too.”

You laugh, nodding lightly before kissing his palm.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

He lets out a huff as he kisses the side of your head, “It’s a deal, then.”

[bunbunsadposting]

I feel this deeply, yes towards my partner, but also especially towards my new friends I have made, and old ones I've grown closer with, since starting my transition.

I had a therapist growing up that was always good at reading me, and I've often wished he had been around to help me when i was first realizing i was trans. Honestly, with his help I'd like to think I would have found myself a lot sooner.

But i think this is even more true of my friends that i have now. If younger me had people that supported them as much as my friends do now, I think things would have turned out different. Maybe my childhood would have seemed a little kinder.

With their influences, maybe i wouldn't have struggled so much with my depression for so long. Maybe I would be less anxious about trying to go out with friends, for fear of messing something up. Maybe I wouldn't feel the need to put up a facade of bickering and "sibling rivalry" with my best friends, when really I just care so deeply for all of them that I lack the ability to express it. Maybe, with them around, my family would have softened a little, and not judged so harshly when I finally came out to them.

There's so much that i'm grateful for, but I can't help but mourn all that could have been, if fate had been a bit quicker to bring us all together.

I doubt that any of my friends will ever see this, I'm posting on a side blog, and I dont think most of them are even on tumblr, but if they do, know that I will be forever greatful to you all, for being the wonderful people that you are.

"I wish we met sooner" is such a gentle sentiment. I love you so much I not only want you in my future, but in my past too. I want to have known you when we were small stupid kids, have held hands together as we played outside. I want to have stressed out over exams together, nudging a mug of still steaming hot chocolate against your elbow to get you to focus. I want to have told you I love you before I did anyone else. I want to have held you in my arms when all those sad memories you describe to me were still fresh wounds. I want my past to have been full of you, and full of meaningful memories with you. I want my past lives to have been spent with you, whether as two lovers, or two housecats cuddling by the fireplace on a snowy day, or two flowers that just happened to bloom on the same day, next to each other. I want to have consumed your existence and intertwined it with my own since my birth, never to be separated from you for a moment. I want to have loved you throughout it all, for all time.

[piroulinewafers]

requesting!!

possessive and jealous caleb who cant take the sight of mc in a little bikini. she looks so hood but he can’t let anyone else see her like this so he sucks and plays with her nipples till they’re so sore the only thing she can wear now are caleb’s oversized shirts

(also not sure if you take these requests but could she also be on the smaller chest side, totally okay if you don’t accept body specific requests.)

🫶🫶🫶

𝐚/𝐧: i've been thinking about this request for like a week hehe... admittedly my productivity is waining </3 i usually write pretty generally but i'm fine with body specific requests most of the time! i wrote this generally in line with such.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: caleb x fem! reader 𝐜𝐰: nipple play idk. 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: open.

caleb wasn’t sure who he was mad at more— the sun, the sea or that damn bikini that he should’ve never let leave the store rack. 

she stood by the shoreline, the little blue and white striped two-piece catching the light like it had a grudge against his sanity. the bows on her hips fluttered with the breeze, her shoulders shining with sunscreen that he had just applied, and her top— god help him— was the smallest piece of fabric he’d ever seen called clothing.

and she was tugging at it. adjusting it. wrapping her arms over her chest like she had something to hide.

she spotted him where he sat beneath the umbrella, arms crossed, jaw tight, trying his best not to make it obvious he was glaring holes into the horizon behind her. or maybe through the pack of guys playing volleyball a little too close for comfort and letting their eyes wander.

she trudged back toward him, the sand soft beneath her steps, leaving little prints all the way up to where he sat stiff-backed in the shade. she stood in front of him, pout already in place.

“gege,” she murmured, tugging at the strings at her back and turning halfway. “can you tighten this a little? it feel loose…” 

his sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he looked up at her.

loose? loose ?!

she was already wearing nothing as is basically.

but he didn’t say that. instead, he gave a tight grunt, rising to his feet, brushing the sand off his shorts. his hands were warm, large palms brushing over the delicate curve of her back as he reached for the thin strings. 

“i still think we should’ve gone later when it isn’t as busy,” he muttered, tugging the bow tighter with more force than necessary— though careful not to harm her.

“i wanted to come,” she said simply, softly. “it’s nice out. i thought it’d be fun.”

his jaw clenched as he knotted the string neatly and gave the bow a final tug on the right side. she shivered a little when his knuckles brushed against the bare skin of her spine.

“there,” he said softly, voice low. “snug.” 

she turned back around, adjusting the top with her hands as if she still wasn’t quite satisfied. her fingers toyed with the fabric, and then, of course, came the complaint. 

“it’s still kind of gappy…”

he blinked once. “gappy?”

she gestured vaguely at her chest. “i don’t fill it out that well…” 

caleb just huffed, shaking his head. “that top’s just too small, that’s what.”

“i-its not even that small, it’s gappy—“

he grunted. “it is. too small. way too small. what were you thinking wearin’ this in public?”

her head dipped. “you said beach day….” 

“yeah. i meant towels. sandcastles. maybe a bit t-shirt and one of those dumb sun hats you like.”

she whined softly and covered her face. “you’re being dramatic, gege. it’s a beach, i want to wear a cute bikini.”

“i’m been’ reasonable,” he muttered, already unscrewing the cap to the sunscreen. “now sit still.”

“gege, i already did it— “ she fussed.

“noe,” caleb cut her off, flipping the cap open with one thumb. “not good enough. you missed a few spots.”

“i didn’t— “

“you did,” he said firmly, and that was that.

she huffed again, drawing her knees up a little more after sitting down. he shifted behind her, making her lean forward just a little as he squeezed sunscreen into his palm.

“you act like you’ve never been in the sun before.” she muttered.

“not with you in that little thing,” he simple grumbled in return, rubbing his hands together before spreading gate lotion across her shoulders. 

she jumped slightly at the first touch. “it’s cold!”

“you’ll live,” he responded, but even he had to slow down, hands gliding with almost reverent pressure over her bare skin. her back was soft, and warm from the sun. his thumbs brushed over her shoulders blades, slowly working the sunscreen in with practiced care.

“stop squirming,” he added, palms sliding to her lower back. “you want me to miss somethin’ and let you burn up?”

“i said i already did my back,” she grumbled in response, voice muffled as she tried not to melt under his touch. “you’re so overbearing.”

“and yet here you are,” he replied , earning close enough that his breath tickled the shell of her ear. “lettin’ me do it anyways.”

she made a tiny noise but didn’t argue.

his hands roamed slow, methodical, smoothing every inch with ridiculous focus. it should’ve been quick— routine. but his brain was short-circuiting. she was warm and practically half-naked before him, dressed like a little dream and sounding like temptation ever time she sighed under his hands.

he swallowed hard and pulled away with effort. “alright. turn.”

she blinked up at him. “what? no, caleb— my front is fine, i did that part too—“

“did you get under the straps?” he pointed to the white little straps, gently flicking the bow at her shoulders as a part of the design. “or your collarbones? your nose? you always forget your nose.”

she gave him a look, but sighed and turned toward him, arms still loosely crossed over her chest. 

caleb raised a brow. “pips.”

she let them drop with a muttered, “you’re impossible.”

caleb tried to keep his face neutral, but it was hard when she sat there in front of him, shy and squirmy and absolutely not helping his ability to function. he warmed a little sunscreen in his hands agin, then started at her shoulders, thumbs brushing over the fragile bones beneath her skin.

“you’re tremblin’,” he lightly teased, voice lower now. “what’re you so nervous for?”

“you’re staring,” she mumbled.

“I have to look,” he said. “you want me to do it right, don’t you?”

she looked away, pouting and he softened a little. then he slide his fingers up, gently smoothing lotion down her collarbone, slow and careful. when he reached the top edge of her bikini, he hesitated for a second, then kept going, thumbs brushing just beneath the fabric’s edge, where the sun would hit.

she squeaked. 

“hold still,” he murmured, but his voice was rougher now, betraying the way he was very much not holding still inside. 

“i can do it myself,” she offered weakly.

“nope,” he answered, again, always the same. “i’ve got you.” 

he finished with her chest, fingers just barely brushing down the centre of her sternum before shifting his touch to her cheeks. she blinked when he dotted a bit on her nose, then spread it gently over her scrunched face.

his hands continued their descent however, fingers skimming the sides of her ribcage before coming to rest on the delicate curve of her chest. he could feel her heart point beneath his palms as he began to smooth the sunscreen again over her skin, his touch lingering and lingering until it bordered on a caress. 

her chest was small, barely a handful at best and even that was a reach. but they were subtle in shape but soft with a slope that disappeared gently into the flat of her sternum. there wasn’t much there, not by anyone’s standards, but it was hers. modest and understated, like the rest of her. maybe that was why is drove her insane. 

caleb traced the edge of the fabric, dipping just slightly beneath to tease the soft flesh underneath. she gasped softly, her back arching slightly as a holt of sensation shot through her.

 “caleb,” she whimpered, glancing around nervously to see if anyone had noticed his brazen touch. “not here, someone might see…”

“i don’t care, let them see. you’re drivin’ me mad.” caleb growled, his voice low and rough with desire. his hands covered her small mounds completely, kneading and squeezing the supple flesh until her nipples strained against the thin fabric of her bikini top, which admittedly wasn’t all that much of a challenge. he could feel them hardening beneath his touch, the pebbled peaks pressing into his palms as he rolled and plucked at them through the material.

“gege, please…” she begged, but her protest was cut off by a sharp gasp as caleb ducked his head, flipping the top downwards and caught one stiff nipple between his teeth. 

he sucked, hard, drawing the sensitive bud into the wet heat of his mouth as his hand continued to plunder and grope her other tender breast. she writhed beneath his touch, nails digging into his thigh as she fought the urge to cry out, soft, nervous pantings of his name leaving her. 

he seemed determined to mark her, to leave his claim on her body for all to see. he laved her nipple with his tongue, sucking hard enough to leave blooming red hickeys in the shape of his mouth. his fingers pinched and tugged at the tender buds, rolling them between the pads of his fingers until she could only whimper and moan helplessly. 

by the time caleb finally released her, her breasts were red and sore, puffy, the skin tender to the touch. her nipples throbbed, the flesh puffy and sensitive from caleb’s relentless assault. she could barelyy stand to have her bikini top brush against them, let alone the rough fabric of a towel. caleb seemed to take a perverse pleasure in her discomfort, smirking as he watched her squirm. 

caleb could see the way her small chest heaved with each shuddering breath, the way her nipples strained against the fabric of her bikini top. he knew he had her right where he wanted her— at his mercy, craving his touch even though she wished to push him away.

“look at you, so sensitive” he taunted, fingers plucking at her abused nipples. they were puffy and tender to the touch. despite her lack of endearment, he couldn’t resist the temptation to keep toying with them, rolling the stiff peaks between his fingertips till she was whimpering pitifully.

caleb’s eyes gleamed with a possessive light as he took in the sight of her abused flesh, small breasts mottled red, the skin incredibly sensitive and sore to the touch. he could practically see the outline of his fingers imprinted on the tender swell, the remnant of his hungry kisses. 

“i don’t think you’ll be able to wear that flimsy bikini top for the rest of the day.” he reached out and trailed a finger along the edge of the fabric, watching as she shuddered and bit her lip to keep from whimpering. “in fact, i don’t think you should wear the top at all.”

her eyes widened at his implication, huffing as she shook her head vehemently. “caleb, i can’t— “ she stammered glancing around the crowded beach nervously.

caleb’s response was swift and decisive. he grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head, revealing his muscular torso. 

her breath caught in her throat at the sight, her eyes roaming over the hard planes of his chest. caleb had always been fit, but the years in the daa and with the carapace fleet had honed his body into one sculpted by the gods. 

“no one will see,” he promised, “not if you wear my shirt. i won’t let anyone see you like this, with my marks all over your skin. i know you get embarrassed easily.” he smiled, tapping her nose as he tilted his head. “hm, is that it? are you embarrassed of your gege?”

he moved to help her put on his shirt, guiding her arms through the sleeves, his fingers brushing against her skin and sending little tingles of electricity in their wake. she shivered slightly at his touch, still feeling the lingering ache from his earlier ministrations. 

“here, let me help you,” he murmured, voice low and gentle as he eased the shirt down her torso, the fabric swallowing up her figure under she looked like the shirt was dwarfing her entirely. the shirt hung loosely on her, the neckline slipping off her shoulder and revealing the creamy expanse of skin there. caleb couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at the sight.

“there,” he let out, smoothing the hem down with both hands, a satisfied sound leaving his throat. “much better.”

she peeked up at him beneath her lashes, a soft little pout forming on her lips. “you’re a jerk.”

“damn right i am,” he said, brushing a hand along the curve of her jaw before tilting her chin up. “you walk around looking like that, and you expect me to share? not happening.”

his voice dipped low, right against her ear. “you’re mine.”

and with one arm sliding firmly around her waist, he kept her tucked beneath his side sitting on the beach towel— exactly where he wanted her. 

out of sight, out of reach, and all his.

[velvetinks]

She’ll Come When She’s Ready

Joel Miller x pregnant! Reader

Warnings: Labor/birth (mildly detailed but not graphic), mentions of past emotional conflict between Joel and Ellie (from the lie about the Fireflies), fluff, comfort, soft!Joel, protective!Joel, Ellie being there for reader, found family feelings, Joel crying (just a little)

It was snowing in Jackson when your contractions started.

You woke up to a tightness in your lower back and Joel pacing like he knew before you even said a word.

“You alright?” he asked, hovering as you sat up slow. His hand already found yours. “Was it a kick or…?”

“Not a kick,” you murmured, breathing through it. “I think she’s coming.”

Joel’s face went pale. Then full of panic. Then full of love. “Okay. Okay, sweetheart. We’ve got this.”

He’d never let go of your hand since.

Maria cleared the clinic for you. It wasn’t fancy—just two rooms, some clean linens, and Jackson’s one-and-only midwife, Nora, who Joel may or may not have threatened into staying up all night just in case.

Ellie showed up an hour later.

You were half-delirious from contractions when you saw her in the doorway—arms crossed, brows drawn, trying hard to look like she didn’t care but not moving from the threshold.

Joel tensed at the sight of her.

Ellie didn’t speak to him. Just looked straight at you.

“You okay?”

You nodded. “She’s taking her sweet time.”

Ellie gave a tight smile and stepped closer. “You want me to stay?”

Joel opened his mouth, probably to protest, but you reached for her hand first.

“Please.”

And so she stayed.

Not for Joel. But for you.

It was hours of labor. Sweat and tears and Joel whispering in your ear that you were the strongest person he’d ever known. Ellie fetched water, held your other hand, cracked a joke or two when your face twisted in pain.

“You sure it’s just one kid?” she said, lips twitching. “Because you’re making sounds like there’s three.”

You managed to laugh between contractions. “Ellie.”

“What? I’m just saying.”

Joel’s jaw twitched—clearly holding back a comment—but he stayed silent. For you.

When the pushing started, Ellie turned ghost-pale but didn’t leave. She held onto you tighter.

“You’re doing great,” she muttered. “You got this.”

You screamed. You cried. Joel kissed your forehead. Ellie wiped your brow. And finally—

There it was.

A baby’s cry.

Your daughter.

Joel’s hands were shaking as Nora handed her to you, swaddled in a soft blue blanket.

You barely heard anything but the sound of her little voice, the feel of Joel’s arms around your shoulders, the sob you weren’t sure came from him or you.

“She’s perfect,” you whispered.

Joel kissed your temple, voice cracking. “Just like her mama.”

Ellie stood back, eyes wide, mouth trembling like she didn’t know whether to run or cry.

You looked at her. “Wanna meet her?”

She hesitated. Then slowly nodded.

Joel didn’t move. Just sat still, baby in his arms, as Ellie came closer.

“She’s tiny,” she whispered.

“She’s fierce,” you said. “I can tell already.”

Ellie met Joel’s eyes for the first time in months.

Something unspoken passed between them. Regret. Pain. Something old that hadn’t quite healed.

But when Joel shifted the blanket so Ellie could see the baby’s little fist clench around his finger, he said quietly:

“Her name’s Hope.”

You watched Ellie’s throat bob.

And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t look angry.

She just looked soft.

“She’s lucky,” she said. “To have you both.”

Joel didn’t say anything. But he held your daughter like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Maybe she was.

That night, when the clinic was quiet, Joel held you close in the narrow bed, baby Hope nestled on your chest.

“She’s everything,” he whispered.

“She’s ours.”

He kissed your forehead.

“Think Ellie’ll ever forgive me?”

“She’s here. That’s a start.”

You felt Joel’s chest rise, fall. The kind of breath that holds hope in it.

“I just want her to know I’m trying,” he said. “For you. For the baby. For her.”

“She knows,” you said, eyes fluttering shut. “She’ll come around.”

Joel kissed the crown of your head and wrapped his arms around you both like he’d never let go again.

“She’ll come when she’s ready,” he murmured.

Just like your daughter did.

[itneverendshere]

it's my right to be hellish - r.c +18

pairing: : kelce's!sister x hockey!rafe warnings: angst; smut.

Empty cans and half-finished drinks were littering the space around you, the night felt perfect. You were tucked comfortably between Rafe's legs, his jacket draped over your shoulders, your head resting against his chest, while the latest round of Never Have I Ever brought loud laughter.

The drinking game had started out of the living room and spilled onto the wide wooden porch. Someone had dragged out an old speaker, and now a half-decent playlist played.

It was fun, being back home. Loud, tipsy fun, buzzing in your chest and making your cheeks hurt from smiling too much.

Rafe kept tracing patterns on your thigh that made it hard to focus on anything except him, Every once in a while, he’d lean down and kiss your temple, absent-minded like he couldn’t help it. 

He’d say something under his breath, usually about JJ or Toppeer being the worst at these games, and you’d laugh while his nose brushed your cheek. His fingers would kept tapping on your knee in rhythm with whatever song was playing.

Your brother was sitting on the steps with Topper, both of them halfway into their fifth drink, arguing about who should’ve been MVP.

They weren’t paying much attention to the game, which was honestly a relief. You loved Kelce, but you didn’t need him locked in on the way Rafe kept touching you, for his own sake.

Cleo was leaned up against Pope’s side, Kie was teasing JJ, who’d already spilled half his drink and was slurring his way through a story about falling off his board.

Everything felt warm and dumb and happy.

Rafe had just whispered something in your ear—about stealing you away later, after everyone passed out—and you were blushing, smiling into your drink, when the next “Never Have I Ever” was called out.

"Never have I ever..." someone called out—Sam. You didn’t know the guy, he was a junior who tagged along after games and Topper dragged him to Kildare this weekend.

"...slept with two people here."

It was stupid, a throwaway, someone laughed. Your brother made a dumb “ooOOoooh” noise.

You didn’t drink.

You didn’t notice at first—your head still leaned against Rafe’s chest, your cup balanced against your leg.

And then—quietly.

“Wait.”

JJ’s voice.

His eyes were wide, cheeks flushed with cheap tequila. “Wait,” he slurred again, blinking hard. “Why didn’t you two drink?”

The way he said it—the emphasis. You two.

Your eyes snapped to him, and that’s when you saw it—his head moving between you and Pope. Turning back and forth, exaggerated like it was clicking for him.

The implication wasn’t subtle and Rafe’s hand stilled completely.

JJ kept going, oblivious.

“Didn’t you guys, like... back in the day? That summer? When we were sixteen?”

Each word felt like a bomb dropping into your stomach.

Kelce’s head jerked up. “Wait—what?”

Pope’s posture went rigid, not looking at anyone, staring at the ground, hoping it might disappear and take him with it.

“I thought everyone knew,” JJ was confused now, trying to figure out what made the mood turn.

Nobody knew. Only Kie, JJ, you and Pope. Not even Sarah.

You were sixteen, younger, unsure of everything but how safe you felt around Pope. It hadn’t been serious or a thing. You liked him a little, sure, but never the way you liked Rafe. He made you laugh, and you used to sit with him in the library, pretending to work on some dumb english project neither of you cared about. You both just wanted a reason to stay longer.

You remembered how close you sat at that table, your knees would brush and neither of you would move, you’d share earbuds and lowkey forget about the book you were supposed to be reading.

It was innocent, sweet. One night, he came over to finish your final paper—Kelce was at a party, your parents were out, it was late, you were both tired and laughing at nothing—and it just... happened.

You didn’t plan it. 

You just looked at him too long, and he looked back, and then you kissed him and he kissed you and—it wasn't anything more than what it was. You lost your virginity to him that night.

The next day, you both kind of... moved on, it hadn’t changed anything. You stayed friends. 

The memory shattered against the present moment, and you blinked back into reality with everybody’s eyes on you.

Your brother was staring, sitting up straighter, confusion creasing his brow. Topper looked like he was waiting for the drama to explode. Kie wouldn’t meet your eyes. Cleo was watching Pope. Sam left.

Rafe hadn’t moved.

You turned toward him, cautious and that’s when he stood up.

No drama or yelling, only tugging his arm as your fingers instinctively reached for him.

“Gonna get a drink.”

He was gone, walking back into the house without another word.

The porch was silent, all you could hear was the music playing low through the speaker, something stupidly out of place.

JJ, finally realizing what he’d dropped, sank lower into his seat, whispering, “Shit… I’m sorry…”

Kelce was still gawking at you—not angry, only trying to process the last five minutes. Topper, for once in his life, was smart enough not to say anything.

Pope hadn’t moved. His hands clasped together between his knees, eyes focused on the floorboards, bracing for Cleo to say something.

“Alrigh’,” Cleo said with a little laugh, voice extremely calm for how tense the porch was, “that was a messy one. Let’s call that a warm-up and move it along, yeah?”

You looked at her and there was no anger on her face. 

“Y’all actin’ like they confessed to murder,” she added, head tilted, eyes briefly flicking to Pope—long enough to tell him we good. 

“I mean,” she continued, sipping her drink and leaning back against the railing, “y’all were sixteen.”

Kie let out a breath she’d been holding. “Yeah. Seriously. Prehistoric.”

Cleo waved her cup. “Next question. Something less nuclear. Who’s got one?”

You could’ve cried right there.

She was giving everyone a way out. Even Pope seemed to uncoil, his shoulders relaxing as he risked a glance her way. She met his eyes and gave the smallest imperceptible nod.

You on the other hand couldn’t relax, Rafe was still inside. And no matter how cool Cleo was, how well she was patching the mood back together, you needed to find him.

You turned to Kie, “I should go check on him.”

She nodded immediately. “Yeah. Go.”

Behind you, the game limped forward again—someone throwing out a weak “Never have I ever gone skinny dipping,” and a few forced chuckles followed.

Cleo leaned back into the railing, her drink raised just enough to signal a toast to no one in particular. “See?”

You moved down the hall, past the kitchen, past the half-empty counters stacked with liquor bottles and someone’s abandoned vape, past where Kelce had tossed his hoodie earlier—and still, no Rafe.

Your heart was in your throat now, fists tight at your sides.

Eventually, you found him inside one of the rooms—door cracked, lights off. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands clasped in front of his mouth.

You stayed in the doorway. “Rafe?”

He didn’t look up, and that’s when the real panic started. The messy kind that starts in your stomach and climbs up your spine.

Because he didn’t look mad.

“Can you just—say something?” you asked, “Please.”

Nothing.

And your brain was spiraling now.

He hates me. He thinks I lied. He thinks I’m disgusting. He’s probably rethinking everything. I wouldn’t blame him. He’s gonna walk away. This is it. This is how I lose him and I didn’t even do anything wrong but I still should’ve known, I should’ve said it, I should’ve—

“Rafe,” you said again, louder now. “We weren’t serious. We weren’t—”

His jaw flexed and it shut you up.

What the fuck?

Okay, fine. It was a surprise, but it wasn’t like you cheated. It wasn’t even during, it was years ago. And more than that—Rafe wan’t a saint before you. 

God, the night you two became official, literally that night, you heard a cheerleader gossiping in the bathroom about how she fucked him for two hours in a jacuzzi sophomore year. She’d laughed about it like it was a badge of honor. Said she tried again this year, too—while you and Rafe were already hooking up—but he turned her down.

What was the difference? You weren’t virgins. None of you were pure and untouched, saving yourselves for the perfect person.

Why did it suddenly feel wrong—something you should’ve hidden, something shameful? You weren’t ashamed when it happened, you were sixteen. You didn’t even know who you were yet, but you knew Pope was kind, he made you laugh, feel safe and it wasn’t a life-changing romantic tragedy.

You wanted to ask him how the fuck it’s any different than the girl in the bathroom or the other stories you’ve had to hear secondhand over the years before you got together. But your heart was also twisting and telling you it was your job to fix this.

You shut the guest room door behind you harder than you meant to, not slammed, but loud enough that it made Rafe flinch.

“Are you seriously gonna sit there and say nothing?”

Your voice already sounded wrong.

He chose to keep staring straight ahead, hoping the moment would dissolve if he didn’t engage.

“Say something,” you snapped.

Silence.

That did it.

“Rafe—grow up.

His head jerked toward you then, “Grow up?"

"That's not what I m—"

"You’re the one who kept it a secret.”

“There was nothing to tell.

“You slept with Pope.”

You reeled back like he just spat in your face. “So fucking what?”

His hands were fisted, elbows braced on his knees. “You don’t think that’s something I deserved to know? T-that you fucked a mutual friend? Lost your virginity to him?”

“Excuse me?” He must’ve been out of his fucking mind. “No,” you laughed, disbelieving, “Absolutely not. You do not get to throw that at me like I fucking owe you that confessional.”

“I’m just saying—”

“You’re just saying what, Rafe?” you barked, stepping forward. “That because I didn’t sit you down and cry about who I lost it to, that I’m what—dishonest? A fucking liar?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s exactly what you said!” You were yelling, it scraped your throat and left your lungs raw. “Who the fuck did you lose your virginity to? Huh?” You jabbed a finger at his chest. “Was it that girl from Figure Eight who used to sneak out of church to meet you behind the dunes? Was it the lifeguard? That barista you ‘don’t even remember the name of’?”

His mouth opened, but no answer came out.

“Exactly,” you scoffed. “You never told me. I never asked, it doesn’t fucking matter. I know—I trust—that what we have now is real.”

“It’s different,” Rafe growled, “You’re still close with him! You had a project together —last month, for fuck’s sake—”

You blinked at him, stunned. “So what?!”

“So it’s not ancient history!” he shouted. “You see him every other day, you talk to him—”

“And? And what?” you demanded. “I’m—secretly in love with him? I’m gonna leave you for Pope because we had sex one time when we were sixteen? Grow the fuck up!”

You knew this wasn’t about Pope. It was Rafe, how he’d never had to feel small in someone’s eyes before, never talked about his parents divorce, and now he didn’t know how to sit with it.

He didn’t answer, and it wrecked you.

You threw your hands out, helpless.

“What do you want me to say? That I wish it never happened? You want me to rewrite my whole fucking life to make you feel better?”

His eyes snapped up at that, wild, the blue in them flickering like flame.

“I want to not fucking picture it every time I see you standing next to him from now on,” he exploded, the first honest thing he said since you walked in.

Your jaw dropped open, breath punched out of you. “You are so—wrong. Jesus, Rafe. You are so fucking wrong.”

He looked like he might break in half from hearing you say it.

“I don’t know. I don’t know, okay? I’ve never done this before. I’ve never—fuck—I’ve never loved someone like this before. It’s making me lose my mind.”

“It wasn’t serious. You and me—this is the most serious thing I’ve ever had.” You pressed your hand flat against your chest, hoping it held your heart together. “I have never, not once, made you feel like you weren’t everything to me. And you’re sitting here, making me feel like some dirty little secret because of something that happened when I was a fucking kid.”

He ran a hand down his face, eyes closed. You saw the tremble in his shoulders that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with fear.

“Why did it have to be him?”

“What?”

His voice was strained. “Why did it have to be Pope?”

Not the fact that it happened, but who it happened with. What does that mean now?

“We were kids. It wasn’t planned.”

Rafe laughed bitterly. “Yeah. He’s still around, still in your life. Still—"

The way he spat that word out.

You stepped toward him, “Do you think I want him?”

“Was it good?” he asked suddenly, sharply, it leaped out of him before he could stop it. “With him?”

You stared at him, gut twisting. “Don’t do that.”

“I want to know.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.” His voice cracked. “Because if it was... if it meant something—"

“You’re asking because you want to hurt.”

You folded your arms across your chest, as if it could somehow shield you from this version of him—this paranoid, desperate, spiraling version you didn’t recognize.

“It meant nothing. You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t know.” His laugh was hollow, “You didn’t tell me before.”

“It wasn’t a secret—”

“I never even asked you about your exes,” he spat, turning on you suddenly. “I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to think about you with anyone else. But now—fuck—it’s in my head and I can’t unsee it. I had to hear it from JJ, of all people, at a fuckin’ party. Like it was a joke.”

You flinched, because yeah—you hadn’t thought about it like that.

Rafe’s voice dipped, gutted: “He said you two. Like it’s still happening.”

“It’s not, baby. You know it’s not.”

“You hang out. You text. You sit in his passenger seat and you laugh at his jokes and—”

“And what? What do you think that means?”

His face was twisted, stuck somewhere between heartbreak and humiliation. You saw the insecurity chewing him up from the inside out. You understood what was happening. Rafe had always been the one who knew more, the one with stories you had to smile through, girls you never named but always noticed. But one old hidden memory of yours—one ancient, dusty, barely-relevant chapter—was enough to make him unravel. 

“I know what it sounded like, when JJ said it.” Your voice wavered, “It sounded wrong, like it was more than that, but it wasn’t and it isn’t. You know JJ—he doesn’t think before he speaks. He doesn’t get that it would land like that.”

Even if you understood why he was acting this way, it didn’t make it hurt less that he doubted you.

“I’m with you,” you reminded him through your teeth. "You don’t get to sit there and make me feel like I’m ruining this.”

“You’re not,” he added quietly.

“Then what the fuck is this, Rafe? What are we doing right now?”

He looked at you like you slapped him—but you were past coddling him through this, you were beeling for him and it sill didn’t look like it was enough.

“I didn’t come here to beg for your forgiveness for something that happened when I was sixteen. You want to be mad? Fine. Be mad.”

“You two make sense. Anyone but me."

“What?” It hit you like ice water. “You think I settled for you?”

“No,” he muttered, avoiding your eyes. “I think you picked me even though you shouldn’t have. And one day, you’re gonna realize that. And when you do—”

You're gonna leave him like his mom left Ward.

You didn’t let him finish. “Don’t.”

“You’re gonna leave. And I won’t be mad. I’ll understand, I always knew I didn’t deserve this.”

You went still, heart dropping so fast, you swore it made a sound

“You think that little of yourself?” you asked, “I don’t want anyone else. That chapter’s over, it’s been over.”

He looked at you then, chest heaving, eyes bloodshot and glassy.

“I love you in a way I never did anyone else—and I never will. Do you hear me?” you say, stepping closer. “I love you.”

He swallowed.

“And if you can’t trust that—then maybe we don’t work. But don’t you dare reduce me to a choice I made when I was sixteen because you’re scared.”

“I didn’t mean to—” he choked out. “I didn’t want to…”

“You love me?” you asked.

His eyes shot to you, almost panicked.

“I love you so much it makes me fucking sick,” he said, voice ragged. “And I hate that it makes me like this.”

You flinched because you felt that too. You took a breath that hurt on the way in, looking at the boy you loved—the boy who was spiraling through self-hate and fear.

“I’m so fucking scared of losing you,” he confessed.

You were torn between screaming at him or dropping to your knees and holding him until the shaking stopped. Rafe rubbed at his eyes, hoping to wipe the shame off, and when he glanced back at you, his eyes were desperate. 

You crossed the space between you in three steps.

He had no time to react before your hands were on his face, cupping his cheeks, your thumbs sweeping over the edge of his cheekbones, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Look at me.”

He didn’t at first, so you tried harder.

“Rafe. Look at me.”

When he finally did, there was that ache in your chest again.

“I’m not gonna pretend I know what it’s like in your head. But I do know you. You’d rip yourself to pieces before you ever hurt me on purpose.”

“But I did hurt you.”

You nodded. “Yeah. You did.”

His bottom lip quivered.

“I still love you,” you added, “Even when it hurts when you push and say shit you don’t mean.”

Rafe exhaled a sound that was almost a sob, pulling you into his chest, unable to stand the space between you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, again and again, mouth pressed to your temple, “I’m so sorry.”

You held him, fingers threading through the back of his hair, knowing it always soothed him.

“I didn’t mean to—I just—fuck, I got scared. It’s ugly. I know it’s ugly.”

You shook your head, brushing his hair back, lips trembling as you leaned in and kissed him. His mouth opened against yours, a muffled groan catching in the back of his throat as you deepened it, tasting every ounce of his devastation.

You pushed him back onto the bed and followed, knees straddling his thighs, never breaking the kiss. His fingers dug into your waist and then up your thighs as you pulled back, noses brushing, your breaths mingling in the dark.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you reminded him, forehead resting against his.

Rafe exhaled shakily, trying not to cry.

“I’m not gonna leave when shit gets hard.”

His eyes squeezed shut. “I know. I know, I—I get this voice in my head and it says, this is where she leaves you. And I believe it. Every time.”

“Believe me harder.” You kissed him again, “You’re it for me. You’ve always been it.”

Rafe pulled you in, holding you against his chest, kissing you over and over—mouth, cheeks, jaw,—whispering apologies into your skin like prayers, voice shaking on every one.

“Don’t push me away again. I need you to try. You can’t shut down when something scares you.”

He nodded, absorbing each word one at a time. “Never,” he swore, “I’d rather die.”

“We’re okay?”

“We are,” Rafe promised instantly, “We are, baby. I’m sorry.”

You nodded, your arms curling around his neck as he sat up, kissed you hard, deeper than before—a vow. His hands were on your back, sliding down, pressing into the dip of your spine, then lower.

You felt his teeth graze your bottom lip, a quiet hum escaping him when you tugged his hair the way he liked, your name leaving his lips as a sigh, a prayer.

Your hips rolled against his without thinking and he moaned, hands tightening on your skin, grinding you against him as he turned his attention to your neck, teeth scraping, tongue soothing, sucking bruises because he needed to leave marks. 

Those pretty deep plum echoes he yearned to see, indigo and aubergine proof that you were his, that he could still have you after everything, that you wanted him still. 

Rafe rasped your name, forehead dropping to your shoulder, full body jerking up to meet yours. You pawed at the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head within seconds, fingers immediately splaying across his bare chest. His skin was flushed as you dragged your long nails down his torso only to feel the way he shuddered.

He pulled at your shirt just as desperately, tongue only abandoning yours for a second, enough to strip it off and toss it somewhere behind you both. His hands cupped your breasts through your bra, brushing over your nipples until you gasped into his mouth, arching into him, begging without words.

“I need you,” he breathed, eyes locked on yours, pleading. “Please—need to feel you. That you still want me.”

You crushed your lips against his as an answer, letting him taste the promise in it.

“I am yours,” you muttered against his mouth. “Always been yours.”

Rafe wasted no time licking your chest as he unclasped your bra, every second of waiting pure agony. He mouthed at your skin, worshipful, leaving wet kisses along the tops of your breasts before taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make your hips jump against him.

God, the way he looked at you—you were squirming, moving shamelessly, your body begging for him. He grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing, lifting you to rock your soaked core harder against the perfect line of his cock. 

“You have no idea what you do to me…”

You did. You felt it every single day.

The lamplight washed over you both, casting shadows on your rich, warm skin—deep brown with undertones that reminded him of sunset light, the same shade he remembered from that first party last semester, when he saw you laughing under string lights, glowing, and thought, God, she's gonna be mine.

Rafe’s pupils were blown wide, lips swollen while his hands were under your thighs, lifting you enough to stand and shove your jeans and underwear down your legs in a desperate motion. His eyes dropped, breath hitching at the sight of you bare.

His rough hands ran up the backs of your legs, spreading over the curve of your ass. “You’re perfect. You’re—fuck, baby, I—”

You cut him off because if he kept talking you were going to lose it before he touched you properly. You climbed back into his lap, scorching skin meeting denim, the thick ridge of his cock caught the way you needed. The groan he let out went straight to your pussy.

“Off,” you begged against his mouth, tugging at his belt, the button of his jeans. “Now.”

He didn’t hesitate, pants and boxers gone in seconds, and then he was there, painfully hard against your thigh. Your body clenched at the sheer size of him as you looked down between you, pink flushed tip leaking.

You dragged your hand over him and his head fell back, jaw going slack, eyes fluttering shut. His hips bucked helplessly into your palm, breath stuttering as you teased the tip, spreading his precum with your thumb.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, “Only yours.”

He opened his eyes then, grabbing your wrist, pulling away, guiding you to straddle him again. Lining himself up with shaky hands and whispering, "Please... I need to feel you. Need you to take me, baby, please—"

You slid down onto him in one slow, wet glide.

The stretch made your whole body shudder—He was deep, every inch claimed by you, and the sounds he made—guttural, painful—made your eyes roll back.

Rafe’s forehead dropped to your chest while he gripped you hard enough to hurt. “I’m gonna—fuck, I can’t—”

You rocked your hips, teasing, and he cursed again, trying so hard not to lose it. His hands ran up your back, fingertips pressing into your spine.

“Get on your knees for me, baby.”

You obeyed without a word, legs embarrassingly shaky as you turned in his lap and leaned forward onto your hands, ass arched high, heart pounding. Before you settled fully, he yanked you back, keeping your spine curved but tugging your upper body to rest against his chest.

He knelt behind you, your back pressed tight to his torso, thick muscular thighs bracketing yours. One arm wrapped around your middle, the other spreading your legs wider.

He pushed back inside, and you whined—again—because no matter how many times he took you, it always felt like the first. The drag of his cock along your folds made your hips stutter back against him in plea.

Rafe’s mouth was at your ear in a flash.

“Gonna fuck you just like this. Keep you open for me.”

That hand around your stomach slid lower, holding you firm as he rocked his hips—sinking back inside you with a groan like it was killing him. Your hands scrambled for purchase, gripping the edge of the bed, the sheets—anything—as he filled you over and over, the angle so intense it stole your breath.

His chest was pressed to your back, skin on skin, drooling over your shoulder. Slow at first, torturously slow. His hips rocking into you, dragging his cock along every sensitive inch, hitting that spot deep deep inside that makes you clench like an animal in heat.

You shuddered, back arching harder as he twitched inside you again in the span of seconds. He pressed you harder to him, his nose buried in your curls, mouth dragging lazy kisses along your neck.

Rafe's hand roamed your body eagerly—over your belly, your ribs, up between your breasts where he cupped one roughly.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he hissed, rutting up into you, the slap of skin on skin getting louder, “Say it.”

“You—fuck—Rafe, I’m yours,” You gasped when he ground even deeper. “I’m yours, a-always yours.”

You were being used, held open, filled—but loved, too. Worshiped

His hand dropped teased lower, down your stomach but he didn’t rush it. His palm cupped your mound, simply resting there for a moment while he fucked up into you with punishing thrusts.

“Rafe, I need—”

“I know what you need,” he breathed. “…I’ve got you."

His fingers found your clit, slicking through the mess between your thighs before circling it enough to make your eyes roll back. The tease of it made your whole body clamp down around him, and he swore, pace faltering as your walls gripped him like a vice.

Your mouth fell open as he only circled your clit harder.

“Can’t stop touching you,” he murmured, licking your jaw between words. “You’re so fucking perfect. Look at you.”

You could hardly offer a whimper, your head falling against his shoulder again, trying to ride his hand too.

Rafe chuckled low, breath warm on your skin.

“Greedy girl,” he tsked. 

You shook your head desperately. “More."

He grunted into your neck, thrusting up harder, chasing the feeling of you milking him. Your thighs started to tremble like leafs again, muscles burning, as his touch worked you closer, closer, closer.

You came with a strangled cry, body bucking in his arms, your inner walls pulsing hard. Without a single warning, Rafe shifted positions, guiding you down onto your side, still behind you, still inside you.

His arm hooked under your leg, lifting it, opening you wider as he started to fuck into you again—a mean pounding that had your eyes rolling back in your head, into another galaxy.

The new angle hit even deeper, every movement drawing a wrecked moan from your lips. Your body was sensitive, but especially needy.

Rafe kissed your shoulder, “Gimme more, baby. I need it.”

His hand trailed to the inside of your thigh, gripping behind your knee as he pressed it up and back, opening you fully to him. Your cries came out sweeter, tinged with the overstimulation and the love that dug under your ribs.

“I don’t d-deserve you,” he said again, voice broken, forehead pressed to the back of your neck, hips rolling forward.

You turned your head, lips finding his cheek, tasting the salt of his tears.

“You’re not losing me” you kissed the corner of his mouth, and he turned, catching you in a desperate kiss.

“Gimme another one,” he murmured, dragging his cock deeper with slow, relentless thrusts. “You’ve got more for me. I know you do.”

You whimpered, leg still hooked over his arm, the angle hitting that spot that had you seeing stars. “T-too much."

“I know,” he rasped, “But you can take it. Lemme give it to you.”

“Rafe—fuck—” you gasped, squirming in his arms, nails digging into the sheets as you writhed.

“That’s it,” he praised, hips grinding forward against your swollen, aching walls. “Look at you, so fucking wet, so f-fucking tight—begging for it even when you say you can’t take more.”

Your body was already clenching down, your noises dissolving into sobs. Rafe could feel it, your body giving in, could hear the desperation in your gasps, how you kept pushing into him chasing that last drop of control.

You sobbed, thighs quivering uncontrollably. “Rafe—fuck—I’m coming—”

Your whole body snapped tight, stealing your words. You cried out, body locked tight as your seconds orgasm tore through you without any proper warning.

Rafe didn’t slow down. You didn't have time to recover before his hand was sliding down again, his mouth hot on your neck.

If he kept that shit up, he was gonna fuck you into your next life.

“One more,” he whispered, “Please—give me one more. Wanna feel you fall apart on my cock again.”

You gasped, overstimulated but burning for it anyway. Your pussy gushed around him, your body was already saying yes, even if your mind couldn’t form the words. He moved, pulling your hips back, laying you flat on your stomach now as he climbed over you, bracketing your body with his. His cock pushed back into you, still so hard.

“I’ll make it good,” he promised, “Lemme make it good for you.”

You sobbed into the mattress, tears slipping down your nose and onto the cotton as your body trembled beneath him, overwhelmed and woozy, but your hips rolled to meet him anyway—because fuck, you needed him.

He was shaking too — from the effort, from the need — but his focus was singular. Your pleasure.

Rafe slowed only to press a kiss to your shoulder.

“Just one more, pretty girl.”

You whimpered, body too sensitive to move but too addicted to stop, back bowed to take him deeper. 

“I can’t,” you drew in a sharp breath. “Baby, I can’t—”

“Yeahhh, you can.” His hand slid beneath your hips again, guiding your body where he wanted it — needed it. “Know you can. You’re fuckin’ made for this. F'me.”

He rolled his hips slow, hitting where you needed him to with surgical precision. He did it again, and again — each thrust dragging a pitful cries from you.

“S'fuckin' sweet, even when I don’t deserve it.”

Your walls fluttered around him, and Rafe whined like it killed him

“Right there,” he muttered like a man possessed. “Yeah, fuck, there she is.” He pressed yet another peck to your back, “Feel that, baby? T-that’s me. That’s allll me.”

You were moaning higher, it was so much —him inside you, the sound of his voice by your ear, coaxing you, commanding you—

He breathed a sinful: “C’mon, baby. Let go f’me.”

You shook your head, but your body betrayed you.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked,” he rasped, “So wet, even now—fuck. I feel it. I f-feel you.”

His rhythm never broke — grinding thrusts, pulsing inside you, fingers stroking your clit with maddening perfection. You sobbed, already floating away, face pressed into the mattress.

“Don’t fight it,” he said. “Lemme fuckin’ feel it.”

“Rafe—oh my god—babyyy—”

“That’s it,” he growled. 

Your body arched off the bed, hands clawing around the sheets, vision going white as your third orgasm ripped through you like lightning. You screamed his name, sobbing, pulsing, dripping, shaking from the force of it.

“Fuuuck—” Rafe gasped, gripping your hips like he’d fall apart without them. “That’s my girl. That’s my fucking girl. You’re gonna make me—fuck, not gonna last.”

He tried to pull out, give you a second to breathe, be a gentleman — but the moment his cock started to slide free, your body clenched one more time around him while you let out a desperate sound that made him bite his tongue.

“Shit—don’t do that,” He hissed, “You want it that bad?”

You nodded weakly, unable to spit out words, but your body said everything —still hungry for him even after everything he’d given you.

“Shittt,” he cursed, and then he lost it.

Rafe grabbed onto you like you weighed nothing, driving back with a brutal thrust, and another, frantic, his control unraveling completely. His chest was plastered to your back, his teeth pulling at your skin, and the filthy sounds filled the room— skin slapping, breath hitching, your name falling from his lips.

He choked out: “So fuckin’ tight, baby, I can’t—oh my god—fuck.”

You felt it before he said it — his whole body locked up, pushing so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

He cried out — long and wrecked — as he spilled inside you, thick ropes of cum flooding you, until it leaked down your thights, so much. His whole body shuddered with it, one arm squeezing the shit out of you, the other fisting the sheets.

“Mine,” he breathed into your skin, voice trembling, “You’re mine. Mine, mine, mine.”

Each word came with a desperate thrust, the final one hitting so deep it knocked the breath from your lungs, your body locking down around him, trying to keep him there forever.

Rafe stayed there, panting, breath coming in broken bursts as the aftershocks ran through him. His heart was hammering against your back, his grip softening but not letting go. You could feel his cum dripping out around where he was still plugged inside.

He mouthed at your shoulder, less feral than before, coming down from his high, but not ready to let you go.

“Baby,” he rasped, “I didn’t mean to—did I hurt you?”

Your lashes fluttered, you couldn’t speak yet, instead you held his hand where it wrapped under your stomach and slid your fingers between his.

“You okay?” he brushed your sweaty curls off your neck, voice worn from how he’d been growling your name into the air minutes ago. “Still with me?” 

You turned your head to catch his blue eyes —swollen lips parted. “It was perfect.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded weakly, but even that small movement sent a pulse of overstimulation through your core. Rafe shifted inside you, and a helpless sound slipped from your lips.

“Fuck—sorry. I know, baby, I know.”

You hummed, with no strength to move —and honestly, you didn’t want to.

“You’re still squeezin’ me,” He muttered in disbelief. “God, you feel so good—don’t wanna leave you yet.”

He rolled over slowly, pulling you with him so you were sprawled across his chest, the sticky heat still between your thighs as he slipped out of you, groaning at the overstimulation.

“Shh, I got you. I got you,” He was already pulling the blanket up to cover your bare body, brow furrowed in that serious way he only got when he was taking care of you.

One of his hands trailed up your back, the other rested low, thumb lazily brushing where his cum was starting to leak out. He looked down, eyes fixed on that mess he made, and something satisfied curled in his expression.

You, all of you— rich dark skin glowing with sweat and cum, curls wild against the pillow, beautiful lips swollen from his kiss — made him curse under his breath. You hid your face in his chest, groaning, but Rafe laughed, still breathless.

His hand came up to your face, tilting it so you’d look at him. That sweet, almost boyish look flickered over the lust now — the Rafe that wanted to be loved back.

“I don’t deserve you."

You shook your head, turning to kiss him, coaxing him back into calm. He swallowed hard, a shaky hum escaping him while he held your face in both hands like you were something he had to earn. 

Precious. “Still mine?”

You nodded, exhausted, ruined, filled. “Still yours.”

From outside the door, a very familiar voice cracked through the silence — unapologetic, and directed at the two of you.

“Shit,” you both hissed at the same time.

“I KNEW Y’ALL WERE GONNA DO THIS IN MY ROOM!” JJ’s voice rang through the house again. “You couldn’t wait—two seconds? Goddamn, y’all had a whole audience before you started ripping each other’s clothes off!”

You groaned into Rafe’s chest, laughing, half-mortified.

“I’m gonna die.”

Rafe didn’t pretend to be sorry.

He dragged the blanket higher, wrapped his arms tighter around you, and muttered into your hair, “Should’ve kept his mouth shut earlier.”

“Y’all traumatized everyone,” JJ hollered again.

You were shaking from trying not to laugh, face hidden against Rafe’s chest, while he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.

“It's his fault. If he didn’t start shit, I wouldn’t’ve had to fuck you like that.”

“YOU’RE STILL IN THERE TALKING!” JJ screeched. “What the fuck are y’all doing, cuddling?!”

Rafe shouted back lazily, “Cuddling the fuck out of her, bro.”

“IN MY BED?!”

“Shouldn’t’ve run your mouth.”

“I’M BURNING THE SHEETS, MAN!” echoed down the hall.

[mintyys-blog]

Hi minty, hope you're not to busy but could you please do for main mark and variants reaction to reader suffering from amnesia after they accidentally hurt her . Like what would their reaction be knowing they're the reason she doesn't remember them .

HEADCANONS | variants with s/o who doesn’t remember them

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | WARNINGS: violence, blood

Do not repost, translate, or rewrite my work, whether AI-generated or otherwise, without my permission. — © @mintyys-blog

MAIN MARK:

It wasn’t meant to go this far.

Mark paced the apartment like a caged animal. His fists clenched, jaw tight. The mission had gone sideways again—too many civilians caught in the crossfire, too many expectations shoved on his shoulders from Cecil, from the world, from himself.

“I’m just saying,” you said gently from the kitchen, “you don’t have to do this alone.”

“I am alone!” he snapped, spinning to face you. “No one understands what it’s like. You think you get it, but you don’t. You can’t!”

You stepped forward, unafraid. “Mark, I love you, but you are spiraling. I’m trying to help you before you lose—”

“I said shut up!” he roared, slamming his fist into the load-bearing pillar.

You both froze at the cracking sound above.

You looked up.

“Mark—”

The ceiling groaned. Then it gave. The chandelier—old, heavy, forgotten—fell faster than either of you could react. His scream echoed too late. The glass and metal hit you square in the back. You crumpled like paper.

The silence afterward was deafening. He was on his knees beside you in seconds, glass slicing his hands as he tried to move the wreckage.

You were still breathing. But your eyes fluttered, unfocused. When they finally opened fully, he grabbed your face in both hands. “Hey—hey, baby, stay with me. It’s me. I got you. You’re gonna be fine.”

“…Who are you?” Mark froze. And something in his chest just stopped.

VILTRUMITE MARK

You stood on the battlefield, torn between the bloodied rebel leader on the ground and the man you loved—hovering above like a god of war.

“Don’t do this,” you called up to him, sweat and wind whipping across your face. “He surrendered. Killing him now doesn’t prove anything.”

Mark’s eyes burned red. “You think I care about surrender? He killed dozens of my soldiers. He’s filth.”

You flew up beside him. “You’re not a killer, Mark. Not like them. Please…”

“Get out of the way.”

“No.”

He moved fast. Just a push. A flick of his arm to send you gently aside. Except nothing he did was ever gentle.

The air cracked with pressure. Your body spiraled back like a ragdoll, crashing into a sharp ridge of obsidian rock with a sound that made him sick.

He turned mid-sentence. You weren’t moving.

When he finally reached you, he saw the blood trailing from your ear, the glaze in your eyes as they blinked up at the sky.

He crouched beside you, voice hoarse. “It’s me. You’ll be fine. It’s me.”

You looked at him. And then asked, in a whisper: “Am I dying? I don’t know… who you are…” He couldn’t answer. Not because he didn’t have words—but because the pain was too loud.

MOHAWK MARK

You and Mark were tracking down a back-alley smuggler in a dirty corner of Chicago. He was wired—too much caffeine, too little sleep, muscles twitching from weeks of stress.

The moment he saw a figure leap from the shadows, he moved on instinct. His fist swung hard—too hard. You barely got his name out before the blow connected.

You slammed into the alley wall, your head cracking against the brick with a sickening sound. Your body dropped at an angle no human should bend. “No no no—shit!” Mark dropped to his knees beside you, already pulling you into his arms. “C’mon, babe. Please. Say something.”

Blood on your temple. You’re breathing shallow. His hand trembled as he brushed hair out of your face. You stirred—barely—and blinked up at him. Your brows drew together. “You… you look scared…”

“Yeah, well,” he whispered, trying not to cry, “I kind of just hit the person I love in the head.”

“Do I… know you?” Mark didn’t react right away. He just nodded once, slow and hollow. “You.. did.”

OMNI MARK

The strategy room was quiet, save for the low hum of satellite feeds.

You were arguing again.

“You’re talking about millions of people, Mark!”

“And I’m trying to save billions. Don’t twist this.”

“I’m not. I’m trying to save you.”

He turned too fast. Your hand was on his arm—and in a blink, he threw you. It wasn’t meant to be violent. Just a reflex. But he forgot how fragile you were. You slammed into a glass console. Shards embedded in your back, one slicing into your skull.

Time slowed.

He didn’t move for three seconds. Then everything blurred. He carried you out of the room like you weighed nothing. Blood coated his hands.

Later, when you woke up, the medics stepped back as he leaned in. “It’s me,” he said. “Mark.” You stared at him, confused. “I’m sorry. Are you… uh— who?”

For once, Mark had nothing to say. He left without a word.

PRISONER MARK

It had been months since the escape. Since you found him barely surviving in the woods, shaking, paranoid, haunted by what he’d done and what he’d become.

You let him stay. Fed him. Sat with him on the porch at night.

You thought he was healing.

But trauma doesn’t leave gently.

One night, he woke up screaming—sweat pouring down his chest, breath ragged. His vision blurred.

He saw enemies. Shadows. A phantom invader.

You entered the room, startled. “Mark?”

He lunged.

The force knocked you to the ground. His hand struck your temple hard, and your head bounced off the floorboards. Blood immediately followed.

He froze above you.

You weren’t moving.

“No no no no no—no—” he pulled you into his arms, crying now, shaking your shoulders. “It’s me—it’s me—it’s just me…”

When your eyes opened, you looked up at him. Frightened. Confused. “Who are you?” Mark didn’t scream.

He just pulled you into his chest, rocked you like a child, and whispered: “I’m the man who ruined everything.”

SINISTER MARK

He hated how easily you smiled at others.

You were the only soft thing left in his life, the only constant in the storm that was his fractured mind. And the more people you gave your warmth to, the more he felt it slipping out of his grasp.

Tonight was no different.

You’d just gotten home from work, rambling about a new coworker. A guy. A kind one, apparently.

Mark sat at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, eyes locked to the floor.

“He just offered to cover my shift next week,” you said, unaware. “It was sweet of him.”

“Did he touch you?”

Your voice stalled. “…What?”

“Did he touch you?” Mark repeated, lifting his gaze now, sharp and glassy with something dangerous. “Your arm. Your back. Your waist?”

You took a step back, your stomach twisting. “Why does it matter?”

“It matters,” he said, standing slowly, “because you’re mine.”

He didn’t shout. He didn’t throw a punch.

But the tension radiating from him cracked the windowpane behind him, the glass splintering from sheer pressure. The bookshelves shuddered. One of them—loaded and poorly anchored—tipped.

It happened too fast. You turned, but it was too late. The bookshelf fell with a heavy thud, slamming into your head and shoulder. You dropped like a stone. Mark blinked.

Then everything in him went cold. He was at your side in a breath, pulling debris off your limp body, hands trembling. “No. No. Baby, look at me—”

Your eyes fluttered open. Confusion. Then panic. “Get away from me!”

Mark froze. “What—?” You tried to scramble back, weak and dazed. “Who are you? Where am I?”

He stared at you for a long, broken moment. Then he stood. Turned his back. And whispered, “You were mine.”

TAG LIST: @onlybatsyy

to be added to the tag list, please specify for which variants and if you want to be tagged in smut / dark fics

[digitaldaydreamm]

unspoken claim

rafe x childhood friend!reader

| summary | he has a way of making you forgive him without even saying he's sorry

warnings: manipulation, gaslighting, jealousy, toxic rafe is back for this one

a/n: here's the highly (sort of) requested part 2!! it's kind of short bc i don't really like writing second parts :') there was a few ways i was thinking of taking this little scenario but i ended up going for toxic rafe because at the end of the day, he's rafe. i love to give you guys the best of both worlds with unspoken claim and show you how soft he can be but also remind you how much of an asshole he is sometimes lol... anyway i hope you like it, feedback is appreciated <3

part 1 | masterlist | taglist

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

You haven’t seen him in days.

Not really, anyway. Just a few texts here and there—one-word answers, dry replies, the kind of stuff Rafe only ever sends when he’s pissed but trying to act like he isn’t. No FaceTime calls. No random pop-ins. Not even a passive-aggressive “where are you?” like he usually sends when you’re gone too long without checking in.

You told yourself it was fine. That you needed space too.

That you wanted space.

But when your phone buzzes and you see a message from the same guy who dropped you off that night—hey, you still up?—you don’t reply. He'd been texting you every now and then, but you didn't really care. So you just stare at it. Let the screen go dark again.

And then your front door opens.

Not a knock. Not a heads-up. Just the jingle of keys and the creak of hinges and the low, familiar sound of heavy footsteps on your floor.

Your stomach knots instantly.

Rafe steps into the living room like he’s lived there his whole life, dressed in black, his buzzed head fresh from a recent cut. He’s got that calm but angry look again—blank face, tight jaw, hands shoved in his pockets like he’s holding something in.

“Hey,” you say quietly.

He barely looks at you before dropping onto the couch.

You hesitate, then join him, legs tucked under you, trying not to fidget. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t think you missed me.”

You blink. “What?”

He doesn’t look at you—just leans back against the cushions like this is all routine. “You been busy, right? Hanging out. Talking. Distracted.”

“Rafe…” you sigh, “I’ve barely texted him.”

“I never said who,” he cuts in, smooth and sharp.

You flinch.

There’s silence. Tense and stretched thin between you. He finally turns his head, and his eyes meet yours—cool, unreadable.

“I give you space,” he says lowly, “and you fill it with him?”

You open your mouth to respond but your phone buzzes again on the coffee table—same name, second message. You both see it light up.

Rafe’s gaze drops to it, then flicks back to you. He doesn’t look mad.

Worse—he looks disappointed.

“Wow,” he mutters, like he’s talking to himself.

“Rafe, I wasn’t even gonna reply—”

He cuts you off again. “You think I’m mad?” he asks with a dry laugh. “Nah, kid. I’m not mad. I’m just… realizing you really don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

He leans in a little, voice lowering. “You think he gives a shit about why you don’t text back? Think he notices that you’re upset? Think he’d show up if you were having a bad day, no invite, no reason—just because?”

You blink fast.

“No, because he doesn’t see you,” Rafe says. “Not the way I do.”

Your throat tightens. “Then why’ve you been ignoring me?”

He tilts his head. “You were pulling away first.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Every time I came around, you were nose deep in your phone,” he says smoothly. “You laughed less when I was around. Got quieter. Didn’t even look me in the eye.”

“I was just—”

“Just what?” he interrupts gently, like he’s coaxing a child. “Trying something new? Seeing what it’s like with someone who doesn’t even know your middle name?”

The words sting more than you want to admit.

You cross your arms, turning away, but he leans closer, warm breath brushing your ear.

“I’ve been here,” he murmurs. “Always been here. You think that’s an accident?”

Your chest tightens. He’s too close. He smells like his cologne and the ocean and that stupid expensive soap he pretends not to use. And you hate how much you missed it.

“How many times do I have to prove it, huh?” he asks, voice soft now. “How many more people are you gonna test me with?”

You don’t respond. You can’t.

He notices. Smirks faintly.

And just like that—snap—the tension breaks. He stands, grabs the remote, and flops back onto the couch like everything’s fine.

“You hungry?” he asks, casual. “You barely eat when you’re sad.”

You glance at him. “I’m not—”

“Don’t lie to me, baby.”

Your breath catches at the nickname—rare, but not unheard of. Always drops when he knows you’re too vulnerable to fight it.

“I’ll make something,” he says, already headed to your kitchen like it’s his kitchen.

And just like that… the conversation’s over.

No apology. No “I’m sorry I made you cry,” or “I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t care.” Just Rafe sliding back into your world like he never left—making you grilled cheese, asking if you want a movie, throwing you a hoodie when you shiver.

And you let him.

Because he’s always been here.

Because you don’t know how to say no.

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

taglist!!

@drewsdirtyslut @rafestoothbrush @vanessa-rafesgirl @dookeyfartt @doublejeon @memoirofasparklemuff1n @sunsetmade @xummer01 @justoxyo22 @maybankslover @jkrafe @meetmeintheemeraldpool @actcvntwhennoonesaround

please lmk if i missed someone or if you weren't meant to be tagged for this series!

[animeficsworld]

For You, Always

Umemiya Hajime x Reader

Summary: When your favourite ring goes missing, you storm Furin to get it back from your very chaotic boyfriend.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

The clink of heavy boots echoed sharply through Furin’s halls.

You didn’t smile. You never smiled.

Not at strangers, not at friends, not even at the wide-eyed first-years who practically flung themselves out of your path like you were a hurricane dressed in black.

You walked, head high, eyes colder than steel, shoving open doors and pushing past groups of stunned students without a single word. The only thing you cared about was finding him.

Because he had your favourite ring, the little silver band you never took off, the one he’d stolen half-jokingly yesterday and promised to return today.

And you weren’t exactly patient.

"Sh-she’s here-" a first-year whispered frantically, nudging his friend.

"That’s her?" someone else breathed, voice cracking.

The second and third years didn’t need to ask. They knew you.

You were Umemiya Hajime’s girl.

The one person their wild, sunshine, chaos-loving leader doted on like you were the only thing in the world worth anything.

You were the black cat to his golden retriever. The storm cloud to his blazing summer day.

And seeing you in person, marching through Furin, wearing your scowl like a crown, only made the rumours feel so much more real.

Finally, you found him, lounging against a wall near the training grounds, laughing with a few second-years.

His laugh cut off the second he saw you.

"My Love!" he practically shouted, shoving off the wall and jogging toward you with that big, dopey grin you secretly loved.

Your arms stayed crossed. Your glare sharpened.

"You have my ring," you said flatly.

Umemiya laughed, half-nervous, half-lovestruck. "Yeah, yeah, I was just about to bring it back! I was keepin’ it safe for ya, promise."

You didn’t move as he dug into his pocket, producing the tiny silver band with almost ridiculous care like it was priceless.

He slid it onto your finger, slow and deliberate, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

"There," he said, softer now. "Right where it belongs."

You stared up at him, unimpressed.

"You’re an idiot," you muttered.

He beamed. "Your idiot."

Behind you, you could feel the stunned silence of everyone else watching, mouths open, eyes wide.

Hajime didn’t care.

He hooked an arm around your shoulders, tugging you against his chest, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"Missed you," he said, almost sheepish.

"I saw you yesterday."

"Still missed you."

You grumbled under your breath but didn’t pull away. Of course, you didn’t.

He was the only one you let close.

The only one who could see past the frost and sharp words and grumpy glares.

And maybe, but just maybe, you missed him too.

"Oi!" Hajime shouted suddenly, looking back at the boys still frozen in shock. "Whatcha lookin’ at?! Ain’t she the cutest thing you've ever seen?!"

You whacked his chest lightly with the back of your hand, mortified.

"Shut up, Hajime."

He laughed, full and bright, holding you closer like you were something precious he was never letting go.

"Can’t. Love you too much."

You rolled your eyes. But your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his jacket, holding on. Just for a little longer.

Maybe forever.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

[asterafroditis]

hey so how do you think the house wardens would deal with a s/o who they find out is from rsa. They met outside of colleges. S/o was super nice and there wasn’t any competitive nature once s/o found out where their bf went too, most of the boys bragged at some point about going to their college. S/o is like “oh looks like we go to rival colleges :D”. “If anyone’s got a problem with me dating you they can suck on a lemon for all I care”?

𐔌 . ⋮ romantic rivals .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆ Housewardens x gn! reader

𓏵 1297 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff

hopefully this fulfills your request! idk anything about RSA so I hope the info fits well enough (´◦ω◦`) feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Riddle had always taken pride in his education. Night Raven College was a place of discipline, order, and prestige. So when he found out that his significant other—kind, supportive, and always willing to listen—attended Royal Sword Academy, he wasn’t quite sure how to react.

He finds out by accident when you come over to visit him at NRC. The two of you are sitting under a gazebo in the rose garden, your hands brushing slightly as you flip through a book of classical magic theory.

“You know,” you say offhandedly, “we studied this last year at RSA. My potions professor was obsessed with theoretical applications.”

He blinks. “…RSA?”

“Royal Sword Academy,” you confirm casually, flashing him a peace sign. “Looks like we go to rival schools.”

Riddle stiffens. His eyes narrow ever so slightly, his mind already racing through past conversations—had you ever mentioned this before? How did he miss it?

“You’re from RSA?” he repeats slowly.

“Yup! If anyone’s got a problem with me dating an NRC student, they can suck on a lemon for all I care.”

That derails his internal panic completely. “S-Suck on a—?!” He splutters, scandalized, but your smile doesn’t waver. There’s not a trace of competitiveness in your tone, not a shred of superiority.

You don’t see him as a rival. You just see him.

Later, when he walks you to the mirror, he brushes your fingers with his.

“I suppose… I shouldn’t be so shocked. You’re incredibly capable, regardless of where you study.”

You smile. “Thanks, Riddle. And for the record, I think NRC’s lucky to have you.”

His ears flush red. He huffs. “Flattery is unnecessary… but appreciated.”

─────────────────────────

When you finally told Leona you were from Royal Sword Academy, you expected him to scoff or roll his eyes. What you didn’t expect was the long silence.

You were curled beside him in the sunlit corner of the botanical garden, the warm afternoon breeze rustling your shared blanket.

“Mm, the campus flowers remind me of home,” you murmured. “RSA keeps theirs all organized and trimmed. Very picturesque. I miss it sometimes.”

He cracked open an eye. “RSA?”

“Yeah. Royal Sword Academy.” You stretched. “We’re technically rivals, right?”

He groaned. “You’re one of those goody-goodies in white suits?”

You grinned. “One of them, yeah. But don’t worry, I’m not here to compare your school to ours.”

Leona side-eyed you for a beat. “And you’re dating an NRC student like me, knowing the entire school system paints us as ‘troublemakers’ and ‘delinquents’?”

You shrugged. “You’re hot and smart. If someone’s got a problem with that, they can sit on a cactus.”

He laughed. A real one.

“Damn herbivore,” he muttered, fondness creeping into his voice. “You’re alright.”

And from that day on, he started calling you “RSA brat” with something like pride.

─────────────────────────

The moment you mentioned “Royal Sword Academy,” Azul’s pen froze mid-signature. You were helping him with some Mostro Lounge invoices, sorting papers with a cheerful hum.

“Ah, these contract formats remind me of home. Our student council at RSA uses something similar.”

“…RSA?” Azul repeated, slow and wary.

You looked up, innocent. “Yeah, Royal Sword Academy. Why?”

He went very still. “You’re a Royal Sword Academy student.”

“Technically, yeah. But we met off-campus, remember? You didn’t exactly introduce yourself as NRC’s rising businessman either.”

He stared, calculating. “Do you… intend to use this against me?”

You blinked, confused. “What? No? Azul, I like you, not your résumé.”

He sat back in his chair, processing.

“…You don’t care?”

You leaned forward, resting your chin in your hands. “Nope. You’re smart, dedicated, and always think five steps ahead. I admire that. And if anyone’s got a problem with you being from NRC and me from RSA, they can take it up with the sea.”

His lips twitched. “That’s not how the expression goes.”

“It is now.”

Azul laughed softly. “You’re a very peculiar person.”

You smiled. “You love it.”

“…Perhaps I do.”

─────────────────────────

You never really meant to hide being from RSA from Kalim. The topic just never came up until someone mentioned something offhandedly in passing.

“Wait—you go to Royal Sword Academy?!” Kalim turned to you, eyes wide with surprise.

“Yup,” you said with a laugh. “Didn’t mean to surprise you. I just didn’t think it mattered.”

He grinned. “No way! That’s so cool! We’re like—inter-school sweethearts!”

You blinked. “That’s one way to put it.”

He twirled you around like you were ballroom dancing. “You must have so many stories! And don’t worry, I don’t mind at all that you’re from RSA!”

“Even if people think we’re rivals?”

He shook his head, still smiling. “If anyone’s got a problem with me dating you, they can look away and cry about it!”

You snorted. “Is that your version of telling them off?”

“Yup!” he chirped. Then he pulled you close. “Besides, no school rivalry matters more than how happy I am with you.”

And you knew he meant every word.

─────────────────────────

When Vil found out you were from RSA, he didn’t immediately react. You were seated on a balcony after a shared modeling shoot, your legs swinging over the edge.

“Reminds me of campus,” you said softly. “Our towers at Royal Sword Academy overlook the mountains too.”

His brow twitched. “Royal Sword Academy?”

You blinked. “Yeah. Didn’t I mention?”

He sat back with a sigh. “No, you didn’t. Not that it matters much.”

“Do you… think less of me?”

He gave you a sharp look. “Don’t be absurd. You’re poised, well-spoken, and dress better than most NRC students. I just… didn’t expect that.”

You chuckled. “Well, rivalry or not, I’d pick you every time. If anyone’s got a problem with that, they can go exfoliate their negativity away.”

He smirked despite himself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Admit it. You like me ridiculous.”

He brushed your hair aside, lips brushing your temple. “You’re tolerably radiant.”

─────────────────────────

Idia didn’t do well with surprises. So when you casually mentioned you were from RSA while gaming with him, he froze mid-button press.

“Wait. You go to Royal Sword Academy?”

You paused the game. “Yeah. Is that… bad?”

His hair flared blue. “Wha—you’re like—my arch-nemesis school!!”

You tilted your head. “So… are you breaking up with me?”

His jaw dropped. “NO?? I mean—no!! I just—I—omg…”

You laughed. “Chill. I don’t care about school rivalries. I care about you. If someone wants to judge that, they can either duel me and my god-built characters or shut up.”

He blinked. “…Okay that’s kinda hot.”

You winked, acting like the love interest in an otome game. “I know.”

He didn’t stop blushing for the rest of the night.

─────────────────────────

Malleus found out when he tried to invite you to a gargoyle lecture and workshop and you hesitated.

“I’d love to, but… my schedule at RSA is packed this week.”

He turned. “You attend Royal Sword Academy?”

You nodded. “Is that… bad?”

He thought for a moment. “No. I’ve always been curious about that institution.”

You smiled. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t care that we’re from rival schools. If anyone has a problem with that, they can go argue with the wall.”

He chuckled. “You are as fearless as ever.”

And when he next walked with you through the moonlit forest, he told you gently:

“School boundaries are mortal things. My regard for you is not so easily constrained.”

You beamed. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere.”

[sknyuz]

weak hero class 2 headcanons — kisses with the boys of whc²

synopsis — headcanons on how the boys of whc2 would kiss you ^^

pairing/s — sieun x reader, suho x reader, baku x reader, gotak x reader, juntae x reader, baekjin x reader, seongje x reader

a/n — no hyoman despite the photo used, obviously not writing for a sexual harasser on here. love the actor tho!

masterlist

⤷ yeon sieun

sieun’s kisses are quiet, like everything he does—calculated, meticulous, but the impact lingers. he pauses first, eyes searching yours for confirmation, always making sure. “just for a second,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb beneath your jaw. si-eun’s not the type to make a big deal out of it, but when he leans in, it’s with the kind of care that makes your heart ache. his fingers trail down from your jaw to the back of your ear, tentative, like he’s scared he’ll break something if he moves too fast. “stay still,” he murmurs, voice low, like he’s focusing too hard. and when your lips meet, it’s feather-light but grounding, like he’s anchoring himself in the feeling of you. and for just a second, you feel like you’re the only thing in his world.

⤷ ahn suho

suho kisses you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. like breathing, like blinking. he grins as he leans down, arms loose around your waist, and you feel the warmth radiating off him even before his lips touch yours. “you’re staring,” he teases, his voice barely above a whisper. “you gonna kiss me or just keep looking?” and when you do, he laughs into the kiss, light and carefree, his hand slipping up the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer. “there,” he says, smug. “much better.”

⤷ park humin (baku)

baku’s grinning before he even kisses you. leans in like he’s about to tell you a secret, lips brushing yours once, twice, then pulling back with a little laugh when you chase him. “missed me?” he teases, but when he’s kissing you for real—it’s slower, deeper, more serious than you expect. his hand’s at your hip, fingers curling through your belt loop like he doesn’t want you going anywhere. “you’re mine now, you know that?” he murmurs, still smiling, but it’s softer now. the kind that makes your stomach flip in the best way.

⤷ go hyuntak (gotak)

gotak’s kiss is slow and reassuring, the kind of kiss that makes you feel like everything is going to be okay. he’s calm and deliberate, pulling you closer with a gentleness that contrasts with his usual boyish disposition. his lips move against yours with a soft rhythm, and his hand rests on the back of your head, pressing you in just a little closer.

“you’re safe with me,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek, and you can feel the sincerity in his words, as though he’s silently promising to protect you.

⤷ seo juntae

juntae’s so nervous you can practically feel it in the way his fingers twitch near yours. “can i—uh, is it okay if i…?” he trails off, face already red, and you have to smile because he’s so damn sweet. when he finally kisses you, it’s hesitant, a soft press of lips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. but the second time, when you kiss him back, he relaxes. his hand comes up to cup your cheek, and it’s deeper, more sure. “that wasn’t… too weird, right?” he asks, voice sheepish. you shake your head and laugh. he kisses you again, smiling this time.

⤷ na baekjin

baekjin’s kiss is unexpected, full of intensity and passion. he doesn’t waste time with hesitation—his lips crash into yours with a fervor that surprises you, as though he’s been holding back for too long. his hands grip your waist, pulling you in as if he doesn’t want to let go. there’s something urgent, something desperate in the way he kisses you, but it softens as you respond, and for once, he allows himself to give in to the moment.

“don’t pull away,” he murmurs softly against your lips, his breath shaky, and as his thumb gently brushes your cheek, you can feel the blood rushing through his veins, telling you everything he’s too afraid to say.

for the baekjin girlies.

⤷ geum seongje

seongje is impulsive, and his kiss is no different. he doesn’t ask for permission, he just goes for it, his hand slips around your wrist, pulling you in close, and he doesn’t hesitate—his lips crash into yours with a reckless kind of intensity that leaves you breathless. it’s wild and spontaneous, the kind of kiss that catches you off guard, but you can feel the deep emotion behind it, the rawness in the way he holds you. he pulls away with a smirk, looking at you like he’s just gotten away with something.

“you didn’t see that coming, did you?” his grin is a mix of mischief and a crazy, magnetic attraction to you.

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