#he shouldn't be that careless | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mygcherryy · 1 month ago

Text

dirty little secret | jjk

you’re tired of being hidden away, and he’s given one last chance to show you what you mean to him.

pairing — bf!jungkook x gf!reader

content — angst, fluff, smut

wordcount — 8.7k

warnings — jungkook and reader have an argument, jk is a bit of an asshole?, bigdick!jk, kissing, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex (stay safe hotties), creampie, slight dacryphilia, body worship, aftercare, really fucking emotional sex omggg

notes — this is my first time posting on tumblr in yeeeears omg i literally forget how to use it, hope you all enjoy !!! :)

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

he's done it again.

every time you two go out, it's always the same routine: take separate cars, arrive at different times to avoid suspicion, and most importantly - never, under any circumstances, be seen together. it's like you don't even exist in each other's lives when you're out in public, and it eats away at you every single time.

you should be used to it by now. you should have learned to swallow the bitterness, to accept the reality of what you signed up for. but tonight, something inside you snapped. something fragile, something exhausted.

you have had enough.

because tonight was different. it was namjoon's birthday - jungkook's bandmate, his best friend, one of the most important people in his life. it should have been a night for him to show you off, to not be afraid to be seen with you, but it was anything but that. tonight, he didn't just ignore you - he barely even glanced your way. not once. not even in the brief, stolen moments he usually gives you, when his gaze flickers to yours across the room, just long enough for you to catch it before he looks away. tonight, it was like you didn't even exist.

and maybe that's what hurts the most.

you had watched him, watched as he laughed, as he leaned in close to whisper something to someone else, his expression easy and unbothered. watched as he lived his life so effortlessly while you sat there, locked in this quiet, invisible cage of his making.

he looked free.

and you, his best kept secret, felt like nothing.

your fingers curl into your palms as you step into the bedroom, a deep, aching frustration crawling beneath your skin. one of jungkook's drivers had just dropped you back to his apartment, and because of jungkook's dumb "separate cars" rule, you were the first one home. you tug the zipper down on your dress with shaking hands, peeling the fabric off your body as though shedding the weight of the entire night. it falls to the floor in a careless heap, but you don't pick it up. you can't.

there's a lump in your throat.

god, you feel stupid.

stupid for thinking you could handle this. stupid for believing that the stolen moments, the whispered "i love you"s behind closed doors, would be enough. stupid for waiting - for him, for something to change, for the day he might finally choose you without hesitation.

you pull an old t-shirt over your head, one that used to belong to him. it shouldn't bring you comfort, but it does, and you hate yourself for it.

when you catch your reflection in the mirror, you barely recognize the girl staring back at you. her eyes are tired, rimmed with the remnants of mascara she hasn't wiped away yet. she looks small, like someone who has spent too many nights waiting for something that will never come.

you reach for a makeup wipe with more force than necessary, dragging it across your skin like it'll somehow erase more than just the smudged eyeliner. like it'll erase the way you feel - this dull, aching loneliness that clings to you even when he's right beside you.

but no matter how hard you scrub, it doesn't go away.

you toss the wipe into the trash, letting out a slow, unsteady breath before crawling into bed. the sheets are cold, empty, and offer little comfort - at least not in the way it usually does.

you lie with your back to the door, eyes fixated on the picture jungkook kept of you both on his bedside table, a small tear rolling down your cheek as you try to shut your mind off and sleep.

a few minutes pass before you hear the front door open. your heart clenches, but you don't move. you just listen.

to his footsteps. to the rustle of his jacket as he takes it off. to the quiet sigh he lets out before making his way toward the bedroom.

the door creaks open, and you don't need to look to know he's standing there, watching you.

waiting.

but you're too tired to be the first one to break this silence. not this time.

"y/n?"

his voice is soft, hesitant. you hear him shift in the doorway, the weight of his presence pressing against the silence.

"are you okay?" he asks, then whispers, "are you asleep?"

the question makes your chest tighten. he sounds so unaware, so oblivious to the storm that's been brewing inside you all night. you don't trust yourself to speak, to keep the bitterness from spilling over, so you say nothing.

let him believe you're sleeping.

you hear him sigh as he switches off the bedside lamp. the rustle of fabric as he shrugs off his jacket, the clinking of his rings as he pulls them off one by one. then, the sound of his belt unbuckling, the faint drop of his jeans hitting the floor.

he moves around the room like this is any other night, like he hasn't just spent hours pretending you don't exist.

the bed dips as he climbs in beside you. warmth radiates from his skin, his presence filling the space you had just started to get used to being empty.

then, his lips.

soft, pressing against the bare skin of your shoulder.

you tense.

he doesn't notice. or maybe he does, and he just doesn't care.

his mouth trails up, lips brushing against the curve of your neck, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. his hand finds your waist beneath the sheets, fingers grazing your hip, his touch light, teasing.

like nothing is wrong.

like he didn't just spend the entire night pretending you were nothing to him.

like he isn't the reason your heart feels like it's cracking open inside your chest.

"stop." you mutter.

"oh." jungkook smirks against your skin, plating another kiss on your shoulder. "so you are awake."

his hand travels down from your side and onto your stomach and up towards your breasts, gently caressing them as his thumb swipes over your nipple. "you looked beautiful tonight baby." he purrs into your shoulder. "couldn't wait to get you home..."

"jungkook, stop it..." you warned. "i mean it."

he chuckles, his alcohol stained breath vibrating against your neck, making your stomach turn. "mmh, i love it when you play hard to get." jungkook teases, nibbling at your earlobe. he stops playing with your boob, and his hand snakes down to your core, palming you through your pants. "come on baby," he grumbles lowly in your ear, kissing your nape again. "been thinking about you all night."

"stop it."

jungkook's fingers press into you through your panties as he pulls your hips back to meet his, desperately. "come on... it's been three weeks." he whines. "need you..."

something inside you snaps.

"jesus FUCKING christ, jungkook, get off of me!" you yell, swatting his hand away with more force than necessary, shifting out of his reach.

he freezes. "what?!"

you push yourself up on your elbows, turning on the light, and turning to face him. in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, you see the confusion knitting his brows together, the flicker of surprise in his eyes. like he genuinely doesn't understand.

that only makes you angrier.

"are you fucking serious right now?" you let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "you ignored me all night. you acted like i wasn't even fucking there. and now you just think you can climb into bed and try to fuck me and act like everything's fine?"

his expression hardens. "y/n, i don't like it either, but you know why we have to-"

"do i?" you cut him off, your anger bubbling over. "because i'm starting to think this has nothing to do with protecting me, and maybe you just like having me hidden away."

his jaw clenches. "that's not fair."

"isn't it?" you scoff, folding your arms over your chest. "you don't fucking get it, do you? you get to go out and live your life like normal. you get to laugh, have fun, talk to whoever you want. but me? i just sit there, waiting for you to remember i exist."

jungkook exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "that's not how it is."

"then tell me how it is, jungkook," you snap. "explain to me why this is okay. why i should be okay with being treated like some dirty little secret."

his face twists, frustration flashing across his features. "you know that's not what you are to me."

"then why does it feel like it?"

silence.

his lips part like he wants to say something, but no words come out.

you shake your head, voice quieter now. "i love you, jungkook. i really fucking love you but... i can't. i can't carry on like this."

his eyes widen slightly. "y/n..."

but you're already looking away, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from spilling over.

"just forget it." you sink back against the pillows, turning your back to him as you turned off the lamp. "go to sleep."

but sleep is the last thing on your mind.

the silence in the room was suffocating. jungkook had finally settled beside you, his body warm against yours, but his presence felt miles away. he didn't say anything, he just laid there, his breathing steady, the tension between you two thick enough to cut through with a knife. you could feel his eyes burning through the back of your head, but you couldn't bring yourself to turn back around and look at him. there was too much unsaid, too much that had broken between you tonight.

an hour passed in this aching quiet, each second a reminder of everything you'd tried to ignore for so long. his steady breathing, his soft sighs - each one was a stab to your chest. you cant stop the tears that slowly well up, your eyes burning with frustration and confusion. why did it have to be like this? why did you have to hurt so much when you loved him?

you turn over slightly, wiping the silent tears away, trying desperately not to wake him. but as you stare up at the blank ceiling, the weight of everything finally broke you. this isn't love, not anymore. the realization crashed over you, cold and sharp, like a slap in the face. you can't do this anymore.

you had spent so many nights convincing yourself things would get better. that he'd see you. that he'd finally love you the way you deserved. but tonight, something inside you snapped. the love, the passion - it was there, sure - but it wasn't enough. it would never be enough if he kept you hidden. if he kept treating you like you were something to be tucked away and forgotten.

your chest tightens, and before you could stop it, a broken sob escaped your lips. you bury your face in your hands, trying to stifle the sound, but it doesn’t matter anymore. nothing matters.

you have to leave.

with shaking hands, you slip quietly out of the bed, the coldness of the room wrapping around you like a cloak. you don’t care that it’s late, don’t care that he’s still lying there - your body moves on autopilot.

you make your way over to his drawers, pulling open the top one that he kept for your clothes. you hold back quiet sobs as you empty all of your belongings into one of his gym bags. your breath keeps catching in your throat at the realisation that this was it - you're leaving him.

your fingers fumble as you slip on your sweatpants, tears blurring your vision, but you don’t stop. you can’t.

you are halfway into your hoodie when you hear jungkook stir, a soft groan escaping him. you freeze, panic surging in your chest. he shifts, mumbling something incoherent, before the bed creaks under his weight as he pushes himself up, clearly confused. "y/n?" his voice is hoarse, thick with sleep, but the moment he spoke, something inside you snapped. his voice, the one you had always loved, sounded foreign now. it breaks you all over again.

"what are you..." he mutters sleepily, still not fully awake. his eyes flicker open, and he glances at you, blinking through the haze of his sleep. "y/n, what are you doing?"

you dont look at him. you can’t. if you did, you might break completely.

"i'm leaving." you whisper, the words almost impossible to get out. the sobs come again, but this time you let them fall freely, your heart breaking with each one. "i can't stay here anymore."

jungkook's confusion quickly morphs into panic. he bolts upright, his gaze frantic as he looks at you, then the bed, then back to you. "no..." he says, his voice urgent and desperate. "no, please, don't-"

but you don’t stop. you have to leave.

"y/n, please," he begs, his voice raw, breaking apart with every word. "please don't do this. we can talk, we can fix this—"

"i can't fix this." you interrupt, your voice small and trembling, but firm. "not anymore. i'm tired, jungkook. i'm so tired. i'm going home."

"what are you talking about?! this is your home!"

his words hit you like a slap.

slowly, you turn to face him.

jungkook's sitting on the edge of the bed now, watching you with wide, uncertain eyes. his hair is tousled, lips slightly parted, still trying to piece together what's happening.

but you're already breaking.

a sharp, bitter laugh escapes you, one that holds no real humor. "my home?" your voice is unsteady, and you shake your head in disbelief. "you really think this is my home?"

his brows furrow. "y/n..."

"this isn't my home, jungkook," you cut him off, voice rising. "this is a place i stay when it's convenient for you, whenever you want a fuck or someone to keep you company. a place i have to sneak in and out of like i don't belong here." you let out a breathless, pained laugh. "you want to know what home feels like? it's where you don't have to question whether you matter, where you feel wanted and appreciated. and this..." you gesture around the room, at the dim lighting, the bed you've laid in so many times, the walls that have held too many secrets, "...this isn't it."

his expression darkens, something shifting in his eyes. he stands abruptly, the mattress bouncing slightly with the movement.

"that's not fair." jungkook says, voice low. "you know what we have is real."

you scoff, shaking your head. "real? real for who, jungkook? because it sure as hell doesn't feel real for me."

he takes a step closer, hands reaching out like he's desperate to hold onto something slipping through his fingers. "y/n, stop."

"stop what?" you throw your arms out. "stop feeling like i'm not enough? stop wanting more than to be treated like some shameful secret?" your voice cracks, and you hate how raw it sounds, how vulnerable. "because i can't, jungkook. i can't just turn it off."

his jaw tightens. "you think i don't want more?" his voice rises slightly, frustration creeping in. "you think i like this? you think i don't hate myself every time i have to pretend you're just a stranger?"

your chest rises and falls rapidly, your breaths uneven. "then why do you do it?"

silence.

his mouth opens, then closes.

and that's all the answer you need.

your vision blurs, your throat tightening as you pull your sweats up the rest of the way.

"look, please, just... don't do this." jungkook pleads, stepping even closer. "please, i'll be better. i fucking love you y/n."

but you shake your head, stepping back, keeping the distance between you.

and that's what makes something shift in him.

his desperation turns to frustration, his hands clenching at his sides as he follows you out to the hallway. "so that's it?" he exhales sharply, voice laced with barely contained anger. "you're just gonna walk away?"

you blink rapidly, your hands trembling. "what the fuck else am i supposed to do?"

jungkook's eyes flash. "stay."

it's a single word, but it cracks something inside of you.

because it's not enough.

because it's always you who stays. always you who sacrifices, who waits, who breaks.

"i can't." you whisper. "i can't do this anymore."

his expression falters, pain flickering in his gaze.

but you can't let yourself fall apart now.

so you turn away, reaching for your shoes that rested at the front door with trembling hands.

and this time, jungkook doesn't try to stop you.

your fingers tremble as you grab your shoes, your heartbeat roaring in your ears. you can feel him watching you, his presence thick in the air between you.

but he doesn't move. doesn't speak.

and for a second, you think he's going to let you go.

you swallow the lump in your throat, blinking hard against the sting behind your eyes. this is what you wanted, isn't it? to walk away, to finally put yourself first? so why does it feel like your entire chest is caving in?

your hand grips the doorknob, and you pause for a moment to hold back your tears.

"don't go."

his voice cracks, low and broken, the sound of it like a knife twisting in your chest. he's crying. you freeze, your heart racing, your body trembling. you can't tell if it's his voice that has you paralyzed or the desperation in his eyes.

"y/n, please."

his words break apart as they leave his lips, like they're being torn from deep inside him. the anguish in his voice cuts through you, and you feel something inside you shatter, something fragile that you didn't even know was there.

you squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to hold it together, but it's useless. tears spring to your eyes, and they fall before you can stop them. "jungkook..."

"i can't lose you." he chokes out, and you can hear the pain in every syllable.

your breath catches in your throat. you feel as though the air has been stolen from your lungs, and for a moment, everything stands still. everything except the sound of his crying, the raw, unfiltered emotion that's breaking both of you.

and then, before you can even react, he's there.

his hands are on your arms, gripping you like he's afraid you'll slip through his fingers. jungkook turns you around, forcing you to face him. his eyes are red and swollen, tears streaming down his face, and you can't breathe. you don't know how to breathe when the sight of him like this tears you apart.

his touch is desperate, frantic, like he's trying to hold on to you with every ounce of his being. "please, y/n." jungkook whispers, his voice trembling. "please... don't leave me. don't fucking leave me like this."

your chest is tight, your heart breaking in a way you never thought possible. tears blur your vision, but you're angry, too, the weight of everything you've kept inside finally coming to the surface. "why should i?" you croak, your voice thick with emotion. "why should i stay when you keep making me feel like i don't matter?"

you're shaking now, your hands balled into fists at your sides, your entire body trembling with the storm inside you. the anger and pain rise up, mixing with the ache in your chest, but it's his words that cut deeper.

"because i love you." jungkook says, the confession leaving him raw, fragile. it feels like he's breaking as he says it, his voice hoarse, soaked in emotion. "i don't know how to do this without you. the thought of you walking out that door..." he swallows hard, his voice faltering. "it fucking kills me. i can't... i can't lose you."

you tremble, tears blurring your vision even more, your breath hitching with the weight of it all. you want to be angry. you want to push him away and demand that he finally be the person you need, but the depth of his pain is suffocating. it's too much.

"then why do you make me feel like i'm nothing?" you whisper through broken sobs, your words barely audible. "i don't deserve it, i fucking love you."

jungkook's face crumples at your words, his eyes brimming with fresh tears, and something shifts between you. his hands reach out again, more tender this time, more fragile, like he's afraid that if he moves too quickly, you'll disappear. he steps closer, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath ragged.

"you are everything to me," jungkook says, his voice barely a whisper. "everything."

and then, the anger, the pain, the frustration, all of it melts away in an instant. the kiss happens so suddenly, so urgently, it feels like it's the only thing keeping you both from falling apart completely. his lips crash against yours, hot and desperate, like he's trying to pour every single piece of him into you. his hands are shaking as they cup your face, pulling you closer, and you kiss him back with everything you have, all the hurt, all the longing spilling into the kiss.

you both cry, tears mingling on your cheeks as your lips move against each other. the kiss is messy, but it's real - raw, desperate. every sob, every broken sound, fills the air between you, and somehow, it feels like this is the only thing that matters.

his hands move to your waist, gripping you so tightly that you almost wince as he gently pushes you against the wall, but you don't pull away. you can't. not when he's holding you like this, like he's afraid you'll disappear. not when you feel the exact same way.

his lips trail from yours, down your jaw, to your neck, kissing you like he's trying to apologize for every mistake, for every moment of silence between you. "i'm sorry..." jungkook murmurs between kisses, voice hoarse, strained with emotion. "i'm so fucking sorry, y/n."

you close your eyes, tears still falling, and swallow hard, the weight of his apology settling in your chest. you don't know if sorry is enough. you don't know if anything will be. but right now, you don't want to think. you don't want to question it.

so, instead, you pull him back to you, kissing him again, desperate, almost frantic. because deep down, in the silence of your heart, you're terrified that one day, it will be too late.

and in this moment, this breathless, painful moment, all you want is him.

the kiss becomes a battle of desperation, a collision of raw, pent-up feelings that neither of you can hold back any longer. his hands grip you like he's afraid you'll vanish, each touch sharp, urgent - like he needs you to know how much he's drowning in this.

you're both breathing heavily, lips swollen from the intensity, as if this moment is the only thing that matters. his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, deeper, until you're pressed against him, your heart racing in time with his.

"y/n," he breathes against your lips, voice thick, trembling. "please... don't leave me." there's something broken in the way he says it, a vulnerability that cuts through your anger and leaves you raw and exposed.

the flood of emotions rises in you, and for a moment, you want to say something, anything, to push him away, to walk out that door. but his touch is so insistent, so full of need. your own fingers curl into his skin, clutching him as if you need him just as much.

his mouth moves down your neck, the press of his lips searing against your skin. every kiss feels like a plea, every touch like an apology you're too afraid to say aloud. you can feel the heat of him, his chest rising and falling against yours in quick, desperate breaths. his hands move lower, slipping under your shirt, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your waist.

you gasp at the touch, a shiver racing down your spine. but you don't pull away. you can't. the ache between you both is too overwhelming, too consuming.

"gguk..." you whisper, your voice needy.

jungkook's grip tightens, pulling you toward him until your body is flush with his. he groans, deep and raw, as if he's been holding onto this moment for far too long.

"you're everything to me." he whispers against your lips, his breath warm and desperate. "i don't know how to fix this. i don't know how to make you stay, but i need you. i love you too fucking much to see you walk away."

you're not sure where the anger goes, or if it even matters anymore. all you can focus on is the way he's touching you, kissing you, as if it's the only way to prove he hasn't given up. your hands move to his chest, slipping beneath his shirt, your fingertips tracing the muscles beneath his skin, feeling him shiver under your touch.

there's no more talking. no more arguing. just the need to be close, to feel each other, to erase the space between you that's grown too wide.

you feel his breath against your skin, quick and shallow, as his lips trail down your neck, each kiss leaving a burning mark where his mouth touches. you can't stop the shudder that runs through you, your hands grabbing onto his shoulders as if he's the only thing keeping you grounded. it's almost like a dream, the way he's touching you, too intense, too urgent, but you don't want him to stop. you're afraid of how badly you need this.

his hands slide down your back, pulling you closer, and the space between you is gone, your bodies pressed together like a puzzle piece that can't fit anywhere else. his fingertips slide under the waistband of your pants, grazing your skin, and you can't stop yourself from letting out a soft, desperate sigh.

"y/n..." his voice is thick with emotion, ragged and almost pleading as his hands shake against your body. "please don't pull away from me."

you tilt your head back, letting him kiss down the line of your jaw, and it feels like a surrender, like you've given in to something you can't fight anymore. your breath catches as his lips press harder against your skin, the desperation in each movement, each kiss. it's impossible to ignore. his hands are everywhere, desperate to pull you closer, as though he's trying to meld into you.

you drag your hands down his chest, your fingertips grazing the hard lines of his body, pulling his shirt off in one swift motion. his eyes flicker with something fierce, something raw as he stares down at you. he's waiting. waiting for you to make the next move, but you can feel the urgency in him, the way he's trembling as if he's on the edge of something that might break him.

you kiss him again, hard and fast. it's no longer just a kiss, but something deeper, something desperate. his hands are everywhere, pulling at your clothes, fumbling to get you closer. you let him, because it feels like you're both drowning in this, caught in the same tide of need, of raw emotion that doesn't have a name but pulls you under just the same.

he groans, his lips trailing down your neck again, and you can feel how much he's holding back, how much he's trying to keep himself in check. but you don't want him to hold back. not now. not when everything inside you is screaming for him.

"i need you, y/n..." he whispers, voice hoarse, pleading as he connects with your lips again. "please."

your body trembles at the way he says it, at the vulnerability in his tone. and for a moment, all you can do is nod, breathless, too lost in him to say anything else. there's no more space, no more words. it's just the heat of his body against yours, the frantic energy that rushes through you both as if this is the only thing that matters.

jungkook's hands slide down your body, tugging your sweatpants down in a swift motion. he breaks away from your lips, gently planting more kisses along your jawline before peeling off your hoodie and his shirt that you were wearing underneath. he stands back a little to admire your bare chest, noticing how beautiful you look, how the moonlight that crept in from the window bounces off of your boobs, casting a blueish hue on your skin that drew him in like a magnet.

"you're so fucking beautiful..." he mutters with a smile, pressing his forehead against yours and kissing the tip of your nose as his hands slide up and down your sides. "my beautiful girl."

jungkook places a gentle kiss on your forehead, before trailing sloppy kisses down your neck, onto your collarbones, and down your torso. your hands reach down to him, your fingers getting caught between his sweat coated locks.

his kisses become delicate when he reaches the bottom of your stomach, just above the waistband of your panties. he pulls your sweats down the rest of the way, giving you a moment to step out of them, before hooking his fingers around the hem of your panties, pulling them down slowly as his kisses fall closer and closer to your heat.

you let out a sharp breath as his nose brushes past your clit, his heavy breath against your heat sending shockwaves up your spine. he begins lapping at the juices he caused to flow from you, moaning as he does so. you are that addicting to him.

your pussy pulsates against his tongue as jungkook hungrily starts eating you out.

"my girl." he mutters against your folds. "you taste so good."

your grip on his hair tightens as he flicks at your clit with his tongue, and jungkook immediately grabs the back of your thigh, placing it over his muscular shoulder to get a better angle. his hand travels up along the back of your thigh to find your asscheek, his fingers gripping your thick flesh tightly and pulling you in closer to his face.

you try with everything in your power to fight the urge to grind against his mouth, not wanting him to win, but you can't resist. he's taking his time with you, showing you how much he loves you and needs you, using his pretty mouth to convey everything he can't say. his tongue grazes your entrance, and you let out a helpless yelp at the sensation as he begins dipping his tongue in and out of you.

"gguk..." you moan, practically pulling his hair out. "fuck baby, just like that..."

as jungkook hungrily laps at your clit, his hand slowly drops from your ass as he slips a finger inside you, causing a loud moan to fall from your lips at the feeling. the thrust of his finger matches the tempo of him sucking on your clit, and you nearly fall apart on him there and then, your slick walls tightening against his long tattooed finger.

you don't want this, not like this anyway. you don't want him to just kiss you and eat you out and pretend that none of it ever happened, to let the heat of the moment erase the hurt that still lingered between you. from an outsider's perspective, that might be exactly how it seemed - just another argument followed by an impulsive, reckless attempt to patch things up.

but it wasn't.

this wasn't the same jungkook who had spent two years keeping you at arm's length, hiding you in the shadows of his life. this wasn't the jungkook who held back, who let fear and hesitation dictate his every move. this was different.

because right now, every touch, every kiss, every shaky breath and moan against your skin felt raw, unguarded - like he was laying himself bare in a way he never had before. there was no restraint, no carefully measured distance. only him, pulling you close like he was afraid you'd slip away, pouring everything he had into the way his hands traced your skin, the way his lips molded against yours, they

there was love in every movement, a depth of emotion you had never truly felt from him before. passion, yes, but something else, too - something desperate and aching, something that made your chest tighten.

and for the first time, you weren't left wondering if he meant it.

just as he was about to slip a second finger in, you tug at his hair again to get his attention. "gguk... gguk..."

he kisses against your clit and looks up at you doe eyed. "yes baby?"

you nearly melt looking in those fucking eyes.

his gaze is so impossibly large and dark that it nearly swallowed you whole. it wasn't fair, how effortlessly he could undo you, how just one look could strip you of every last bit of anger, leaving you defenseless against the love that radiated from him like gravity, pulling you in.

"want you..."

without another word, he draws his attention back down to your pussy, slipping his fingers out of you and giving your folds one last swipe with his tongue. he lovingly plants kisses from your clit all down your thigh, before gently lifting it off of him and towering back above you. his thumb traces the curve of your jaw, slow and deliberate, before sliding to the nape of your neck. with a gentle but insistent pull, he brings you in again, his touch firm yet gentle.

"i fucking love you..." he mutters, his voice thick with emotion, barely more than a breath. the moonlight casts a silver glow over his face, catching the unshed tears in his wide, dark eyes. his brows knitted together, his gaze scanning every inch of you like he was afraid this was just a dream, like he was still trying to convince himself that you were really here. the thought of you walking out tonight - of losing you - makes his throat tighten, his chest ache. he sniffs sharply, trying to hold it together, but his lips trembles as he mouths, "more than anything."

your breath catches in your throat. the way he looks at you, the way his entire body trembles with the weight of his emotions… it shatters you. because this wasn't just desperation. this wasn't just fear. this was love, raw and overwhelming, spilling from him in ways he had never allowed before.

your hands find his face, cupping his cheeks with a tenderness that made him close his eyes for a brief moment, like he was leaning into your touch for strength. a single tear escapes him, trailing down his cheek, and you catch it with your thumb, brushing it away as gently as you could.

"i love you too," you whisper, voice trembling. a smile ghosts your lips, but its weak, fragile, weighed down by the emotion coursing through you. your own tears fall freely, hot and relentless, cascading down your cheeks like a flood you couldn't stop. "more than anything."

his breath hitches. his hands, still gripping your waist, tightenes as if he was grounding himself in you, terrified that you'd slip away. "promise..." his voice cracks, and he swallows hard, blinking rapidly to clear his blurred vision. "promise you won't leave."

you inhale shakily, your thumb sweeping along his damp lashes, wiping away the remnants of his heartbreak.

you meet his gaze, steady despite the storm inside you.

"show me how much you want me to stay."

without hesitation, jungkook scoops you into his arms, one strong arm beneath your knees, the other wrapped securely around your back. his grip is firm, effortless, like holding you was second nature - like you belonged there.

the world blurs around you as he carries you through the dimly lit hallway, each step slow and deliberate, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath your cheek. the night, the fight, the tears - it all fades into the background, swallowed by the quiet sound of his breathing and the warmth radiating from his body.

as he crosses the threshold into the bedroom, his hold on you tightens for just a second, like he needs to convince himself that you were real, that you were still here.

as jungkook lowers you onto the bed, his hands linger, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist like he's hesitant to let you go. your back meets the mattress, but before you can even catch your breath, he's hovering above you, his face so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

his eyes scan your face - your lips slightly parted, your cheeks wet with tears - and it's like he's memorizing every detail, like he needs to etch you into his mind. and then, without a word, he kisses you.

it's different this time. softer. slower. but no less desperate. his lips mold against yours with an aching tenderness, as if he's afraid you'll slip through his fingers. his breath mingles with yours, warm and shaky, and his hands cradle you like you're something fragile. the weight of everything that's happened seems to melt into the way he holds you, the way he kisses you like it's the only way he knows how to speak now. an apology. a promise. a plea.

"baby..." you whisper against his lips. "need you now."

"you've got me." jungkook smiles, pecking your lips again. "you've got me forever."

his hand caresses your boob again as he kisses you while your fingers travel down his toned torso. you begin palming him through his briefs, and he moans in your mouth at the sudden contact. "you're so hard." you giggle, massaging his bulge as your other hand gets lost in his hair.

"only for you." he replies, his hand reaching up to cradle your face, his thumb moving over and back against your flushed cheek. "my pretty girl."

you smile at him, and he helps you to tug his briefs down. you almost gasp when you see his cock spring up and slap against his abs. it looks bigger and needier than ever, and you can feel your pussy pulsating at the sight of it. jungkook kisses your jaw before reaching over to the bedside table, and you know exactly what he's doing.

"no," you blurt out, stopping him. "i... i want you raw."

jungkook's eyes grow wide. "are you sure?"

you nod. you need it. you need to feel him. it's like some sick contract or declaration, you need to feel him to know he loves you. he's asked you so many times before, and if you were ever going to do it, tonight was the night. you reached down and wrapped your fingers around his thick shaft, and a sharp breath escaped his mouth, hitting you in the face.

"want to feel you." you groan against his lips. you can feel his curl up into a smile as he places his hand on yours, and helps you run his needy cock through your slick folds. you both groan in pleasure at feeling each other like this for the first time, and jungkook eyes pierce through yours as his tongue pokes at his lip ring.

his eyes fall to your lips, kissing them tenderly. "ready?" he asks, his breath heavy against your mouth. you nod as you let go of him, and wrap your arms around his neck. he looks down between you, letting his dick run up your wet slit one last time before slowly entering you.

you both gasp at the sensation of feeling eachother for the first time. it truly feels like the first time. this is the first time jungkook has conveyed such love to you, anyway. "holy shit..." he says, his chest rising and falling as he struggles to catch his breath. "baby... fuck, you feel so good."

he buries his head in your shoulder as your eyes stay wide, trying to steady your breathing. you hold the back of his head, and run one hand down his muscular back as you moan lovingly in his ear as he slowly pulls out, before sliding back in again.

"baby," you whine loudly, unable to keep a lid on your moans. as jungkook slowly drives deeper into you than he ever has before, you let out a sharp breath, almost screaming in pleasure. "gguk... baby..."

you can barely get your words out, and jungkook grabs your hand, placing it above your head, lacing his long tattooed fingers through yours. he lifts his head up from your shoulder and places a soft kiss on your neck. "i know baby..." he groans lowly. "fuck... i know."

he starts speeding up his thrusts, his breath growing heavier with each movement. you look up at him, and it's like the rest of the world fades away. nothing else exists - just him. the way his tongue flicks at his lip rings, glistening under the dim light. the way his brows draw together in concentration, his expression torn between pleasure and something deeper, something raw. his dark curls cling to his forehead, damp with sweat, his skin glowing with the sheer intensity of the moment. his mouth falls open with every ragged breath, every broken groan that slips past his lips, and you swear you've never seen anything more beautiful.

and for a moment, your heart clenches.

because you were about to give up on him.

the thought nearly knocks the air from your lungs. how could you have been willing to walk away from this, from him? from the man who, despite everything, still looks at you like you're his entire world?

he isn't looking at you, too caught up in the space between you both, watching where your bodies meet. his lashes flutter as his gaze drags upward, slow and heavy, drinking you in, mapping every inch of you like he's committing this moment to memory.

and then he sees you.

his eyes find yours, locking on, and for a second, neither of you move. but then, his lips twitch, curving into the kind of smile that knocks the air right out of your lungs. it's warm. real. and for a fleeting moment, it's as if time rewinds, pulling you back two years, back to the beginning - back to the moment you first fell in love with him.

and now, right here, in this moment, you realise that you're falling all over again.

not because of lust. not because of the heat in the air or the way he makes you feel. but because he wants you. because he needs you. because he loves you. and right now, he's showing you in every possible way.

"i fucking love you."

his voice is raw, stripped of anything playful or teasing. there's no smirk, no hesitation, just a declaration, a truth laid bare between you. his eyes are dark and glassy, filled with something desperate, something real, and it makes your chest tighten, your breath hitch in your throat.

your fingers slip from his, trembling slightly as you reach up, cupping his face in your hands. his skin is warm beneath your touch, and when you brush his damp hair from his eyes, he leans into you like he needs it, like he needs you.

your breath is sharp, uneven, as tears well up again, burning at the edges of your vision. "i know..." you whisper, voice barely holding steady as he rocks in and out of you. your thumb traces over the curve of his cheekbone, grounding yourself in him, in this moment.

"i love you so much..."

and you do. god, you do. with every aching, fragile, broken piece of you.

he kisses your shoulder sloppily as he picks up the pace. "shit..." you whine, your eyes fluttering shut as you throw your head back on his pillow. "faster gguk..."

he obeys your order and speeds up his thrusts, growling lowly as he does so. his lips find your neck again, leaving gentle kisses as his hand reaches down between your legs to rub slow circles on your swollen clit, making you yelp in pleasure. "fuck!" you breathe out sharply. "baby... you're making me feel so... so fucking good..."

jungkook's lips make their way up to your earlobe. "my girl..." he groans, a moan quickly falling from his lips as your pussy clenches around him. "fuck... baby, do that again... driving me fucking crazy..."

but you can't even help it. his fingers speed up on your clit, and his dick hits your spot over and over at the perfect pace, and you know you're not going to last much longer. "i'm so close..." you moan, a tear falling from your lashes out of pure pleasure. "gonna... gonna cum..."

"i know baby." jungkook moans in your ear, nibbling at your lobe. he throws his head back, and shifts his position, hoisting himself up on his hands and steadying himself above you. his head falls back down to look at where you both connect, the sight of your pussy swallowing his raw cock alone driving him crazy. "gonna cum too."

"want you... want you to cum in me baby..."

jungkook's eyes shoot up to meet yours. his breathing grows more rapid at the thought of it. "yeah?" he groans, speeding up his thrusts to an animalistic pace. "you gonna let me cum in your pussy baby? you gonna stay with me forever?"

you can barely breathe, but you managed to swallow hard and pull yourself together. "never gonna leave..." you promise, a moan escaping from the depths of your throat. "never gonna leave you baby, love... love you too fucking much."

jungkook's head falls again as he buries his head next to yours. "fucking love you." he groans, his hot breath hitting your neck. "gonna cum... cum in your pretty pussy... my pretty's girls pussy..."

your hands claw at his back as you feel yourself reach your high. you genuinely feel as though you are about to pass out from all of the pleasure he's sending through your body with each deep thrust. it's overwhelming, and tears spill from your eyes, and this time you don't try to hide them.

you hear jungkook whine every time your pussy clenches around him. "cumming..." you cry out, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your head in his shoulder. "jungkook... i-i can't... i'm gonna cum..."

"come on baby..." he encourages as your head drops down again. he kisses your lips gently. "come on, cum with me... fuuuck..."

your orgasm hits you like a train as you feel jungkook paint your walls with his cum. you've never been this loud, but you can't help it. you're moaning into eachothers open mouths, unable to contain yourselves. jungkook slowly pulls out of you with a groan, looking down to watch his cum spill out of you.

"holy fucking shit..." he groans, staring in disbelief. his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, his dark eyes flickering over the scene in front of him before he drags a hand through his damp hair. "i can't believe you let me do that."

a breathless, shaky laugh escapes your lips. "neither can i."

jungkook exhales, then laughs with you, the sound warm, genuine, full. he reaches for you, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers, his thumb brushing against your jaw as he leans in. "come here." his lips meet yours in a soft, lingering kiss, full of something deeper than just desire - something raw and unspoken. when he pulls away, his gaze holds yours, unwavering. "i love you so much, y/n."

you smile this time - really smile. because you believe it. because for the first time in a long time, you feel it. "i know." your reply softly. you press a quick kiss to his lips before whispering, "i love you too."

his grin is instant, bright despite the exhaustion in his eyes. "i better clean you up." he chuckles, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before reluctantly pulling away. he climbs off the bed, stretching slightly before disappearing into the bathroom.

you hear the sound of running water, the shuffle of cabinets opening and closing. a moment later, he returns with a towel, crouching down to clean up his cum that spilled out onto the sheets. his muscles flex as he works, his jaw tight in concentration, but there's an ease to him now, a lightness in the way he moves, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

once he's done, he tosses the towel aside and grabs a clean pair of briefs, pulling them on before turning to you with a familiar softness in his eyes. he pulls out one of his oversized shirts from his drawers, walking back to the bed, and hands it to you with a small smirk. "here baby."

you take it from him, fingers brushing against his for a brief second before you smile, slipping the fabric over your head. the scent of his cologne clings to it, wrapping around you like a familiar embrace, like home.

before you can say anything, he's already crawling into bed, shifting the covers as he settles in. he looks at you, eyes warm, and lifts his arm in invitation. "come here."

you don't hesitate. you move toward him, sinking into the space beside him, your body molding against his as your head finds its place on his chest. his arms wrap around you instantly, holding you close, like he never wants to let go.

as the night settles around you, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you tangled together beneath the sheets. jungkook's arm is still draped around you, holding you close against him as your head rests on his bare chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing in your ear. his fingers move gently through your hair, absentmindedly twisting the strands between his fingers, his touch light, reverent.

for a while, neither of you speak. there's no need to. the silence between you is no longer heavy with unspoken pain, no longer thick with tension. it's warm, safe, a space where you can finally breathe.

but then, his voice breaks through the quiet, soft and unsure.

"i'm sorry."

you lift your head slightly, peering up at him. his eyes are dark in the dim light, searching yours for something - for forgiveness, maybe, or for reassurance that this, you, are still his.

"for what?" you whisper, though you already know the answer.

his fingers tighten ever so slightly in your hair. "for all of it. for making you feel like you don't matter. for making you feel like i don't love you, because i do. so fucking much." his brows knit together, his lips pressing into a thin line. "i never want you to doubt that again."

your chest tightens at his words. "i don't. not anymore." your hand rests over his heart, feeling the steady thump beneath your palm. "and i'm sorry too. for almost leaving. for thinking i could walk away from this… from you."

jungkook shakes his head, his grip on you tightening. "i wouldn't have let you."

a soft laugh escapes you, but it dies quickly when you see the look in his eyes, completely serious, completely broken at the thought of losing you.

"we'll never give up on each other." he says it like a promise, like something absolute.

you nod, your fingers trailing up to cup his jaw, your thumb brushing over the curve of his cheek. "never."

his expression softens, relief washing over his features before he dips down, pressing his lips to your forehead. "i love you."

"i love you too."

#jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #bts smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst

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sidsinning · 1 year ago

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Apothecary Diaries is pog as fuck bc serious political issues and dynamics from a woman's POV are rarely depicted in ANY form of media

It's always a man's world where women's issues surround him. Even if we get a female perspective once in awhile- it all comes back to how it facilitates his game in the end. She's a footnote in the overarching scheme of things. Misogyny exists. Back to the real plot.

Apothecary Diaries is strictly from a female perspective and how each class of woman has to act, what limits they have, what rights they have and don't have between each class, etc. These women have to behave a certain way under a patriarchy, which you would think makes it a man's story, but it never is. The women are THE focus of this show, their struggles are THE plot. The focus is about how the patriarch effects them.

Take the concubines for example. The show dives into how bearing a child affects their rank, how traumatizing it is to lose that child, the consequences of that, etc. We have barely seen the emperor who sired all these kids because this is not about him.

Jinshi's personal plot is secondary to Mao Mao's journey- he is mostly there to provide new cases for Mao Mao to solve and to learn more about the shortcomings of his class when taking care of citizens like Mao Mao.

Jinshi is not a bad person, but by virtue of his position in the higher classes, he cannot understand how harsh life as a poor WOMAN is specifically- he can only catch glimpses of it from what Mao Mao tells him and feel outrage but powerless in his wealth and luxury

Mao Mao is a fortunate commoner woman for what privileges someone in her class should and shouldn't have. She happened to be adopted by a knowledgeable man. She is allowed to read, write, learn, and has enough skill to be a poison tester and have a job EXTREMELY out of her class limit as an apothecary, also a job not traditionally meant for women

Mao Mao is not a "noT lIkE oThER gIrLs" protagonist, she is FOR THE GIRLIES. She only wants to help the women around her, and women are whom she has the closest relationships to. She sees a woman being harassed and can't let it stand. She sees a frail, traumatized woman dying from the recklessness of those who should be caring for her and spends day and night nursing her back to health, while also punishing the people who were so careless with her needs.

My girl has STUDIED UP on THE BODY to TEACH these upper class ladies on how to really HEAT things up in the BEDROOM

Sex depicted in Apothecary Diaries is both something women are not shamed to be enjoying, while at the same time being acknowledged as an unfortunately huge economic necessity to market themselves.

Like shit is just so real in this series???

Listen, I can go on and on about how GOATED the series and especially Mao Mao is but you get the picture

#the apothecary diaries #apothecary diaries #mao mao #sidrabbles #Kusuriya no Hitorigoto

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mssishipi · 2 months ago

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was it casual? — lhs

SYNOPSIS: Let’s play “Casual” by Chappell Roan. How far can you sink for a guy who only sees you as a bed warmer? Somewhere between the silences, you start to wonder. If it’s just casual, why does it feel so real? And if it means nothing, why does it hurt so much?

content tags: angst, fuck buddies, heeseung is an asshole (his friends also), reader is a sucker for bare minimum, smoking, contains 2nd hand smoke too, mention of pregnancy, sad and kinda happy ending (if you squint), lots of crying and self sabotage. no part 2 :)

warning: profanities, explicit content (smut) unprotected sex, pussy eating, mention of squirting, blowjob, shower sex. WC:12.3K

note: damn 233 followers already? thank you so much! here's some angsty heeseung fanfic for y'all

"Why are you so dumb for crawling back to that man? We all know you're just one of the girls he likes to bang."

The words hit like a slap, burning through your chest, Your fingers clenched around the edge of the table, nails digging into the cheap wood, the pressure grounding you as frustration bubbled in your throat.

You shouldn't care. You shouldn't. But fuck, it hurt.

Fuck Lee Heeseung. Fuck everything about him.

You knew his reputation. Everyone did. He was the guy people whispered about in dimly lit hallways, the one whose name was laced with envy and lust.

Lee Heeseung wasn't just wanted—he was craved. His sharp cheekbones, the way his thin upper lip curled when he smirked, the small face that somehow made his presence even more intimidating. And that nose—slightly arched, just perfect enough to make your stomach twist when he looked down at you. He wasn't an academic genius, far from it, but intelligence was never his selling point. It was the way he carried himself, the lazy confidence, the quiet arrogance that made people flock to him like moths to a flame.

And you? You were just another moth.

But no—no, that wasn't true. You were different, weren't you? Heeseung doesn't fuck twice. That was his rule. One time, one night, then you were nothing but a name on his list, a passing memory in his beautifully wrecked life. Yet with you... it wasn't just once. He kept coming back, kept pulling you in with his heated stares, his late-night texts, the way he said your name like it meant something.

And maybe that's why you let yourself believe—just for a moment—that you were special.

But were you? Or were you just another girl foolish enough to think she mattered?

Your breath hitched, throat tightening as the weight of it all pressed down on you. You were exhausted. Exhausted from convincing yourself that he was just "figuring things out." That he was complicated, not careless. That maybe, just maybe, he wanted you the way you wanted him.

But he didn't. He never did.

And you were done.

Fuck him. Fuck his stupid, perfect face.

You were going to leave. You are going to block him, ignore him, and dragged him out of your heart with bloodied hands if you had to. It was what you deserved.

Sike, bitch.

"Heeseung!" You screamed his name, fingers twisting into the sheets as he drove into you from behind, your body arching under the force of his thrusts.

"Fuck, you're always so tight," he groaned, voice wrecked, half-laughing like he knew exactly how weak you were for him.

His grip on your waist tightened, his hips snapping against yours with punishing speed. Every thrust sent a shockwave through your body, pleasure and frustration tangling into something dangerous, something that made you forget why you wanted to leave in the first place.

His hand slid up your back, rough fingers ghosting over your spine before settling around your throat.

He forced you down, pressing your chest into the mattress as he continued to drive into you, deeper, harder, making you feel every inch of him. Your breasts bounced with each movement, and then—fuck—his other hand found your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that made your legs tremble beneath him.

"You're shaking already?"

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moan threatening to escape, but then he tightened his grip on your throat just enough to make your head spin.

"Hee—fuck—" Your voice broke as the pressure coiled inside you, too much, too fast, overwhelming.

"Come for me," he ordered, his breath hot against your ear.

And you did. Hard.

Your orgasm hit, your body clenching around him as pleasure crashed through you in dizzying waves.

Heeseung groaned, his pace faltering, and then he was spilling inside you, his hips jerking as he buried himself to the hilt. His lips found yours from behind, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, claiming kiss, the kind that made your heart stutter even as you hated yourself for it.

The both of you collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavy, bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction.

Heeseung didn't move immediately. Instead, he slid his fingers through your hair, tugging lightly as he kissed the back of your neck—slow, lazy.

Your chest tightened.

Was it casual?

Your brain screamed yes.

But the way your heart fluttered said otherwise.

Fuck Lee Heeseung. Fuck him for making simple things feel intimate.

Fuck him for always making you stay at his place, for the way he hugged you from behind in the morning, lips warm against your neck as he whispered a sleepy "Good morning, baby." Like you were his. Like this was more than just a cycle of fucking and pretending it didn't mean anything.

And fuck him—most of all—for never wearing a condom when it came to you.

Your legs shook as you sat on the edge of the bed, his cum dripping down your thigh. The room still smelled like sweat, sex, and Heeseung—faint cologne mixed with something distinctly him. Your chest rose and fell unevenly, fingers clutching the sheets as you glared at him.

"I told you not to cum inside me," you snapped.

Heeseung, fresh out of the shower, a towel slung low around his hips, only grinned as he reached for you, spreading your legs with ease. He looked down, watching the way your swollen cunt twitched, still messy from him.

"I always thought you weren't the type to let that happen," you muttered, frustration bubbling in your chest. "I heard you always wear a condom with other girls."

His smirk deepened. "Maybe you're not like other girls."

Your stomach twisted. You hated how easily his words got to you, how they made your heart stumble, made you want to believe you were different—even when you knew better.

Before you could snap back, Heeseung licked his lips, then slowly, wiped the mess between your legs with a towel.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation, the rough fabric making you flinch. "I told you to take a pill," he murmured, his voice half-amused, half-serious.

Your glare hardened. "Fuck you? You're the one who needs to adjust, bitch. If I get pregnant—"

He cut you off smoothly, not even blinking. "It won't be a problem." He looked at you, eyes dark and unreadable. "I'm ready to be a father, babe."

Your whole body locked up. What?

Your breath hitched, your cheeks flushing as you raised your hand to slap his shoulder. He laughed, dodging easily, catching your wrist in his grip before kissing your knuckles.

"You're so cute when you get mad," he teased, leaning in, his lips barely brushing against yours.

Your heart stupidly skipped a beat. He kissed you again—gentle, slow, as if this wasn't just another night of mistakes. As if he meant it.

"I'll buy you Plan B tomorrow," he murmured against your lips.

You swallowed hard, fingers curling against his chest.

Was it casual?

Fuck him for ghosting you after spending the whole weekend in his bed.

You stared at your phone, fingers tightening around the device like you could crush it, like that would somehow erase the ache in your chest. The message you sent two days ago still sat there, unread. Or maybe it was read, and he just didn't care enough to reply.

And screw you—screw you for being so fucking stupid. For always checking your notifications like some pathetic, desperate girl waiting for scraps of attention. For letting your heart lurch every time your phone vibrated, only to sink when it wasn't him.

"Just get over him already," your friend sighed, sipping her iced coffee as she leaned back against the café booth. "He's not worth it."

How could you?

How could you just get over the way he kissed your forehead in the middle of the night, the way he pulled you closer in his sleep, like he needed you there? How could you forget his sweet smile, his stupid Bambi eyes, the way he looked at you like you were something special—only to turn around and act like you didn't exist?

And screw you—screw you for being a fucking loser.

And that's why you were here, drowning in cheap alcohol, trying to forget him.

"God, I really need a drink." You muttered, rubbing your temple as the bass of the club pulsed through your skull.

Your friend side-eyed you, unimpressed. "It's fucking Wednesday, babe. Middle of the week. Calm your ass down."

You ignored her, slamming back another shot.

"Fuck Lee Heeseung!" you suddenly shouted, voice slurred, drawing a few stares from nearby tables.

Legs swaying, balance unsteady, you barely noticed when someone grabbed your waist, steadying you before you could fall flat on your face.

A familiar grip. A familiar presence.

Your blurry vision focused just enough to make out the sharp jawline, the messy dark hair, the annoyingly pretty face you spent too much time thinking about.

"Ohhh, it's you—Lee Heeseung!" You pointed at him, laughing as if this wasn't a complete fucking disaster. "What ya doin' here?"

His jaw ticked, eyes dark as they scanned over you—messy hair, smudged lipstick, a dress that rode up dangerously high on your thighs.

"I'm here to pick your drunk ass up." His voice was flat, irritated, but his hold on you was soft and steady. He slid your arm over his shoulder, gripping your waist tighter as he started leading you toward the exit.

You let him, but only because walking felt impossible.

Then, with a giggle, you leaned in, breath warm against his skin. "Ohhh, was it casual for you to pick me up at 3 AM because I'm sooo drunk?"

Your voice was teasing, but underneath it—hurt.

His jaw clenched, his grip tightening around your waist for a brief second before loosening again.

"Shut up." His voice was quieter now, almost strained. "Let's go."

"No!" You ripped your arm from his grasp, stumbling back, your vision spinning.

"Why are you always like this, Heeseung?" Your voice cracked, but you didn't care. You jabbed a finger into his chest. "You fuck me on the weekends, make me feel like I actually matter, and then act like I don't exist after? You cuddle me, you kiss me, you hold me like—like I mean something! And then suddenly, you're back to being a complete dick?!"

You let out a bitter laugh, raising both middle fingers at him. "Fuck you! You couldn't even text me. Couldn't even take me out on a proper fucking date. What am I to you, huh?"

Heeseung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with a scoff.

"Is that the reason you got yourself wasted here?" His voice dripped with condescension, his lips curling in amusement like this was all some fucking joke to him. "Because I didn't text you? That's pathetic."

His words stung more than they should have. Your nails dug into your palms.

"Why do you even care about how I act?" he continued, "We're not even together, so you don't get to tell me what to do or what not to do."

You stared at him, breath shaky, chest tight.

"Not together." The words felt like poison in your mouth. "Right. That's your excuse for treating me like shit, huh?"

His eyes flickered with something more, but his face remained impassive, like he wasn't affected at all.

"I never made you any promises. You're not getting attached, are you? I just want to fuck you." he said simply, and somehow, that hurt the most.

Your throat burned. Fucking bastard.

"Right," you whispered, voice trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak. Your nails dug into your palms so hard it hurt. "So I guess I was just some easy fuck to you, then?"

His expression didn't change, not even a flicker of guilt. His gaze swept over you lazily, bored, like he was already done with this conversation.

You could feel your resolve crumbling.

You wanted to slap him, to scream in his face, to put a fucking ax in his head for being such a heartless asshole. But you never did.

"You know what, Heeseung?" You took a step back, blinking away the sting in your eyes. "I actually thought—fuck, I actually thought you gave a shit about me." You let out a breathless chuckle, shaking your head. "But you don't, do you? You never did."

"God, I was so fucking stupid." You wiped at your face angrily. "Waiting for you to text me back like an idiot, hoping that maybe—maybe this time, it meant something." Your voice wavered, but you kept going. "But nah, right? It's just sex. Just another girl warming your bed. Just another weekend before you move on to the next."

"Fucking say something, Heeseung!" you snapped, stepping closer, shoving his chest. He didn't even budge. He just looked down at you, dark eyes blank.

And then—finally—he spoke.

"What do you want me to say?" His voice was low. "You knew what this was. I never lied to you. Whatever what's happening between us, it's just casual fuck."

Your stomach twisted. Right, casual.

"Fuck you." Your voice cracked.

You turned your back on him, forcing yourself to walk away, each step heavier than the last.

And the worst part? He didn't even follow you.

No "wait." No "don't go." No "I'm sorry."

Just silence.

The street felt too empty, the cold night air biting at your skin, but nothing compared to the hollowness settling deep in your chest. You had thought—no, you had hoped—that maybe Heeseung saw you as more.

But he didn't.

Because Heeseung wasn't the kind of guy to need anyone.

Not the way you needed him.

And you were done.

You were going to free yourself from this. No more late-night texts that made your stomach flip. No more rearranging your plans just to see him. No more pretending that his touches meant something when, in reality, they meant nothing.

You weren't going to be his puppy, following him around, saying yes to every last-minute "come over" text like some desperate loser.

You were leaving.

Right.

...

So why was it so fucking hard?

Why, after days of stubborn silence, after forcing yourself not to check your phone, were you back here again?

Why were you in his fucking passenger seat, his fingers buried inside you, his mouth pressed between your thighs, making you fall apart like the past week never even happened?

And why—why—did it still feel so fucking good?

You hated this. Hated him. Hated yourself more.

"That's it, baby. Moan for me." Heeseung groaned against your soaked folds, his voice low, dripping with hunger. His hands were everywhere—one gripping your thigh, keeping you spread open, the other palming your breast, his thumb lazily flicking over your nipple.

It felt so good, so maddeningly good, and that made you want to fucking cry.

"More—please, please." Your voice came out breathless, a plea wrapped in desperation.

Heeseung let out a low groan against your cunt, the vibration sending another shudder down your spine. "Can't get enough of you," he muttered, voice wrecked, needy—but you knew better than to believe it.

Because Heeseung never needed anyone.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue in slow, teasing strokes before dragging it down, tracing messy patterns over your entrance.

Then—his fingers. His hand slid down, tracing along your slit before thrusting inside suddenly, stretching you open, curling perfectly to hit that spot that made your legs tremble.

"Fuck—Heeseung!" You gasped, hips bucking, your back arching off the seat.

He was too good at this—too good at knowing your body, too good at making you fall apart, too good at breaking you down piece by piece until you forgot why you were mad, why you ever wanted to leave.

Your hands tangled in his hair, your fingers twisting at the roots as your legs shook. Heeseung groaned at the sting of your pull, pushing his fingers deeper, his tongue working faster, dragging you closer to the edge.

"Heeseung," you whined, voice high, breathless. "Getting close—please—"

And this was why you kept coming back. Because he knew you. Knew your body. Knew exactly how to ruin you.

Because the way he touched you—the way he kissed you, the way he fucked you—it felt too real.

Heeseung was right. He never made you any promises. Never gave you any reason to believe this was something more than sex.

You were just a dumb, stupid girl who kept misreading his actions. Who kept thinking she was special. But you weren't.

And yet, despite knowing all of that, despite the anger twisting in your chest, your fucking heart fluttered when he pulled himself up, his lips crashing into yours while his fingers still worked inside you. And you hated it.

Hated how he kissed you so slow, like he was savoring you.

Hated how he moved his fingers just right, drawing out every last wave of pleasure, dragging out your orgasm until you were crying against his mouth.

Hated how he made it feel intimate—

And hated yourself the most. Because no matter how much it hurt, no matter how many times he ghosted you, ignored you, acted like you were nothing—

You knew you'd still come back.

Like a fucking idiot.

And you really were stupid. Because after everything—after the nights he spent inside you, after the way he kissed you like he meant it—Heeseung was still the same.

Still cocky. Still stupidly attractive as he leaned against the lockers in the university hallway, a lazy smirk on his lips, talking to some girl. Did it shock you? No. Did it hurt? Absolutely.

The lump in your throat grew heavier, thick with something you refused to name. You forced yourself to walk past him, shoulders stiff, steps quick—like he was nothing to you. Like last night, when he had you moaning his name in his passenger seat, never happened.

But he didn't even look at you. Didn't glance up. Didn't acknowledge you.

Your hands curled into fists, nails digging into your palms as you swallowed the sting.

Because that's what you were, right? Nothing.

Not his girlfriend. Not someone he cared about. Just another name on his list, another girl who meant nothing the second he zipped up his jeans.

And yet, you still hated the way your stomach twisted when the girl he was talking to giggled, leaning in closer. Hated the way he smirked, tilting his head like he was already picturing her naked. The same way he did to you.

Your chest ached.

You felt the bed shift, the mattress sinking under his weight. Then, warm hands—his hands—sliding over your waist, fingers pressing against your bare skin.

Soft lips ghosted along your neck.

"Who the fuck let you in?" Your voice was flat, uninterested, even as your grip on your phone tightened. You didn't turn to face him.

"Natty."

You scoffed. "Ha. I doubt it."

"Swear on my life, baby." Heeseung's voice was low, teasing, the way it always was when he wanted something.

You laughed, sarcastic.

"Missed you," he whined, arms tightening around you, his tongue flicking out to lick the sensitive skin just below your ear. That spot he knew drove you crazy.

"What happened to the girl you were talking to yesterday?" you asked, voice dripping in bitterness. "Couldn't get into her pants?"

Heeseung laughed—laughed—like this was all some joke to him. His hands slipped under your shirt, palms gliding up your stomach, his breath hitching when he realized—

"Fuck, no bra?" He cursed under his breath, squeezing your breast, his thumb rolling over your nipple.

Your body arch, you hated it, but still reacted.

"Nah," he continued, his lips tracing the shell of your ear. "Just... nothing compared to you."

You almost wanted to choke him. But instead, you swallowed the frustration bubbling in your chest and forced your voice to stay steady.

"Your sister told me you should come home this weekend." You changed the topic, ignoring his fingers still lazily squeezing your chest.

Heeseung huffed a quiet laugh against your neck, completely unfazed.

"Huh? You guys always talk." He sounded amused, like this was cute to him.

You rolled your eyes. "Because you're not replying to their messages. Your mom worries about you."

His hands didn't stop. Of course, they didn't. He was still kneading, still playing with you, his thumbs rolling slow, lazy circles over your nipples as if you weren't trying to have a serious conversation.

He hummed in response, shifting slightly to lie back against your bed, tugging you against his chest.

"Hmm, okay." He finally said, completely casual.

You swallowed, your heart thudding stupidly at the way he pulled you in, the way he tucked you against him.

"Want to come with me?"

Your breath hitched.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to see him over your shoulder. A small smirk tugging at his lips as if he was already expecting your reaction.

Wide eyes. Stupidly hopeful heart. Fucking idiot.

"Why?" Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be.

Heeseung's fingers trailed down your stomach, dipping just under the waistband of your shorts, making your breath hitch.

"What do you mean why?" he murmured, lips brushing against your shoulder. "Wouldn't it be fun?"

You clenched your jaw, fingers curling into the bedsheets.

"Right," you muttered, looking away. "Just fun."

And of course, you still said yes. Because who wouldn't want an instant vacation?

At least, that's what you told yourself. That this was just a trip. Just an escape. Not another excuse to be near Heeseung. Not another way to keep fooling yourself.

So you ignored the nagging in your chest, ignored the way he carried your bag.

Ignored how fucking easy it was to slip into the illusion of being his as both of you stepped into the small, cozy house.

The moment the door swung open, a woman who looked exactly like him rushed forward, eyes bright, a tearful smile on her face.

"I missed you, my boy!" She practically tackled Heeseung, wrapping her arms around him so tightly that even he seemed a little surprised.

He scoffed but hugged her back, his usual lazy smirk softening just a little. "Ma, I told you I was gonna visit soon. Tell Haneul to stop bothering us."

You blinked, shifting awkwardly as the woman—his mother—finally pulled back, wiping at the corner of her eyes before her gaze fell on you.

And before you could react, she hugged you, too.

Your whole body stiffened. What the fuck.

"You must be the girl Haneul keeps talking about," she said warmly, stepping back just enough to study your face. "Is Heeseung treating you right?"

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. You had no idea how to respond to that.

Your eyes flickered to Heeseung, who had already dropped both of your bags onto the couch, watching you with a raised brow, completely unbothered.

You swallowed, forcing out a tight, awkward laugh.

"We're not actually together, madam." You admitted, your voice stiff, uncertain.

His mother blinked, the warmth in her eyes faltering just slightly. "Oh."

You could feel Heeseung's eyes on you, but you didn't dare look at him. Your fingers twisted in the hem of your shirt, heart hammering in your chest.

And then, his mother smiled. Soft. Knowing. "I see."

You spent your days with his family wearing a smile, pretending it didn't hurt to exist in this space that wasn't really yours.

His sister, Haneul, was a breath of fresh air—constantly chattering about life, relationships, and the latest dramas, seamlessly pulling you into conversations that felt easy. She told you how glad she was that you were here, that someone like you was easy to talk to, unlike her emotionally constipated brother.

"Heeseung doesn't get it," she had said with a playful eye roll, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I swear, he's impossible to talk to sometimes. But you... I can tell you actually listen."

Her words made something warm stir in your chest.

His mother, on the other hand, couldn't stop talking about him—stories of him as a child, wild and reckless, stubborn and free.

"You should've seen him," she laughed, eyes twinkling with nostalgia. "Always climbing trees, always getting himself into trouble. One time, he fell and scraped up his entire knee, but do you think he cried? No. He just looked at me and said, 'It doesn't hurt, Ma,' even though his leg was bleeding like crazy."

His father chuckled, shaking his head. "Stupid boy still complains like hell when he stubs his toe, though."

You laughed along, your chest tightening as you glanced at Heeseung, waiting to see how he would react to their teasing. But he only sighed, shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

Later, at the sea, you sat on the warm sand, toes buried in the grains, watching the waves crash against the shore. But your eyes weren't on the water. They were on him.

Heeseung was playing with his younger cousins, his laughter echoing through the salty air as he ran across the sand, chasing after them with an easy, boyish grin you had never seen before.

His usual cocky, indifferent mask was gone. No teasing smirks. No smug glances. No careless words designed to keep you at a distance.

You watched as he scooped up one of the kids, tossing them playfully over his shoulder while they shrieked in laughter. Heeseung's eyes crinkled at the corners, his shoulders shaking with amusement as he spun them around before dropping them gently back onto the sand.

He was so different.

This version of him—the one who smiled without arrogance, who laughed without restraint, who looked so effortlessly warm and real—was a version you had never been allowed to see before.

Then, as if feeling your stare, his gaze flicked up to meet yours.

Your breath caught.

His lips curled into a familiar smirk, the mask slipping back into place, and suddenly, he was walking toward you.

Your pulse spiked.

Oh, fuck no.

You scrambled to stand, to put distance between you before he could ruin you any further, but you had barely taken two steps when strong arms wrapped around your waist, yanking you off the ground.

"Heeseung!" you shrieked, kicking your feet as he lifted you effortlessly, his grip firm.

He laughed, breath warm against your ear. "Where do you think you're going, huh?"

Your stomach twisted.

You should be mad—and you were—but the way he held you, the way he pressed his forehead against your temple as he spun you around, made something deep inside you crumble.

"Put me down, you asshole!" You squirmed, trying to sound pissed, trying to ignore the way your heart was slamming against your ribs.

But Heeseung only grinned, holding you tighter.

"Not a chance, baby."

As the days of your so-called vacation slipped by, you found yourself in Heeseung's bed, again, the soft glow of his bedside lamp casting shadows across his face.

Both of you lay tangled in the sheets, talking, laughing—about nothing, about everything.

You stared at the ceiling, heart pounding a little too fast, stomach twisting a little too tight.

Was it casual for the both of you to stay up until 4 AM, talking shit about the people you hated, exchanging knowing glances as you made fun of your professors, the fake smiles of people you both barely tolerated?

Was it casual to hear him laugh—really laugh—not that cocky, arrogant chuckle, but something softer?

Was it casual that he traced lazy patterns on your bare thigh while he talked?

One second, you were talking. The next, his lips were on yours, hungry, as if he couldn't help himself.

What was supposed to be one last fuck before sleep turned into something more, something too much. The way he touched you was different tonight, his fingers coaxing sounds from you you didn't even recognize as your own. The way he fucked you was relentless, teasing, overwhelming, pushing you past your limits until you squirted—until you were too tired to move, too weak to even change the sheets.

So you stayed there. In the mess of it all.

The damp sheets clinging to your skin, the scent of sex still lingering in the air, the weight of him pressed against you.

His arms draped lazily around your waist, pulling you close. His head resting on your chest, his breath warm, steady, as he slept so soundly—like he didn't just ruin you all over again. Like this wasn't killing you inside.

You lay there, wide awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the way his fingers twitched in his sleep, the way his breathing hitched slightly before evening out again.

On the last day of your stay, the two of you sat at Heeseung's childhood hideout—a small, secluded clearing behind his house, nestled between overgrown trees and old memories he never talked about. The sky was dark, the moon barely peeking through the leaves, and the only sounds were the distant hum of cicadas and the soft crackle of burning cigarettes between your fingers.

Heeseung exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his head tilted back.

"I hate my father for always shouting," he muttered, his voice flat, detached.

You watched the cigarette between your fingers, tapping off the ash, not saying anything. Just listening.

"My mother always tolerated him. Always crying, always forcing a smile, pretending he didn't just spit the ugliest words at her."

You nodded, silent, because what the hell were you supposed to say to that?

"She wasn't any better, though." He let out a humorless chuckle, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. "I love her, but I can't fucking stand how she talks about everything I should be doing. Like I'm still some little kid who needs to be told how to live my life."

You took a drag, the bitter taste settling heavy on your tongue.

"That's why I'm not fond of visiting this place."

You hummed, watching the way his fingers twitched slightly as he took another drag, like this conversation was pulling things out of him he wasn't used to sharing.

"Your sister misses you, y'know." You finally spoke, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "She told me she kinda hates you for leaving her alone."

That made him pause. His lips parted slightly, brows furrowing, before he shook his head with a laugh, blowing out another cloud. "God, I forgot you two are close."

You smiled faintly. "We always talk on the phone. She said she found me through some Facebook post where your arms were around me. She probably assumed we were friends and added me. Then the first thing she messaged me was, 'Tell your ugly-ass boyfriend to text me, or I'm disowning him.'"

Heeseung let out a real laugh at that, shaking his head. "She actually called me an ugly dick once."

"She's not wrong." You snickered, inhaling the last of your cigarette before pulling it away. "Shit, that fast?" You huffed, flicking away the short remains.

"Come try mine."

Before you could react, Heeseung took one last drag, then leaned in, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, fingers warm against your skin.

You froze as his face came closer, his lips parting slightly, and then—he exhaled.

The smoke passed between you, warm and heady, sinking into your lungs as your lips hovered inches from his.

His nose bumped yours, eyes dark and lidded, waiting.

Your mouth opened, your lips brushing against his, and then—he kissed you. Tilting his head, as he deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours, tasting of smoke.

As you broke the kiss, your fingers ghosted over his, plucking the cigarette from his grasp. You kept your eyes locked on his, refusing to look away.

You took a slow drag, letting the smoke settle in your lungs before exhaling, the faint haze lingering between you.

"I love you, Heeseung."

The words left your mouth like a gunshot.

His smile faltered.

"Not just love that wants to fuck." Your grip on the cigarette tightened. "I want to date you. Take me on a date. Buy me flowers. Be my boyfriend."

Heeseung just stared at you.

"Let's go back." No hesitation, no acknowledgment, like you hadn't just laid your heart out in front of him.

He stood up, grabbing your hand as if nothing had happened, pulling you up without meeting your eyes.

"Heeseung, I love you." Your voice was firmer now, but he walked faster, avoiding it, avoiding you.

Your stomach twisted. Your fingers curled around his wrist, trying to stop him from running away.

"Heeseung, I said I love you." You said it louder this time, forcing him to hear it, forcing him to acknowledge the words that hung between you like a curse.

Heeseung let out a sharp exhale, pushing the house door open.

His parents looked up as you both entered, his mother smiling sweetly.

"Oh, I was just about to cook your favorite—" she started.

"I'm gonna go shower," he cut her off, already heading toward the stairs.

"Okay, come down after," his mother replied, still warm, still gentle, still unaware of the way her son was running from you.

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile at them before following him upstairs, your heart pounding against your ribs.

Heeseung entered his room without a word, shrugging off his jacket, then his shirt. You watched as he stripped without hesitation, his toned back flexing before he disappeared into the bathroom.

"Heeseung, say something." Your voice cracked,

He turned on the shower, stepping under the stream of water, not even looking at you as he finally spoke.

"I'm gonna take a bath. It's either you leave—" He finally turned, his dark eyes locking onto yours, voice dropping lower. "—or I'll be fucking you."

Your breath caught.

There it was.

The only thing he could offer you.

Your fingers trembled at your sides. The ache in your chest was unbearable, clawing at your ribs, threatening to break you apart.

You should leave. You should. You should turn around, walk out, let this be the moment you finally let him go.

Your vision blurred. You felt the hot sting of tears slipping down your cheeks before you could stop them.

Fuck it.

Before you could think, before you could let the pain settle, you reached for the hem of your shirt, tearing it over your head. Then your shorts, your underwear—every piece of clothing stripped away, tossed carelessly onto the floor.

When you looked up, Heeseung was staring.

The steam from the shower curled around him, water sliding down his bare chest, dripping from his hair. His lips parted slightly, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of you.

You stepped forward, your skin meeting the warmth of the bathroom air, your bare feet silent against the tile. Heeseung didn't move, didn't pull away as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his.

His skin was hot, wet from the water, his breath shaky as your lips brushed against his.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers slipping into his damp hair as you tugged him down, your lips brushing over his—soft at first, then deeper, needier.

Your toes curled against the cool tile, your body tilting, stretching to reach him, but he was too fucking tall.

He let out a quiet chuckle at your struggle, hands sliding down to your waist, gripping tight as he adjusted, leaning lower to meet you, kissing you back.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as his tongue tangled with yours, deep and slow, tasting of heat. Your body burned as his hands roamed freely.

His fingers slid up, trailing to your breasts, squeezing, kneading, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. You let out a soft moan into his mouth, arching against him.

Your hand slipped between your bodies, wrapping around his hardened cock, stroking him slowly, teasingly.

Heeseung groaned, his grip on your breast tightening for a moment before his head dropped against your shoulder, breath heavy, unsteady.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice wrecked, his hips twitching slightly into your touch.

Your lips curled, satisfied, pressing kisses along his jawline, teasing nips along his skin. You could feel his pulse hammering beneath your lips, the way his breathing hitched as you kissed your way lower, lower.

Until you were kneeling in front of him.

Face to face with his cock, thick and throbbing, precum already dripping from the flushed tip.

His hand curled into your hair, you look at him with your eyes before slowly putting his tip on your mouth. Then—slowly—you parted your lips, letting the flushed tip press against your tongue before taking him into your mouth.

Heeseung groaned, his grip tightening, his hips giving a slight, involuntary jerk forward as you hollowed your cheeks and took him deeper. The warm water from the shower dripped over both of you, rivulets sliding down his abs, over the flex of his thighs.

Your tongue dragged along his shaft, tracing every ridge, every vein, before pressing flat against the underside as you swallowed him further. His breath came out in a shudder, his jaw clenched as he watched you—watched the way your lips stretched around him, the way you let him slide deeper, let him use your mouth the way he wanted.

His hips began to move, slow at first, then rougher.

"Fuck—" He sucked in a sharp breath, his voice wrecked as you took all of him, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You choked, eyes watering, but you didn’t pull away.

One of your hands slipped between your own legs, fingers pressing against your aching cunt, rubbing slow circles over your clit as you lost yourself in the mix of pain and pleasure.

Heeseung’s gaze flickered down, and the sight of you touching yourself while sucking his cock had his restraint snapping.

"Shit, you’re too good for me." His voice was nothing but a rough whisper, barely audible over the sound of the water hitting tile.

His thrusts grew rougher, deeper, forcing you to take all of him, tears spilling at the corners of your eyes. He stopped suddenly, backing away.

You gasped for air, lips swollen, throat raw. But before you could process the loss, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you to your feet.

Your back hit the cold, slippery wall as he spun you around, his chest pressing flush against you, trapping you there.

The heat between you was suffocating.

You moaned as his cock slid between your thighs, not inside you yet—just teasing, just rubbing against your slick folds, coating himself in your wetness. He moved slow, dragging himself along your entrance, letting you feel every inch before he pushed in.

You gasped, your nails scraping against the wet tile as he filled you completely, stretching you, stealing the air from your lungs. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you still as he buried himself inside you to the hilt.

"Fuck—" Heeseung panted against your shoulder, his breath hot, ragged, his body shuddering at the feeling of you wrapped around him.

He started slow—savoring it, dragging it out, rolling his hips in deep, deliberate strokes that had you clenching around him, your legs trembling.

His pace quickened, his thrusts growing harder, needier, the sound of skin against skin mixing with your ragged moans. Your knees buckled, your body going weak, but his arm wrapped around you before you could collapse, pulling you closer.

Then, without warning, he hooked one arm under your thigh, lifting your leg, changing the angle.

You cried out his name, your head falling back against his shoulder as he slammed into you deeper, hitting that spot that made your vision blur.

"You sound so good moaning my name—fuck—but keep quiet for me, baby, hmm?" Heeseung whispered against your ear.

You tried—tried to muffle your moans, biting your lip so hard you nearly drew blood.

But when his hand slid up, fingers tweaking your nipple, and his other hand dipped lower to rub slow, cruel circles over your clit, you couldn’t hold back.

"C-close," you choked out, pressing your forehead against the wall, your body tightening around him. "Can I? Please, please—"

His fingers moved faster, his thrusts turning relentless, dragging you to the edge.

"Shh," he hushed, his free hand moving from your breast to cover your mouth, muffling the desperate sounds spilling from your lips.

Your orgasm ripped through you, your body trembling violently as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your walls fluttering around him as you came hard, legs shaking.

But Heeseung didn’t stop.

Didn’t even slow down.

He spun you around effortlessly, lifting you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he slammed you against the wall, thrusting up into you with reckless abandon.

You were whimpering, your body too sensitive, too raw—but the way his cock hit all the right spots had you falling apart all over again.

"Fuck, take it," Heeseung groaned, his grip on your hips bruising.

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but feel.

Your hands slid into his wet hair, fingers tangling in the damp strands as you pushed it back, forcing yourself to look at him—really look at him.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched, his lips parted as he moaned your name.

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, forcing his gaze onto you.

So close. So yours.

Then, with a sharp gasp, his hips stuttered, his cock twitching deep inside you.

And as your walls tightened around him once more, dragging him over the edge, his mouth met yours in a desperate, messy kiss, swallowing each other’s moans as he spilled inside you.

His grip on you tightened, his thrusts faltering, his body shuddering as he rode out his high.

You stayed close for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling in sync.

Heeseung let out a soft exhale before slowly lowering your feet to the ground, his hands slipping from your body.

You blinked up at him, searching for something—anything—in his face. But he was already turning away, reaching for the soap, brushing his hands over his own body as if nothing had just happened.

A pang of disappointment settled deep in your chest.

Your thighs trembled, his release still dripping out of you, and without thinking, you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. Holding onto him like he wouldn’t slip away.

But he froze.

And then—slowly, carefully, deliberately—he peeled your arms off of him.

Your throat tightened.

Heeseung didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at you. Instead, he grabbed the soap again, rubbing it between his palms before sliding his hands over your body—cleaning you.

You wanted to say something. Wanted to break through whatever invisible wall had gone up between you.

But the only sound was the running water, washing everything away.

That night, you sat beside Haneul at dinner, forcing a smile, forcing yourself to act normal even though everything inside you was crumbling.

Heeseung didn’t look at you. Instead, he shoveled rice into his mouth, nodding along as his parents talked.

You forced yourself to eat, each bite turning to sawdust in your mouth. Forced yourself to laugh at his father’s jokes. Forced yourself to swallow the bitterness burning in your throat.

And when it was time to leave, Haneul hugged you tightly, her shoulders shaking as she clung to you.

"I’m gonna miss you so much," she sniffled, pressing her face into your shoulder.

You hugged her back, blinking rapidly, trying not to cry too.

You felt so loved in this house—by everyone except the one person you wanted it from the most.

The train ride back was worse.

Heeseung sat beside you, but he never looked at you. Never spoke.

It was like you were nothing more than a stranger sitting next to him.

You swallowed the ache in your chest and slowly lifted your hand, brushing your fingers over his, searching for something—anything.

His eyes flickered down, annoyance flashing across his face as he pulled his hand away like your touch burned him.

You felt your stomach drop. You turned your head, staring out the window, your fingers curling into your lap as you fought the stupid tears stinging the back of your eyes.

But at least you confessed, right? At least you let your feelings slip through the cracks. As long as Heeseung kept coming back to you, it had to mean something.

Right?

The following days were harder.

Because you were the one who kept coming back.

You were the one who kept bothering him, knocking on his door late at night, spreading your legs for him just so he would let you stay.

You were the one whispering soft "I love yous" against his skin, hoping—praying—he’d say it back.

But he never did. And every time you tried to reach for him—tried to hold him, tried to kiss him just because, not just when he was fucking you—he would sigh, irritated, pulling away with that same tired look in his eyes.

"Go bother someone else."

But you still stayed. Because you told yourself that this was enough. That loving him, even like this, was enough. That if you gave him more time, if you loved him hard enough, he would eventually love you back.

But then—why did it feel so awful?

So fucking awful knowing that he was only good to you when he wanted something?

So fucking awful when you reached for him, only to be pushed away?

So fucking awful when he sighed every time you whispered "I love you," like you had ruined the moment?

You kept crying at night.

At first, it was quiet—silent tears soaking into your pillow, muffled sobs that you convinced yourself were just temporary. But the more the days stretched on, the worse it got. The exhaustion, the emptiness, the way everything felt so fucking heavy.

You were barely sleeping. Barely eating.

By the time you dragged yourself to class, you were nothing more than a walking corpse—a ghost of yourself, barely functioning, barely holding it together.

Julie and Natty tried to pull you out of it. They dragged you to cafés, talked about mindless things, gossiped about the latest drama, hoping it would distract you.

But nothing worked. Your mind was always somewhere else. On him.

And when that didn’t help, when you couldn’t sit still in a crowded café pretending you weren’t falling apart, you found yourself outside. Leaning against a streetlamp, standing in the corner of an alley, a cigarette dangling from your lips as you smoked, staring blankly at the city around you.

You had never been much of a smoker before. But now, it was routine. Now, it was something to do when you didn’t know what else to do.

Because Heeseung wasn’t in his dorm. Because Heeseung wasn’t texting you back.

You stared at your phone, debating whether or not to message him again—just one more time, just to see where he was, just to make sure he wasn’t with someone else.

But you already knew the answer. Sunghoon told you he had been partying. Of course, he was.

Drinking, dancing, probably fucking someone else—living his best fucking life while you were here, wasting away in your own misery.

You were miserable, weren’t you? Pathetic.

In love with a guy who never gave a shit about you, who only saw you as another body count—another name in his phone.

Fuck him.

"You need to get over this, babe," Julie said, dragging you into the mall, her fingers gripping your wrist like you might try to run.

"Stop acting like your whole life revolves around some asshole." Natty huffed, shoving a pile of clothes into your arms. "Try something new. Get a haircut. Get a piercing. Do something instead of moping around like this."

So you did.

You let them drag you from store to store, let them pick out outfits you barely looked at. You even sat through a piercing appointment, letting them stab metal into your skin—a new helix, a capital piercing, even one in your septum.

But none of it helped. Not really.

You still looked like someone who had stopped caring.

Your hair had grown wavier, messier, tangled from nights spent tossing and turning in a bed that still smelled like him. Your makeup was smudged from crying too much, sleeping too little.

And now—here you were. Sitting in a restroom stall, your fingers fumbling with another cigarette, the cold metal of your piercings pressing against your skin as you exhaled shakily, trying not to break down again.

But the tears came anyway.

You curled over yourself, palm covering your face, inhaling deep, shaky breaths as the nicotine burned down your throat. Why him? Why did you let yourself get so lost in someone who only reached for you when it was convenient?

Why did you still miss him—even now?

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to push the thoughts away—

"Okay, okay, I'll send you the links we need to order. Stop being stupid and listen to me! It’s a birthday party, okay? Not a damn Halloween—God."

Your head snapped up. A voice that is sharp and masculine.

Wait—

Did you just walk into the men’s restroom?

"Agh, what the fuck, it reeks of cigarettes in here."

Your stomach dropped.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to put out the cigarette as quickly as possible, waving away the lingering smoke. The last thing you needed was some random guy judging you for being an emotional wreck in the bathroom.

You waited. Listening.

When silence stretched, you assumed he was gone.

But the second you stepped out of the stall— You froze.

And so did he.

Standing at the sink, washing his hands, was a guy you had never seen before. His dark hair was down, strands still damp from the rain outside. His skin was pale, almost glowing under the fluorescent lights. His nose was sharp, lips plump and pink, his hooded eyes watching you with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Then, his gaze flickered to the restroom sign by the door.

Then back to you.

He grabbed a napkin, drying his hands before picking up his phone, ending the call mid-conversation.

"Are you a trans man?"

Your face burned.

"No!" You blurted out quickly, biting your lip in embarrassment. "I—I’m sorry, I thought this was the female restroom, and—uh—sorry about the smell."

The guy in front of you let out a small, amused hum, his lips twitching, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he dug through his bag, fingers searching for something until he finally pulled out a small candy, offering it to you with an outstretched palm.

"Here. Eat this."

You blinked, staring at him.

"Not judging or anything," he continued, shrugging, "but cigarettes smell disgusting in your mouth. What if there’s an emergency and you need to kiss someone?"

A small, breathless laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it.

"There’s no someone," you muttered, taking the candy from his hand. The moment it touched your tongue, the sharp sweetness cut through the bitter taste of nicotine.

The guy tilted his head, watching you with a slight smirk before rummaging through his bag again. A second later, he held out a small travel-sized bottle.

"You need perfume?"

You frowned. "Do I smell that bad?"

"Hey, I’m just offering," he said, grinning.

You sighed but took it anyway, spraying a little on your wrist before rubbing it against your neck. The light, citrusy scent replaced the stale stench of smoke.

Both of you walked out of the restroom together, passing by an older man who had been about to step inside. The second he saw you, his eyes widened in horror, and he muttered something under his breath while making the sign of the cross.

"God forgive these teens," the old man whispered, shaking his head as he entered the restroom.

The guy beside you rolled his eyes. "Drama queen."

You laughed, and he turned his head slightly, studying your face.

"See you later," he muttered before walking away, but then he hesitated for just a second, throwing a look over his shoulder. "Oh, and don’t smoke."

Soon enough, you were right back where you always were.

In his dorm. In his bed. In his arms, like nothing had changed.

The second you saw Heeseung, you collapsed onto his bed, clinging to him, hugging him tight like you hadn’t been falling apart for the past few days.

"Where have you been?" you asked, burying your face into his chest.

You felt his body shift slightly as he looked down at you, eyes scanning your face.

"What happened to you?" His voice was unreadable.

His gaze flickered to the piercings on your ears, your new septum, the slight dark circles beneath your eyes that no amount of concealer could fully hide.

Suddenly, you felt exposed.

"O-oh," you stammered, reaching up to tug at your hair. "I got piercings… out of boredom. Do they look good?"

Then, Heeseung’s eyes dropped back to his phone, completely ignoring your question.

The air shifted. Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to swallow it down.

So, instead, you talked. Told him about the past few days, about nothing and everything, about all the things you wished he had cared enough to ask.

And just like always—it ended the same way.

Him, thrusting into you like he needed you to break.

Your nails, clawing at his back like you needed to hold on.

Your legs, wrapped around his waist like you were scared he would disappear if you let go.

Your body, begging for something your heart already knew you would never have.

"I love you," you whispered into his ear, voice trembling, breath shaky.

Heeseung’s movements slowed for half a second.

You held onto that second like it meant something.

"You know it’s not just casual for me," you whispered again, pressing your lips to his shoulder, desperate for him to understand. "I feel it. I know you do too."

And then—he slipped his hand away from your body. The loss of warmth was instant, suffocating, unbearable.

"Fuck, here we go again," Heeseung muttered under his breath, exhaling sharply.

You swallowed, suddenly cold, suddenly empty.

"Did you really not feel anything?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper. "How do you keep coming back if it’s nothing?"

He ran a hand over his face, groaning in frustration.

"God, because your pussy is good!" His voice snapped, sharp and cruel, piercing straight through you. "You’re being so fucking clingy, it’s pathetic! I don’t want a fucking romantic relationship with you! I just want to fuck! How long are you gonna make me repeat that?!"

"What about the times we cuddle?" Your voice cracked. "The way you take care of me after? You even invited me to meet your family! Was that all just—casual? Just fucking?! How long are you going to deny this?!"

Heeseung’s eyes flashed.

"Deny?!" He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Do you think any of that was special? I was just treating you with basic fucking human decency! Stop being so fucking delusional!"

The words hit harder than a slap. This was dumb love. This was pathetic love.

This was you, being fucking stupid.

Because even after all this, even after every horrible thing he had just said—you still loved him.

And he still treated you the same.

"Fuck, I miss those days that you were feisty and wild, not this annoying bitch who cry about everything."

Your vision blurred. You barely felt yourself move as you ripped yourself from his bed, scrambling to collect your clothes, your hands shaking so violently you could barely pull your shirt over your head.

You just needed to leave. Needed to breathe.

By the time you reached the door, your entire body was numb.

The only sound was the sharp echo of your footsteps against the floor as you stormed out of his dorm, not daring to look back.

Sunghoon was in the kitchen when you passed, leaning against the counter, a drink in his hand. His head lifted slightly at the sight of you—disheveled, eyes red, breathing uneven.

You ran. Ran until your lungs burned, until the cold air stung your skin, until the only thing you could hear was the echo of your own footsteps against the empty streets.

And then you screamed. Loud. Raw.

Kicking a nearby trash can with all your strength, watching as it toppled over, spilling its contents onto the pavement.

You wanted to rip yourself apart. Wanted to tear out the part of you that still loved him.

By the time you stumbled into a small convenience store, your body was trembling—anger, exhaustion, heartbreak—it all blurred into one.

You didn’t even look at the shelves. Your hands reached straight for the pack of cigarettes, slamming it onto the counter.

"Not getting anything else, ma’am?"

The voice made you freeze. Your gaze lifted, meeting a pair of soft, knowing eyes behind the register.

Oh.

The same guy from before. The one who had given you candy in the restroom.

Your eyes flickered to his name tag.

Sunoo.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle, careful, like he could see right through you.

You swallowed, your throat dry. "You told me not to smoke, but here I am buying." You forced a smile, but it felt fake, hollow—like you were trying to convince yourself that you weren’t falling apart.

Sunoo didn’t look judgmental. He just tilted his head slightly, watching you.

"It’s okay." He shrugged. "It’s not healthy, but if that’s what you need to cope, then let yourself be. I just said that before because, well… I don’t think smoking is good for you."

You let out a small breath, setting the pack aside. "Well, what do you suggest?"

Sunoo hummed, tapping his chin in thought. "Maybe cutting your hair? Adding another piercing? Listening to music, crocheting, doing your makeup, reading books, watching movies—there’s a lot you could do instead."

You blinked.

"You really think cutting my hair is gonna fix this mess?" You gestured vaguely at yourself.

"No," he said, grinning. "But it’s a start."

You laughed. It was small. Short. You reached for a pack of bubble gum instead, placing it on the counter. "I’ll take note of that. Just punch this in instead."

Sunoo smiled, ringing up your item. "I’m Sunoo, by the way. If you ever need someone to talk to, I can give you my number."

You hesitated. And then—you pulled out your phone. Because God knows you needed it.

Turns out, Sunoo was one year younger than you—a sophomore at your university, but an irregular student, which explained why you had never crossed paths before.

And somehow, in the span of a few weeks, he became the one person you could be completely honest with. You told him everything. Everything about Heeseung.

How you loved him stupidly, blindly, recklessly. How he used you, broke you, ignored you—but you still kept coming back.

Sunoo never judged. Never told you you were dumb for loving the wrong person. He just listened. And when you cried, he let you.

Sometimes, he would visit your dorm just to sit with you, listening as you let it all out.

You tried not to feel guilty about dumping all your burdens on him, but every time you apologized, he just waved you off.

"It’s fine," he said, "I’d rather listen than see you destroy yourself over someone who doesn’t deserve you."

And maybe that’s what finally pushed you forward. What finally gave you the courage to do what you should’ve done a long time ago.

You blocked Heeseung’s number.

At first, it made your chest feel tight, like you had just slammed a door shut on something that had been part of you for too long.

But as the days passed, the feeling of relief started to outweigh the ache.

You even made a bigger decision.

You moved. Packed up your things and transferred to a new dorm—closer to Sunoo, further from Heeseung.

When you told Natty, she cried, whining dramatically about how you were replacing her.

But deep down, she understood. She understood that if you stayed, if you kept yourself in the same routine, the same dorm, the same hallways that led you back to him, you’d never really escape.

So she helped you pack, helped you move, hugged you so tightly before you left, whispering, "You deserve better."

You changed. Not overnight. Not all at once.

But slowly, little by little, you found yourself again.

The clothes you used to think weren’t your style? You started to love them.

Sunoo helped you with your hair, trimming it, dyeing it a new color every week just because you could.

"New hair, new era," he declared, dragging you into the bathroom with a towel around your shoulders. "We’re bleaching this shit."

You let him. Because why the fuck not? It was just hair. It would grow back, just like you would.

You started going out more. Not to drown yourself in cigarettes or alcohol, not to forget, but to exist again.

You filled your days with movies, books, stupid little hobbies that made you feel something.

And little by little—you learned how to breathe again.

"Are you ready?"

"No."

"Too late, babe."

Sunoo laughed, gripping your hand as you sat in the piercing studio, white-knuckled and nervous as hell.

"I swear to God, if I pass out, you better not record me."

"Mmm… no promises." He smirked, already holding up his phone, camera locked on you.

You groaned, gripping his hand like you were giving birth as the piercer prepped the needle.

Your heart pounded. You had watched so many videos of girls fainting from navel piercings. It was supposed to hurt like hell, right?

"Okay, deep breath in," the piercer said.

You inhaled. And then you felt the pain, the sharp stabbing pain.

"FUCK, IT HURTS!" You screamed, throwing your head against Sunoo’s chest.

He cackled, arms wrapping around you dramatically, rocking you back and forth. "You’re doing amazing, sweetie."

His other hand? Filming.

The needle went through. Your stomach tightened.

The world spun around you and just like that, you fainted.

When you woke up, the first thing you heard was Sunoo’s wheezing laughter.

"Dude." He was crying, clutching his stomach, shoving his phone in your face. "I got the whole thing. You looked like you died for a second."

You groaned, pushing him away, only to catch sight of your new silver barbell piercing your navel.

…Holy shit.

You sat up, poking at it carefully. "Fuck, that was traumatic," you muttered.

"But look at you now," Sunoo grinned, helping you stand. "A hot, bad bitch. I mean, you already were, but now you’ve got a belly ring to prove it."

You rolled your eyes. "This better not get infected, or I’m haunting your ass."

Sunoo winked, linking his arm through yours. "Worth it, babe."

People stared. Everywhere you and Sunoo went, heads turned.

And who could blame them?

Sunoo? A walking crayon, decked out in loud colors, funky sunglasses, and accessories layered on top of accessories.

And then there was you. A full-on emo resurrection—black on black on black, nails painted, piercings gleaming, boots stomping against the pavement.

The two of you together?

You looked like complete opposites, but somehow, it worked. Sunoo owned the rainbow, and you owned the night.

"People are staring." You whispered as another group of girls side-eyed you both, whispering amongst themselves.

"Good." Sunoo grinned. "Let them stare. They wish they were us."

Healing cost a lot. Like, a lot. You hadn’t realized how expensive self-care actually was.

But fuck, it felt good. Manicures. Hair dye. Jewelry. Perfume. Clothes you never thought you’d wear.

You spent shamelessly, like you were trying to buy yourself back, piece by piece.

And maybe you were.

Because with every little change, every small act of putting yourself first, you started feeling lighter.

The wind tugged at your short bangs as you sat on the bench, silver headphones snug over your ears, blocking out the world.

Your fingers moved over your notebook, writing something important—or maybe not important at all—but either way, it kept your hands busy. Kept your mind quiet.

"Holy shit."

The words were barely a whisper, but the sound of your name following after made your stomach drop. Your brow furrowed, fingers tensing against the page. With a sigh, you slid your headphones to the side, glancing up.

And that’s when you saw them.

Sunghoon. Jake. Some other guy you didn’t care about.

And behind them, standing slightly apart—

Heeseung.

Your throat went dry.

"Is that you?! Holy fuck." Sunghoon gasped, eyes wide, his gaze flickering over your appearance like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

You swallowed, feeling uncomfortably exposed under their stares.

"Long time no see," Jake chimed in, taking a seat beside you without invitation. "You’re not attending parties anymore."

"You look quite different," he added, voice slow, dragging his gaze over you—your ears, your nose, your shirt—lingering a little too long on the details.

"She became an emo, bro!" One of them laughed, the word emo rolling off their tongue like an insult.

"Yeah, but she looks totally hot." Jake grinned, elbowing Sunghoon with a chuckle.

You clenched your jaw. The way they were talking about you like you weren’t even here.

The way his eyes hadn’t left you since the moment you looked up.

You hadn’t looked at him once. But you felt him.

"You moved dorms."

You finally looked at him. And regretted it immediately.

Heeseung stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, staring straight at you.

His gaze was intense, his jaw was tight, his eyes dark, scanning you in a way that made something deep in your chest twist. Fuck this.

You pulled your headphones back on, drowning him out as you started shoving your things into your bag.

"Man, she’s back to being feisty. Heeseung’s gonna like her again."

The words were casual, amused, careless, but they made your blood fucking boil. Like you were some challenge. Some toy for Heeseung to get bored of, then chase again once you pulled away.

Fuck them for thinking you’d ever let yourself go through that again. Your movements were quick as you snapped your notebook shut, yanking your bag over your shoulder.

You stood up. Didn’t look at them. Didn’t say anything. You just turned on your heel, ready to leave.

But before you could take a step, a hand wrapped around your wrist.

"Why the fuck did you move dorm? Why the fuck did you block me?"

His voice was tinged with anger and frustration.

You ripped your arm away, glaring at him like his touch had burned you. Heeseung felt his chest tighten at the way you looked at him.

"Our last conversation answered that." You huffed, slinging your bag over your shoulder, walking away without looking back.

But of course, he followed. Ignoring the way his friends laughed behind him.

"Playing hard to get." One of them snickered. You didn’t even hesitate—you turned, raised your middle finger, and kept walking.

Heeseung’s jaw tightened.

"Fuck, that alone made you switch dorms?" His voice was sharper now, almost accusing. "Where are you staying? Why didn’t you tell me?"

You snapped.

"I don’t want any fucking contact with you anymore, Heeseung. Go to hell."

His steps faltered, eyes flickering across your face.

You had never talked to him like this before. Not when he ignored you. Not when he ghosted you. Not even when he broke you.

His fingers twitched.

Then—he moved faster.

Easily catching up, stepping in front of you, blocking your way.

"You told me you loved me, and now you’re acting like this?" You scoffed.

"And you have the fucking audacity to throw that in my face—when all you ever did was make me feel like shit?" Your laugh was bitter, broken, a sharp edge of something cruel underneath it.

"Yeah, Heeseung. I loved you." You spat the words like they disgusted you. His chest tightened.

"I loved you—so fucking much. Even when you treated me like I was nothing. Even when you acted like I didn’t exist until you were hard and lonely."

His lips parted. But you weren’t done.

"But I’m done. I’m fucking tired of this casual bullshit. I’m tired of pretending like this didn’t fucking break me. I don’t want you, I don’t need you, so do us both a favor—leave me the fuck alone and go find some other pussy to bury your dick in."

The words hit Heeseung like a gut punch, knocking the breath from his lungs before he could even process them. But the sting of your voice—sharp, raw, final—was nothing compared to what you did next.

You spat at his face.

Not metaphorically. Literally.

The warm, wet impact landed just below his cheekbone, sliding down his jaw, and Heeseung stood there, frozen in place, feeling the slow, humiliating trickle of it. It should’ve pissed him off. He should’ve been angry, should’ve sneered at you, should’ve thrown some cruel words back in your face just to get the last hit in.

But he couldn’t.

Because you didn’t stay long enough to see him break. Didn’t look back to see the way his entire world fucking shifted.

Didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter, didn’t do any of the things he was used to. No regret, no second guessing, no lingering in the space between leaving and staying—just walking away.

That’s when he saw another man.

Heeseung watched, breath stuck in his throat, as the man approached you, slipping his arm around your waist with ease, like it was natural, like he had been doing it all along. Then, before Heeseung could even begin to comprehend what was happening, the man pulled you in and pressed his lips to yours. Right in front of him.

Heeseung’s stomach twisted into a tight, ugly knot. His vision blurred at the edges, not from tears, fuck that, but from something far worse—a feeling he didn’t want to name. His hands clenched at his sides, nails pressing deep into his palms as he tried, really fucking tried, to convince himself that he didn’t care.

And what made it worse—what made his entire body fucking ache—was the way you let that man touch you, let him kiss you, let him hold you.

Like you weren’t thinking about Heeseung at all.

You looked happy.

Not forced. Not pretending. Not putting on some fake smile to get through the moment. Genuinely happy. Like you had been set free. Like the months you spent wrapped up in his sheets, tangled in his arms, breaking apart at his hands had been nothing more than a phase—a mistake you had already wiped clean from your memory.

Sunoo turned slightly, just enough for his gaze to land on Heeseung.

The look in his eyes wasn’t smug. It wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t the expression of a man who had stolen something from someone else.

Heeseung hated him for it.

His jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, but he forced his body to stay still, forced himself not to move, not to react, not to pull you away like he so desperately wanted to. He had no fucking right to do that. You had made your choice, and for the first time in his entire life, Heeseung was the one being left behind.

This wasn’t some game anymore.

This wasn’t like all the times before, when you would tell him you were done, but then come crawling back the second he called. This wasn’t like the fights in his dorm, when you would cry and yell and break your own fucking heart, only to kiss him breathless later that night.

This was real. You had actually left.

And the worst part was, you weren’t hurting.

You weren’t looking over your shoulder, weren’t hesitating at the door, weren’t giving him a single chance to fix this. You were just gone.

And Heeseung had never felt so fucking lost. He told himself it didn’t matter.

You were just another girl.

He could go out tomorrow, find someone new, wipe you from his body the same way he had done with every other girl before you. This was nothing. You were nothing.

Then why—

Why the fuck did his chest feel so tight?

Why did he feel like he had just been ripped open from the inside out?

He lifted a hand to wipe his face, expecting to feel the lingering wetness from where you had spit on him, but instead—he felt something else.

A single tear, slipping down his cheek.

He let out a quiet, bitter laugh, shaking his head at the memory—at all the things he told you, the rules he set, the lines he swore he’d never cross.

Was it ever really casual?

perm taglist: @won4me @ikaw-at-ikaw, @kristynaaah, @fancypeacepersona @tunafishyfishylike @vvenusoncasual

#enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfic #heeseung angst #heeseung smut #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung angst #sunoo x reader

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psychopomp-namine · 4 months ago

Text

I agree that the timeline is weird, and I'd like to add something to this, but I'll be coming from a different angle. this ended up being a long reply, so bear with me!!

but first: I could be wrong or may have missed this, but I don't remember it being explicitly mentioned that they met in high school? cmiiw though. I just thought they always met in university. or at least, they started being close friends during university. though I agree that the uniform could imply they met in highschool, but tbh I just thought that's just usual lu guang fashion and not necessarily a high school uniform lol.

about when they met: from how I understood it... it looks like cheng xiaoshi and lu guang didn't really start getting closer beyond being "basketball buddies" until the scene where lu guang walked upon qiao ling and cheng xiaoshi renovating the photo studio for business. lu guang helps out, and then just... stays in their lives permanently ever since. the way this was shown in S1, they didn't seem close enough yet since cheng xiaoshi was content to let lu guang just walk away without annoying him to stay. if they were close friends, I have no doubt either lu guang would have already made the decision to stay, or cheng xiaoshi would have endeared himself to him to stay. but in actuality, it's qiao ling that grabbed lu guang's attention and asked him to help around. if she hadn't said anything, lu guang really would have just walked past them.

if we are to believe that anime con really did happen after this scene, then that's just another point to them not being close friends yet until after the shop renovation. lu guang loves to read books. if he was a video game character, that would be one of his default idle animations. and I think if cheng xiaoshi was good friends with him, he would have already known that lu guang doesn't just read classic literature. he would have seen him reading his webnovels or manhua.

the reason I think they renovated the shop during university years (aside from what yingdu shows us): cheng xiaoshi's parents have been gone since at least 2008 (since he was worried they got caught in the earthquake). in S1E10, qiao ling's dad paid 10 years worth of rent for the time photo studio; after those 10 years are up, cheng xiaoshi was expected to "grow up" and then pay back the money, implying that he'll open the business by then. in YE1, qiao ling mentions this again about how cheng xiaoshi himself boasted to her dad that he would be self-reliant once he grows up. which means cheng xiaoshi opens the studio for business around 2018, 10 years after 2008, when he's 18, when he's in university (since he's 21 in 2021 during S1). his parents could have left earlier than 2008, which means cheng xiaoshi would open the studio earlier, but to me that seems unlikely. qiao ling's dad probably would rather that qiao ling and cheng xiaoshi start their business during university rather than high school, and 18 is a good age/milestone for someone to say they have "grown up" enough to start being self-reliant.

this is how I imagined the timeline. cheng xiaoshi after his parents left him (~2008 or before):

cheng xiaoshi in high school (his only friend is still just qiao ling; possibly he may have met lu guang, but they're not close yet for some reason). notably, his clothes here are different from his "child" clothes, but it's also not his "university" clothes.

cheng xiaoshi at 18, in university (renovating the photo studio with qiao ling. lu guang appears 5 minutes later and helps out). this should be around the beginning of summer, 2018:

but actually, I've got another time discrepancy for you. in S1, xu shanshan already graduated after two years of post-grad studies, which means our trio graduated from university two years ago (relative to S1 timeline). the photo that cheng xiaoshi dives into is xu shanshan's post-grad graduation dinner/karaoke, taken "the day before yesterday" or two days ago relative to the current time in S1E8. (there's something odd about this, but I'll come back to it later).

in any case, we see all three of them saying goodbye to xu shanshan and dong yi together, implying that they all graduated at the same time. S1 happened in 2021, so they should've graduated around... june-ish of 2019?

but in yingdu, they're still university students in 2019. lu guang just transferred and is even called a newbie at the anime club. but in S1, he was friends with cheng xiaoshi, qiao ling, xu shanshan, and dong yi throughout their university years, before graduation. they played games together in the lecture hall!

based on S1, I feel like the proper timeline should have been:

before may 2008: cheng xiaoshi's parents disappear

~2017 or early 2018: lu guang transfers to guidu university. assuming they're doing a three-year course, they should be second-year students at this time.

2018, april: basketball meet-cute at the tail end of the academic calendar. it's also possible the meet-cute happened in high school and they went to university together later, but that means either the shop was renovated during high school, or they weren't close friends in high school (they only seem to get closer after lu guang helps with the renovation), which to me seems unlikely. so for this timeline, we'll go with a university meet-cute.

2018, summer: cheng xiaoshi and qiao ling renovate the photo studio. lu guang walks by and helps out. anime con. vivian case. lu guang moves in with cheng xiaoshi at the photo studio. yingdu trip + doudou kidnapping case happen simultaneously. qiao ling sees 2021!cxs during a dive, which makes xu shanshan call lu guang while they're in their yingdu trip

2018, september: third year of university starts

2019, ~june: graduation from university. xu shanshan and dong yi pursue their masters degree.

2020: they continue doing their photo studio business, and gain enough of a reputation that they're talked about online and in their neighborhood (qiao ling is rumored to be an old witch). some of the chibi shorts probably happen during this year. life is good for shiguangling

2021: season one timeline. on april 8-12 someone profiles the trio in secret. emma dies on april 17. doudou case, xu shanshan case, and all of season 2 happen in october (except for the additional two months shiguang spent in the hospital recovering from their injuries afterwards, so S2 should end in around december-january).

hm, yeah, so something weird is going on. so what's actually happening in 2019? should they be graduating or should they be meeting for the first time? does doudou's kidnapping and their overseas trip happen? these all can't be happening in the same year... right?

the 2018 vs 2019 thing feels like one of those things that could be a continuity error or a retcon... but it's way too weird to retcon dates in a time traveling show. especially when certain dates are given important plot significance -- like lu guang's phone password in S2. link click has so many weird dates and times that don't make sense that it almost seems careless. is it deliberate, is it a mistake, or is time just broken in this show?

there are also some weird... timeline issues? in S1 itself. for example, the xu shanshan case happened in october. cheng xiaoshi dives into a two-day old photo from their graduation dinner/karaoke. but she should've graduated approximately around june. was it just a very late dinner...? (it looks like everyone in that room recently graduated, so this isn't a case of xu shanshan graduating late or anything). similarly, the emma case happened in april. but the mission qiao ling said was to get the data before the third quarter reports are released. fiscal years don't always align with the calendar year, but it looks like it does in china, so Q3 should be around july-september.

my initial theory was that maybe lu guang's watch is not as reliable as we think, especially since they like to blur out the dates sometimes in certain scenes. however, it does seem reliable enough. the date on his watched is synced with the surveillance monitor in the doudou case in S1, and also on the anime con board in YE1. here, it says june 10, 2019:

although... actually, there is one curious thing about that. in YE1, like you said, the year is hidden from us... at first. but they do start showing us the year after lu guang suggested doing a "divination" to find shen miaomiao.

it's blurred out the day before, when cheng xiaoshi visited the anime club. the date is june 09, unknown year.

it's also not shown at the beginning of the con, both from the con date board and lu guang's watch.

then, right after lu guang suggested doing a divination, they start showing the year on the con board. but... it's in a different style for some reason?

it could just be an animation error, but they show this style twice. and also, this episode has a lot of small differences as others have pointed out in other posts. for example: the blood pattern on the floor of the photo studio when cheng xiaoshi died, the photo frame where the glass is cracked vs completely broken, differences in lu guang's appearance in YE1 and S2 finale. individually, all of these could just be animation errors, especially since yingdu arc is made by a different studio iirc (same director though). but all of these continuity errors happening in one episode, in a time travel show? hmmm, don't know about that one

anyway, I feel like I strayed away from the original point lmao, but yeah. time is weird in link click. idk when anything is happening. I don't trust that we're actually in 2019. or rather, I don't trust that these events are supposed to be happening in 2019. something is very wrong here.

When the fuck is everything happening??? In 2018 (S1) or 2019 (Yingdu)?

Picking up from the discussion in the replies under @kuschelkissen’s post...

The year Doudou was kidnapped, Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi spent their summer* break abroad—we now know this trip was to Yingdu.

*Summer months in China are June-August

The kidnapping and the Yingdu trip happened 3 years before the events in season 1, which took place in 2021:

(Date and time on Lu Guang’s watch right before they first dived into the Doudou case: 2021-10-13, 14:30.)

Three years ago would be 2018—which means ShiGuang should’ve already met by then and grown close enough to be on a trip together. But as we’ve seen in YE1, Lu Guang hasn’t moved in with CXS yet by the end of the Anime Con, which was on June 10, 2019:

(Throughout YE1, this is the only frame of Lu Guang’s watch where the year, 2019, is not blurred out)

The Vivian case started right after…which means that ShiGuang establishing their partnership also happened later since that took place afterwarde. Notably, throughout the Vivian case, the date was never once shown. But it’s safe to assume that it started on the same day/the day after Anime Con.

So, summing it up so far, ShiGuang has not yet met/formed a partnership in 2018, which they should’ve already done to be able to go to Yingdu together, as implied in S1.

I tried to look for frames showing the actual year Doudou was kidnapped, but guess what I found instead:

Translation of relevant part:

He went missing at around 3 pm on 201X, X month, X day.

If the entire date was in Xs, I could’ve just brushed this off as a design choice to show that the actual date doesn’t matter. However, they purposely revealed 3 digits for the year, leaving only the rightmost digit hidden: 201X

The year being 2021 is prominent throughout season 1:

(see date on monitors)

The kidnapping case taking place three years ago was also mentioned several times. Doing the math is easy, so why still hide the 8 in 2018? Why not just have the entire year in Xs to make it uniform with the month and day?

Did the kidnapping and Yingdu trip actually happen in 2018? If yes, then ShiGuang meeting and partnership should’ve happened much earlier. It doesn’t align with what we’ve been shown in YE1 (partnership established some time after June 10, 2019).

There’s still room for the first meeting date actually taking place in 2018, since the year it happened was never shown. We can only infer that it took place on an April 11 from the date on Cheng Xiaoshi’s phone (April 12) and the text he sent (which uses the word ‘tomorrow’):

However, I’m gonna trust the directors’ scene order choices here. Let’s just assume Yingdu Chapter has ShiGuang first meeting on April 11, 2019.

---

I’d like to think the confusion here over 2018 vs 2019 is simply due to an error in the anime. Maybe it’s actually just 2018. Or maybe they decided to change the kidnapping/yingdu trip to two years ago instead of three… But such discrepancy on a deliberate detail seems unlikely, especially for Link Click.

Did something happen that the events (first meeting and partnership establishment) are happening a year later than they’re supposed to be? Could Lu Guang be trying to prevent the Yingdu trip?

(Also, wasn’t it mentioned before that ShiGuang met in high school? Why is Lu Guang already a university freshman in the basketball match in Yingdu??? Why are he and CXS still wearing high school uniforms???)

I don’t know what the fuck is going on anymore

#mine musings #long post #liveblogging link click #link click spoilers #link click #i also don't know what's going on tbh #i've been thinking that if lu guang has dived multiple times... technically wouldn't he be diving within a dive within a dive? diveception?#it's not the same as cxs who always comes back to the same timeline before the 12h is up #if lu guang always stays past 12h... he's definitely diveception-ing right?#and i guess i wonder if that's breaking the timeline #like maybe the timeline is over-correcting itself or something #or it's making lu guang speedrun some events lmao so he can catch up to the “correct” or “current” timeline #anyway but really. idk what's happening. time is weird in this show #a couple of of odd details could be waved away as retconning but there's too many of them at this point #and shouldn't you care about years and dates specifically? in a time travel show?#like you can HAVE continuity errors. everyone makes mistakes. but dates are something you can't be careless about in a time travel show #i'm actually wondering if we're seeing two versions of the anime con... one that happened in the og timeline #and one that's happening in the “wrong year” while lu guang is diving. idk idk i don't know with this show #link click meta

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fel-09 · 1 month ago

Text

You are his problem

Tommy Shelby x reader

Author's notes: Caring Thomas Shelby This is my own separate Roman empire

Plot : You are his problem, one continuous headache, an irresponsible woman whom he loves madly.

Words :1.3к

The night in Birmingham covers the streets with a thick, lingering gloom, and only the light in Thomas Shelby's house is on. Dim, amber, staining the old wallpaper, it barely breaks the twilight in his room. His desk is littered with papers: contracts, invoices, unresolved issues, each line weighing on him more than the bronze storm lantern next to it.

And on his bed, stretched out in lazy tenderness like a cat, lies she.

Her light breathing almost merges with the rustle of paper, her arms spread out in carelessness, and on her face an expression of serenity he can never reach. The perpetual chaos she carries with her is strangely peaceful to him.

Her clothes are lying somewhere in the corner of the room, and if anyone had said she had even a shadow of neatness, he would have only laughed. Stockings-one on the back of a chair, the other must have gotten lost in the folds of a blanket. The garter, the one he'd fastened on her pale skin himself, was gone without a trace, as was the earring she'd bemoaned last week.

She doesn't care about order, doesn't bother with things, hardly remembers where she puts them. He's used to picking up her brooches off the floor, picking up forgotten gloves from the dresser, and searching for her hairbrush, which invariably gets lost between the pillows. He's used to the fact that every morning begins with her searching for missing items and ends with her wearing the first thing that comes to hand anyway.

Thomas runs his hand over his face tiredly, bringing himself back to reality. Long fingers transfer the ink stain from the paper to his temple, but he doesn't care. He needs to finish his work so he can drift off to sleep as easily as she does - as if she doesn't have to think about anything, as if this world requires nothing more than the lazy movement of her hand to once again take possession of everything she desires.

He looks at her and feels a slight weariness, but there is a strange, quiet pleasure in that weariness. He shouldn't be babysitting, shouldn't be taking care of a man who can't even find his own stockings. But apparently that's what he had become.

She rarely did anything on her own. Not because she was lazy (though she was lazy too), but because whenever she did, it turned out to be a disaster. Inept was the word that best described her. If she tried to fix something, the result was always something completely different, most often for the worse.

She could sleep half the day, forgetting all her chores, she could lose her things without leaving one room, or she could try to help, and in doing so she could drive the situation to the point of absurdity.

Like that morning when she had suddenly thought of helping Thomas tie his tie.

He was standing in front of the mirror, frowning at his shirt and the carelessly thrown on piece of cloth. She stretched lazily, yawned, and, seeing his hesitation, suddenly suggested:

- Let me do it.

He only raised an eyebrow, but apparently he was too tired to argue.

So the tie was in her hands.

She took hold of the knot confidently, trying to pull it tight, the way respectable people do. The problem was, she'd never had a talent for this sort of thing. With each new movement, the fabric twisted into something unimaginable, and the harder she tried, the worse the result became.

By the time Thomas suddenly began coughing, she realized she was literally choking him.

His hands immediately flew to her neck, trying to loosen the deadly noose she had so diligently tied.

- God, I'm sorry! - she released the tie so sharply that it tightened even more, and now Thomas was looking at her as if deciding whether to let her live.

He loosened the noose abruptly, took a deep breath, and turned around slowly, very slowly.

- Don't move," he said, burning her with his gaze.

She did the only thing she could do in a situation like this - she put her hands up, feigning complete innocence.

- I'm sorry. I just wanted to help.

He looked at her, then shifted his gaze to his tie, which now looked like it had been used in a fight, and back at her again.

- Did you really want to help or were you trying to kill me?

She laughed nervously.

- If I wanted to kill you, I would have found a more subtle way.

He rubbed his temples and seemed to mutter something quietly to himself.

She concluded that helping was not her forte. Better to lie on the bed, entertain herself with harmless thoughts, and let Thomas deal with things on his own.

At least it was safer for his life.

And for some reason it doesn't annoy him at all.

Thomas had never said it out loud, but he seemed to have accepted that he wasn't just her lover-he was her guardian, her nurse, her controller, the only person who could keep her safe from herself.

She couldn't even take care of her own clothes.

Once he had left her alone for five minutes, and that had been enough for her stockings to disappear into the abyss of the room and her corset to somehow end up tightened on the wrong side. No one could explain how it happened, but the fact remained that if left unattended she inevitably turned herself into a mess.

So he dressed her himself.

At first he just helped - adjusting the straps, pulling up the stockings, buttoning the buttons. But then he realized that if he wanted to leave the house in the next hour, he'd have to take

he'd have to take matters into his own hands.

She sat on the bed, yawning and stretching as he carefully arranged her underwear in front of her as if he were dressing a porcelain doll.

- Lift your leg," he said briefly.

She lazily complied, and he confidently pulled the thin silk stocking over her.

- The other.

She smirked, but complied.

When he was done with it, she ran her finger along the edge of the lace.

- You tie them better than I do.

- Because I don't turn simple things into disasters.

She grinned wider.

- 'You don't trust me too much.

He looked at her, assessing her disheveled hair, the pillow mark on her cheek, and the chaos around her. His gaze dropped to her hands, which were carelessly going through the folds of her skirt.

- And have you given me any reason to trust you on this?

She shrugged her shoulders.

- Probably not. But it's still nice to have you take care of me.

He silently pulled his shirt over her and buttoned it, not even bothering to comment. He was used to it.

Used to the fact that she could go through the day without realizing she'd put her dress on backwards. Used to the fact that every morning started with him looking for clothes for her while she sat lazily on the bed, legs dangling.

And he knew he'd keep doing it.

Because she couldn't survive otherwise.

You couldn't say he was looking for trouble. They found him on their own, as if there was an invisible sign on his shoulders: "You get in trouble, you don't get out."

But then, that day, on the narrow street with the smell of fresh baked goods, he hadn't realized he was in trouble yet.

That day she accidentally forgot her wallet, and he, out of the kindness of his heart, without understanding why, bought a bun for the stranger.

Thomas hadn't realized what a mistake he'd made. He hadn't realized that the girl's parents would just as easily sell her to him, and she would be like an ownerless cat, cautious at first, and then just stay.

And he wouldn't be able to kick her out, of course.

Thomas wasn't sorry. Wasn't angry. Wasn't really angry.

To be honest, he encouraged her behavior himself.

Sure, he scolded her, spoke sternly, arched his eyebrows and gritted his teeth that she'd managed to lose her hairpin again, knocked over the inkwell again, stepped on her hemline again, and nearly tumbled down the stairs.

But as soon as he left the room, he froze outside the door.

And listened.

How she grumbled to herself, how she mocked him, how she tried (unsuccessfully, of course) to cope with another disaster on her own.

Sometimes he peeked out.

Standing in the doorway, watching her try to button the buttons of her dress and then give up and sit on the bed, frowning frustratedly. How she climbed under the bed for her lost earring but got stuck there, and only her muffled exclamation told him that the operation had failed.

And at times like this, he found it hard to hold back a smile.

But as soon as she turned around, his face became stern again, his voice steady, his steps confident.

- Why did you go under the bed? - he asked calmly.

- I lost my earring.

He nodded, walked over, bent down, and after a few seconds pulled out her find.

She looked up at him with slight indignation.

- You mean you found her right away?!

- I did.

She rolled her eyes and looked away, and he smiled imperceptibly again as he walked away.

She was a disaster. But somehow a disaster for him.

He loves her.

Not just loves her - madly, desperately, to the very edge where love becomes obsession.

He loves dressing her. Smoothing the hem of her dress, buttoning the tiny buttons, pulling her stockings over her soft skin. He loves tying ribbons in her hair because he knows that if she tries to do it herself, the knot will be so tight that the devil himself can't untie it.

She's his problem.

A cheeky, cunning, lazy cat who always loses her things, stumbles over things, and can't tie his tie without trying to strangle him. The cat he scolds and then eavesdrops outside the door, listening to her mumble something to herself.

And when her parents came back to get her...

He didn't even let them finish their sentence.

No.

They'd left her when she'd been a helpless girl at the doughnut counter. They abandoned her like she was worthless. And now that she was his, now that he was used to buttoning her dress, stroking her hair, sorting out her morning mishaps with her and watching her throw her stuff all over the house, they decided to remember they had a daughter?

Too late.

- She's staying.

A simple phrase, said without too much emotion.

She lives with him now. She is now his concern. His disaster. His curse.

And damn it, he loves her

her like he's never loved anyone before.

#reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy x reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian fanfic #x reader #fem reader

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 4 months ago

Note

im begging you to make more shapeshifter!141 tormenting witch!reader pleek

since you said pleek :)

65 / 1.1k / part 2 of shapeshifter familiars!141 tormenting witch!reader

...

You pour two warm cups of cloudy sloe ale—one for you and one for Price. You're the only one who feigns enough interest to sip it.

Price laces his hands together and leans forward. "I didn't come for blood."

None of them did, apparently. You curl your hands around your tin cup. He wasn't supposed to come at all. He visits when the moon is full. That was the deal. "I understand that."

Price’s gaze flicks to a bit of drying blood on your hand, and you feel his displeasure at the sight. "Then you also understand my irritation when I learn I've been kept in the dark."

"About what?"

"A number of disturbing reports from the townsfolk."

"Hm." Tension rolls through your muscles before you force them to soften. "I wasn't aware you spent time in the village. Do you visit often?"

Price doesn't like your coyness. His voice loses some of its politeness. "The villagers have become too savvy. They forge protective charms. They invoke holy names. They line the thresholds of their homes with salt and rue." He leans forward. "Now, how would they know to do that?"

You swallow delicately around the lump in your throat. "Old folk tales, I imagine."

"Folk tales?" He chuckles. "They're not paying protection money to cupboard sprites. Old tales don't teach them how to bless trees and cut the lumber into cradles."

"Then I wouldn't know. The villagers don't speak to me on principle."

"Then you have no knowledge of this? You’ve accepted no coin from them in exchange for your talents?”

"You know I'm banned from trading in the village market. The guards would take my head off the moment they caught me inside the walls."

“Maybe so. But there are other ways of propagating information, aren’t there?” Price leans back, arms crossed. “Rumors spread.”

You scoff to sound braver than you are. "They've puzzled out how to keep you away from their daughters. It has nothing to do with me."

Price's blue eyes flicker. "We’ve been quite careful with our food source. Gone out of our way to be discreet. They shouldn't suspect us of being in the area, let alone come up with protections against our kind."

You tilt your head in a stiff shrug. "Maybe Soap let one get away."

"Soap is brash. Not sloppy." Steel creeps into his voice. "He's more likely to bite his tongue off than spill our secrets."

You go to sip your ale again, but Price's fingers latch around your wrist as you raise it.

"Careful with that." His grip tightens as he forces your hand back down to the table. "You'll inebriate yourself if you're careless."

You slowly release the mug. After a long beat, he releases your wrist.

He doesn't say anything else, but you can't meet his eyes. The cold metal of his rings still burns against your skin.

He studies you in silence. The dry glint in his eye tells you he doesn't need to pry for what you're hiding from him. He knows already. But a deal is a deal, and you're under his protection. "Regardless of the reason, our feeding options are suddenly limited. If you insist on keeping my boys half-starved, we'll travel outside our territory to offset your stinginess."

"Fine. We’ll suspend our contract."

"Certainly not."

Your jaw sets. "A temporary suspension of our terms would serve all parties' needs well enough, would it not? You seek your fill elsewhere."

"I will seek it where my needs are most pressing."

"I don't have the means to leave my hut. I assure you I'll keep to myself until you get back."

Price smiles, and your heart sinks. "Another witch might. You?” He hums. “Besides, you know how they get when they're deprived."

You’re hyperaware of Ghost's shadow falling over you. His rough hands cover the back of your chair. It creaks in his grip. You squelch the instinct to cover your blind spot and, fisting one in your skirt under the table to steady your nerves, keep your back to him. You also ignore the gleam of two other sets of eyes behind Price, hovering in the pitch-blackness of your kitchen.

“That’s kind of you,” you say finally, “but there’s no need to be overprotective.”

Price stands. He pours the last sip of your ale out onto the soft dirt floor. You hadn’t even seen him pick it up. "We'll come for you tomorrow night, witch. You'll travel with us."

Your head spins. No, no, this isn't how it was supposed to go. You covered your tracks. You planned perfectly. He can't just uproot you—can't just kidnap you like this.

"No, I—" You stand before you realize it. All four shapeshifters turn back to glance at you. Price looms halfway out the front door. You steady yourself with a white-knuckled grip on the table. "I'm not leaving my home."

Price takes in the defiant look on your face and the tense, brittle set of your body. "No? Hmmm." He rubs his beard. "We're in a tight spot, then. Ghost, what do you think?"

The scars on Ghost's tight scowl gleam in the candlelight. "I think she owes us a meal, and we expect to eat. One way or the other."

Gaz scoffs. "There’s a proper solution."

Soap grins. "We could just take her, you know. Suspend the contract and make her come with us." His eyes light up. "We could have a lot of fun on the road."

"Not if there's a fight," Gaz says, eyeing you. "She can make real trouble if she wants to."

"No' if she knows what's good for her."

"That's enough," Price says. He looks back at you. "Lads are in a mood. They've been feeding from the villages as a stop gap, and they're not nearly full. Their tempers are short, their stomachs are growling, and they have energy to burn. You understand?” His gaze steadies on your neck. “We'll be back tomorrow night. You'd better be ready to go or else ready to give them a full meal."

Soap’s grin sharpens. The implication is obvious. Payment is payment. If you don't give them what they want, they'll take it by other means.

They turn to go. Ghost is the last to step over your threshold. "Blood won't be enough," he says. Then he's off, a black dog bounding into the night.

...

← part 1 / [part 2] / part 3 ➡

more Price / more Ghost / more Soap / more Gaz / masterlist

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wonderlandcrown · 2 months ago

Text

𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑀𝑦 𝑃𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑒

𝑉𝑖𝑙 𝑥 𝑌𝑢𝑢(𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟)

a/n : book 5 spoilers, also Vil didn't know Jamil overbloted until book 6. reader is gn and referred to as "Yuu, the prefect, you, they/them pronouns"

genre : light angst, romance(pining)

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛💜♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

Someday my prince will come Someday I'll find my love And how thrilling that moment will be When the prince of my dreams comes to me He'll whisper, "I love you" And steal a kiss or two Though he's far away I'll find my love someday Someday when my dreams come true

Vil was reluctant to stay in Ramshackle during VDC, "A messy room equals a messy mind", is what he tells his dorm mates. Though he understood that the prefect didn't choose to stay there, Vil Schoenheit was never a fan of unclean spaces.

But Vil had bigger problems at the moment, Neige will undoubtedly show up for the competition, and his dream- no, his goal will be in jeopardy.

The headmage did say that the prefect was quite talented in bringing people together...

Fine then, if staying in a dingy dorm means having a chance at winning against Neige, he'll do it.

"How thrilling, " Vil thought, "will my moment of victory be."

Someday I'll find my love Someone to call my own And I'll know him the moment we meet For my heart will start skipping a beat Some day we'll say, "I do" Things we've been longing to Though he's far away I'll find my love someday Someday when my dreams come true

Vil noticed the scars around the prefects hands, undoubtedly the result of going through no less than 3 overblots, not to mention all of them happened under a year!

Vil scoffs, Crowley must be more incompetent than he thought if he allowed a poor defenseless student to get caught up in so much trouble; or is it Yuu who is careless?

He originally saw you akin to something like a pathetic wet cat : lost, clueless, naive.

Though he'll admit he was quite wrong, your occasional sharp jabs towards the trio of potatoes(Ace, Deuce and Grim) didn't go unnoticed by Vil. He thinks you're quite funny, you act so brazenly and sarcastic around your friends but around strangers you suddenly become quiet and well spoken, you remind him of the difference of his personalities on camera and off.

Though that's the only thing he and you have in common.

Vil remembers perfectly well the glare Yuu shot at him when he cursed the delicacies Trey gifted the younger spudlings. It was a necessary measure! You're smarter than your friends, you should understand that they would've tried to break away from the diet Vil gave them.

Vil doesn't understand, he doesn't understand those potatoes, didn't they agree to this? Don't they want to win? If they do they should listen to him, he knows what's best, he's been trained for countless competitions since he was young, these diets, these restrictions have been imposed onto him ever since then and they will be forevermore.

For them, it'll only be a moment before they're back to their normal lives, so why can't they understand? Vil understood ever since he was young, so why can't they?

He's been longing for the chance to stay on stage until the very last moment, so why can't Yuu just do what he says and help those idiots cooperate with him.

Vil pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, he shouldn't dwell on unnecessary things for too long, lest he stray from his goal.

Somewhere waiting for me There is someone I'm longing to see Someone I simply can't help but adore Someone who'll thrill me forever

"Hey, uh, can we discuss something? "

It was already late afternoon, Epel had screamed at Vil and ran away from the dorm and one of your friends, Deuce, he remembers, ran after him. But they haven't been back.

He lets out a sigh, not bothering to hide his frustration.

"What is it?" Vil turns to face you, usually during the breaks between the VDC groups training, you pass around water bottles and some snacks(not cursed by Vil this time). Though this time you carry nothing, it's expected, the rest of the group only have a break because two of the members ran off to who knows where.

"I think you're being too harsh on them. " Vil scoffs, "Excuse me? They're the ones being too careless, they're not serious enough. " Vil glares at you, nose scrunched. You betray his expectations, really, he expected you to be more mature about this.

You only look at him in the eyes as a response, he notices your tense frame, you must've been planning to tell him this for a while now.

"..Epel ran away." Vil lifts an eyebrow, "And? Are you just here to state the obvious?" He hears you click your tongue, you're irritated with him? Why must you be so mean to him, prefect, all he wants is to win, is that so much to ask for?

"Look, I understand your efforts, what you do to achieve your dreams is commendable, really, "

Dreams? How dare you use such a childish word, the Vil Schoenheit doesn't dream, he has no time for that.

"but you need to realize that not everyone can handle, well, you. We want to win, obviously but uh, you're already so accustomed to this type of stuff but we're not.."

Hm? Oh, prefect, you're flattering him, so you're saying that he's so glamorous to the point that the normal spudlings can't even begin to compare?... Vil's kidding obviously, but the compliment has made him more inclined to listen to you.

"Dear prefect, I may see your point.. Though you must realize that diamonds are created under pressure, and the headmage has been far too lenient." You sigh, brows furrowed, "Tell me about it.. Again, you're not wrong, there are limits. Even the seemingly strong gems can crack if they have internal flaws."

My, isn't this new.. Prefect, it's been quite the long time since someone dared to question him, in such an interesting way no less.. Most people either agree with no objections or slander his views vehemently (Rook and Epel, Vil's looking at you) Congratulations are in order for managing to intrigue Vil of all people.

You're confused on why Vil's smiling, so.. fondly at you, did you do something wrong?

"Prefect, if you don't mind, how do you feel about joining my nightly routine tomorrow, I think you have many interesting topics to share with me."

Someday my prince will come Someday I will find the one Though he's far away he'll find my love someday Someday when my dreams come true Oh, please make my dreams come true

"The winner of VDC is.. ROYAL SWORD ACADEMY, LED BY THE ONE AND ONLY NEIGE LEBLANCHE!"

The crowd cheers endlessly, Vil feels his heart grow heavy with that same, twisting, horrendously ugly feeling of envy. His feet feel like they're on fire and Vil has to pretend the camera flashes are irritating him in order to blink back the tears.

It's ok, it's fine, the loser has to fall and Vil feels like he's been plummeting since then, now, and perhaps forevermore.(please don't let it be so)

It's even worse when Neige pulls him into an encore, his hand pressing on one of the bruises on his arm, a scar gained from his overblot. But Vil's heart only winces when he thinks of you, he thinks of your scars, you must have so many, you've been through so much..

Vil is so, so sorry, he wants to cry and beg for your forgiveness, for Rook's, for Epel's, for everyone's forgiveness. What he did was so stupidly immature, how could he just betray his own expectations, everyone expected Vil Schoenheit to be level headed, mature, and beautiful. So why? Why must he be everything except that?

Everything after his overblot was a blur, really. He thought his career would go up on smoke, everything he worked for would've been gone. Vil stared at his phone, waiting for a ping from his manager, informing him that his overblot, his weakest moment, was leaked for the whole world to see. Vil sits at the vanity, normally he would be staring into his reflection, but now he can't even bear the thought of looking at the mirror.

Suddenly he was met with a knock on his door.

"I'm not expecting visitors, if it's not urgent then go find Rook, or the prefect."

"Vil, I am the prefect."

Vil immediately sits up right, brushing away the few strands of stray hair, before inviting you in. "Come on in."

You quickly slip inside his room, closing the door behind you with a click, Vil tilts his head, usually he would never do this, unbefitting of the mature image of Vil Schoenheit, but since it's you, he finds himself at ease without putting on his performative mask. "I see you want privacy, is it personal?"

"Yeah, I.. wanted to see how you're doing. " Vil doesn't hold back the bittersweet smile, "You really are kind, don't worry about me, you should've ran away when you saw me overblot, why didn't you?"

Why didn't you? You should've ran away the moment you saw blot dripping from his lips and eyes, yet you stayed, you stayed during his overblot and all the others. Vil wants to know, how is one person so caring yet sarcastic, so plain yet so interesting, so normal yet.. Vil feels like he's never met someone like you before.

"Why didn't I? What kind of question is that, the better question is how could I leave a friend during his weakest moments?"

See? Caring yet sarcastic, Vil giggles at your response, "You should know when to stop helping people, dear. One day you'll get irreversibly wounded and there's nothing I could do to help you at that point." Vil's tone is light, though he feels an aching sensation when he imagines a fatally wounded Yuu.

You sigh, taking a step closer to Vil, "I'm not that weak, so don't think of stuff like that." The housewarden of Pomefiore only gives a tired smile, plain yet so interesting, he thinks. You're a magicless being somehow willed with such tenacity that befits the values of the Beautiful Queen, Vil might be inclined to take a few lessons from you.

It takes a while before Vil notices you're staring at him, you look at him as if you were looking at a poor, caged animal. "..Is there something else you want to tell me?" You don't respond, you only continue to look at him, at his clothes, at his hair, then you stare at him in the eye.

Vil feels a lump form in his throat, you're looking at him in such a humane way, not the lovesick expressions usually adorned on his fans, not the scowls of jealousy from the haters. You look at him as if you see something beyond the masks he wears.

Unlike what most people think, Vil Schoenheit actually has two masks, one he adorns when the camera rolls, which from there he has many others to choose from. The second he wears to retain the strict and regal image of Pomefiore, the one who rules this dorm with an iron fist, where he is both hated and loved.(not that much different from his career)

But you, you're looking at none of the two, he never saw anyone else other than his own father and Rook wear this expression. Someone who sees beyond what is presented to them.

"You're tired." Vil finally hears you say something, "I'll go draw you a bath." Your words were authoritative and left no room for arguement, it reminds Vil of himself. As the actor watches you walk into his bathroom he feels a warm sensation course through him, it's been quite the long time since he was the one on the receiving end of these affections.

No, affections is too intimate a word, but Vil can't think of any other way to describe it.

You can't see his expression now, prefect, but do know that you made Vil Schoenheit of all people cover his face to hide his blush and smile. So normal yet Vil's never met anyone else like you.

Vil hears the sound of water flowing coming from the bathroom, he hopes you finish your task soon, Vil has never felt what yearning for another's presence was like until now.

Vil already has his hunter and poison apple, so tell him what you'll be? What role will you take on to complete the Beautiful Queen's camaraderie? Will you be his raven, dutiful, working from the shadows; or his mirror : showing him what you see, beyond what Vil presents himself to be.

Vil shall wait for your answer, prefect.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬

a/n : someday my prefect will come - vil schoenheit. first fanfic tbh, there were pacing issues but I don't think it's that bad for a first timer. reblogs are appreciated

edit : chapter 2(not a continuation of this) is out now, go on my blog and search the tag "the songs of love", also you can tell me in the reblogs or comments if you wanna be tagged for chapter 3

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sailornymph · 3 months ago

Text

jealousy, jealousy; naruto dilfs

synopsis — naruto dilfs with a younger s/o ii

content warning — exhibitionism, jealousy, dry humping, age gap, implied size difference

a/n — my schedule has been extremely tight, i am a nursing student and i work, plus, i am just getting past a snow storm, but i am off today, so i am trying to get everything out.

mostly jealousy themed short pieces since i love them

♡ kakashi hatake

awkwardly standing in front of the academy, you regretted not changing out of the revealing clothing. the slits in your skirt and top, felt too provocative, to be standing in front of a school. to make matters worse, you were getting glares from the parents and googly eyes from the shinobi.

“you look a bit lost, how can i help you miss?” the ninja with a scar across his nose asked.

“i am looking for kakashi hatake”

“he is away at the moment, but he should be back in the next fifteen to twenty minutes, i believe he went to get his students, you’re free to stick around if you’d like,” he offered.

“i will, thank you”

“would you like to come inside, your appearance is attracting a crowd,” he chuckled. nodding, you followed him inside, as he made small talk.

“you three did well today,” kakashi said, walking behind naruto, sasuke, and sakura.

“oi, kakashi, who’s the pretty lady asking about your whereabouts?” asuma called out, as he approached.

“hm? pretty lady?”

“she came to the academy with a small bag, asking for you-

“you three are free to go,” kakashi interrupted, walking in the direction of the academy.

“not a chance, i want to see this pretty lady,” naruto smirked.

“you don't think it was that bookstore owner, miss y/n?” sakura asked.

“no, a woman like her would never want someone like kakashi sensei,” naruto blurted out.

“we’ll have to follow him to see,” sasuke said, already following kakashi.

entering the academy, his eyes widened, seeing you cover your mouth, laughing at whatever iruka was saying. as much as he respected the shinobi, he couldn't deny the jealousy beginning to rise.

“kakashi,” iruka said, glancing over, making you turn.

“kakashi, iruka was only keeping me company, while i waited for you,” you said, bashfully glancing at the chūnin. reaching for your forearm, kakashi led you away, just as team seven entered.

“did you see that? it was y/n,” naruto gasped.

“i knew it, she was blushing and kept looking at him, last time we saw her,” sakura said.

“iruka sensei, what is y/n doing with kakashi sensei?” naruto asked.

“i have no idea, it is better that we mind our business, let's go, you three,” he said, leading them out of the building.

“what are you doing here, what did i tell you?” kakashi asked, as the two of you walked along the empty hallway.

“i know, but you were in such a rush this morning, you forgot your things-

“we remain a secret for your safety, not mine, showing up was careless and why were you being so casual with iruka?”

“he was only being nice to me, we’re close in age, so we have a few things in common,” you mumbled, holding the bag close to your chest.

“right,” he said, rolling his eyes, stopping to lean against the wall.

“i didn't come here to put you on the spot, to cause a scene, or catch anyone’s attention. i was worried that you wouldn't have anything to eat, and you left these, i thought you would need them,” you shoved the bag into his arms. looking inside, he saw that he had left his lunch and weapons pouch. it slipped his mind to bring them, knowing that team seven wouldn't have any real missions today — it was he, who was being careless.

“also, maybe we shouldn't see each other if i cause you so much trouble,” you said, your voice cracking, making his stomach churn.

turning to storm away, he reached for your arm, swiftly pulling you into his chest, hugging you.

“i didn't mean to be brash with you,” he said.

“but you were”

“i don't want to stop seeing you, please,” he said, softly, as he stared into your eyes. you stared at each other for what felt like forever, before you were standing on your toes, pulling down his mask, your lips connecting with his.

moaning into the kiss, he wrapped his arms around your waist, opening the staff-only restroom, pulling you inside, and leaving the small bag outside. locking the door, he hungrily kissed your lips, his hands exploring all over your body.

“you hurt my feelings,” you said, breathlessly, as he kissed your neck, lifting you onto the sink.

“allow me to make up for my mistake,” he groaned, as you squeezed the print of his cock.

“you're so hard, why is that?”

“this tiny two piece,” he admitted, reaching to squeeze your ass.

“yeah?”

“why don't you apologize with your mouth first, and we will see about your friend,” you said, staring into his eyes.

picking you up as if you were a feather, he placed your legs onto his shoulder, sliding the skirt up, and moving your thong over, his face going straight into your cunt.

“oh my g-just like that,” you moaned, as his tongue explored your pussy. so wet for him already, he could feel his cock stiffening in his pants, as your fingers made their way to his hair. unbuttoning his pants, he stroked himself, his precum dripping from his tip.

“your tongue is amazing,” you slurred, looking down at the sight. he was nose deep, licking your pussy as if it were his last meal.

“fuck me,” you continued, holding onto him as he lowered you from his shoulders. your legs went around his waist, your hands around his neck, while he aligned with your entrance.

"i love you," he whispered, as his cock slid smoothly into your creaming cunt.

gasping in pleasure, you were silenced by his tongue going into your mouth. bouncing you in the air, your low moans were drowned out by his grunting.

"you're fucking me so good," you whimpered to him, feeling yourself unraveling.

"irelease all over me," he encouraged you, as you began clinching around him repeatedly.

breathing ruggedly, you nodded earnestly, trying to concentrate, as the knot tugged in your abdomen yearning to be released.

"i'm close," you cried out, the sound of your skin slapping filled the restroom before your face was buried in his shoulder, as you moaned. your body visibly vibrated a few times, as he came inside, before you pulled away, looking at him.

smiling softly, he kissed your lips as he pulled out, slowly letting your sandals touch the floor. holding your waist, he leaned down, kissing you a few more times, before he pulled away, allowing you both to fix yourselves.

“i apologize for how i spoke to you,” he said, kissing your hand, shaking his head.

“i suppose i could forgive you this once, you did ask me to not come to the academy,” you told him.

“it is alright, thank you for being so helpful,” he told you, opening the door, allowing you to exit first.

“yeah, but it’s pointless, you're done for the day and your lunch is cold now,” you pouted, picking up the bag, but kakashi simply took it from you.

“i will still be eating this, i haven’t eaten all day”

“are you sure?”

“the temperature won’t take away the flavor,” he said, lifting his mask over his mouth. reaching to hold your hand, he began to walk you out of the school.

“i don’t like the way iruka was staring at you”

“it doesn’t matter how he stared, you’re the only shinobi i want”

“there they go,”naruto yelled, catching the attention of sakura and sasuke.

“kakashi sensei, are you-are you and miss y/n together?” sakura asked, blushing at the two of you holding hands.

“but you're holding hands”

“friends hold hands, don't they?” you asked her.

“miss y/n is a very, very special friend of mine, but excuse me, i will be walking her home”

“could i please join the next book club meeting-

“no naruto, i will see you three tomorrow morning,” he said, ignoring them, as he focused on you and getting you home.

♡ jiraiya

“you’ve done well, once again, y/n, and to finish two days sooner than what was expected, becoming a jonin was fitting for you,” kurenai told you, as you walked alongside her, entering the hidden leaf.

“thank you,” you said, smiling at her praise.

“excuse me, are you y/n?” a woman said, approaching you.

“yes, why?”

“i wanted to do what was right and confess that i've been seeing jiraiya since you’ve been away,” she said, fidgeting with her fingers, unable to meet your eyes.

“very well,” you said, walking past her.

“you're not angry with me?”

“i need to report to the hokage,” you said, continuing to walk away.

“i wouldn't pay her any mind, you're practically famous now, and i’m sure it’s just their own jealousy, trying to stir drama,” kurenai said, as you nodded, both of you continuing to lord fifth. this was becoming too frequent since everyone found out, thanks to naruto’s loud mouth.

you and jiraiya were supposed to be a secret. until one day, he hadn't told the boy that he wouldn't have any training today and naturally, he showed up to your house, hoping to ask if you had seen him. you had permitted him to walk into your home without knocking in the past and he figured today wouldn't be any different. however, he was quickly filled with disgust at the sound of your moaning, as jiraiya talked you through it.

“oh my god, y/n, are you up there with the pervy sage?” he screamed, running out of the house.

your heart dropped, as you quickly rushed to get dressed, going downstairs, only to find naruto outside, clearly traumatized.

“naruto,” you called out, approaching him.

“please tell me you weren't- that wasn't-

“geez kid,” jiraiya said, coming down the stairs. again, the horrified expression appeared on his face.

“y/n, you're with that old perv?” he asked loudly.

“please keep your voice down, others will hear,” you told him. however, it was too late, many had heard him and the rumors spread.

since then, for the last few weeks, random girls have approached you, telling you things like jiraiya has flirted with them, he stalks them and writes them love letters. you hadn't confronted him, but you were growing tired of it. whether it was true or not.

reporting to tsunade, you could hardly focus, as she congratulated you, paying you for your completed mission. you didn't want to go home, not when there was a chance jiraiya would stop there when he found out that you were back. instead, you went to one of your favorite restaurants, ordering ramen and a bottle of sake.

“i couldn't help but notice you when you came in, could i join you?” the man asked, making you face him. he was cute, not your type, but enough to get your mind off of what you had been thinking of.

“sure,” you smirked, watching as he sat down.

together, you sat with the handsome man known as matsune. the sun had completely gone down the moon covering the sky, as the two of you finally left the restaurant.

“thank you for keep me company,” you bit your lip.

“it was nothing-

“y/n, there you are, kakashi said that you returned nearly four hours ago, i've been looking for you-who is this?” he stopped, noticing the man standing too close for his liking.

“you know this man, y/n?

“i do, he's a pervy old sage,” you said.

“i see. sir, stay away from y/n, or i’ll have to-

before he could finish, jiraiya punched him, watching as he flew into the small business concession stand. turning to face him, before you could open your mouth, he swiftly picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder. you attempted to break free, but his hold was firm, as he carried you, stopping once in front of your house. as soon as your feet were on the ground, he pressed his hands on the sides of your head.

“what was that about? who was that guy?” he asked, frowning, as he towered over you.

“you have some nerve”

“do i now?”

“yes, every time i’m away, you're being a pervert, am i not enough? answer me,” you said angrily, trying to shove him backwards, but he didn't budge an inch.

“what are you talking about?”

“i’m not in the mood, jiraiya-

“neither am i, you’re saying things i don’t understand, after i just caught you all cozied up with another man,” he said.

“you didn’t catch me, i sensed your presence,” you said, turning your nose up to him.

“i want your things out of my house,” you continued, turning around, unlocking the door, letting him in, as he shut the door behind himself.

as you began to walk to your kitchen, he stopped you, holding your waist, spinning you around to face him, before lifting you up.

“jiraiya, put me down”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about, it feels like you’re deflecting from what just happened, we need to talk about this”

“do not talk to me like i am a child, now put me down,” you said, angrily.

“i love you too much to end things like this, it doesn’t make sense,” he said, as he began kissing your neck.

“jir-ugh, p-put me down,” you moaned, but he simply moved to your mouth, kissing your lips. instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist.

untying your headband, you tossed it across the room, while he reached for your bag, dropping it to the floor. lifting your dress, he ripped your panties with ease. as his fingers touched your pussy, your back arched.

“i love you, my pretty jonin,” he whispered, massaging your clit.

“no you don’t, liar,” you moaned.

“i do, i would do anything for you, but i can’t leave you, not over this…confusion,” he said, teasing your hole with a finger.

“fuck,” you hissed, your face going to his shoulder.

“these she goes, let it out, princess,” he said, slapping your ass, before pushing his finger deeper.

“add another,” you moaned, opening your mouth as another thick finger slipped into your wet pussy.

“just perfect”

“kami,” you whined, as he walked to sit on the sofa.

“she’s still so tight,” he said, as your juices coated his fingers.

“i need your cock,” you moaned, impatiently, as he began to unbutton his pants.

pumping himself a few times, you were already leading his tip to your cunt. holding your hips, he pushed you down onto his shaft. both of you moaning out, your hands going to his shoulders.

“can’t you feel you how much i love you,” he groaned, lightly squeezing your hips.

lifting you, before bringing you back down, the sound of skin clapping quickly filled the room. he was fucking you as if he’d never see you again. his muscles flexed as he moaned shamelessly, praising and thanking you and your pussy for being so perfect for him.

you were unable to speak, moaning and whining as he fucked you, even after cumming, he kept going. he cock plunging in and out, until he finally came, filling up your walls.

“i hate you,” you said, tiredly, laying your head on his shoulder.

“no you don’t,” he said, picking you up, and carrying you upstairs.

“since i laid my eyes on you, the first time we met, you’ve been my muse. you’ve inspired everything i’ve written, there has been no other woman i’ve come across who makes me feel like you do, y/n,” he told you, as you dozed off, falling asleep.

waking up to the sound of knocking, you noticed you had been changed into pajamas. knowing jiraiya, he most likely provided aftercare, when you fell asleep. trying to get up, you had to pry his hands from off of you, before going downstairs. opening the door, you were surprised to see kurenai.

“hey,” you said, tiredly.

“morning, y/n, i found out something you should hear,” she told you.

“okay,” you nodded, stepping outside, shutting the door behind yourself. explaining to you the situation that she and asuma discovered late last night, your heart was on the floor.

“so jiraiya didn’t cheat?”

“no, so far it’s a group of them, fans if you will, they are in love with you and want you to themselves, so they’ve been trying to sabotage your relationship,” she said, as the guilt made its way to your chest.

“i see, thank you, kurenai,” you told her, as she nodded, leaving.

making your way inside, your heart was pounding as you walked upstairs. climbing under the blanket, you scooted close to jiraiya, wrapping your arms around him. groaning, he pulled you close, kissing your forehead.

“i'm sorry for what i did and said to you, i love you so much,” you whispered.

“i know, princess,” he said, tiredly.

“i don't you to leav—

“i'm not leaving you, get some rest, we’ll talk when i’m up, okay?” he said, lightly squeezing your ass.

“okay,” you smiled, laying your face on his chest.

♡ hashirama senju

“only those who’ve passed, earning the title of genin, will be granted the privilege of having one of our finest shinobi as your teacher, to begin your training. the rest of you will be ordinary students, but there is no need to feel down, you can try again in six months,” hashirama smiled brightly at the children and their parents. many of them clapping and cheering in excitement.

rolling your eyes, you turned away from the crowd, crossing your arms. to many, you were uninterested, the beautiful shinobi, forced to give up your career, due to the hokage’s orders. while this may have been true, you would be a liar to deny the fact that you were jealous of the hokage’s wife, who stood next to him — while you remained his secret.

“class will begin in a week, you all will be finding out who your teachers or classmates are then, good luck to you all, and again, thank you for coming out,” tobirama spoke this time.

when you were sure everyone was done talking, you were the first to walk away. this was childish of you, you knew he'd lightly scold you later, but you couldn't help it. to have spent nearly the entire night with him, just for him to not even meet your glance once today. you were beginning to question everything, you had plenty of options, and yet you were throwing them all away to be hashirama’s plaything.

“y/n,” hearing someone calling your name, you turned, surprised to see izuna approaching.

“izuna,” you acknowledged him.

“could i talk to you for a second?” he asked, as you made eye contact with madara, who was approaching.

“of course,” you nodded.

“as you know all of the uchiha children were accepted into the academy and a few of our most gifted will have a teacher training them to move up in rank-

“you’re stronger than your counterparts, if i am not mistaken, you completed the most s-rank missions before hashirama ordered you to work alongside these…teachers,” madara said, examining you.

“that may be true, but you can trust that all of the teachers will protect every students-

“no, that’s not what we’re worried about, two of those men teaching alongside you are a part of the senju clan, and we do not need senju trying to teach uchiha children,” madara interrupted.

“he’s asking, despite how rude he sounds. we don’t ask for favors often, but i figured it was worth a try since you’re a friend,” izuna said, embarrassed by madara’s straight to the point nature.

“you’re the strongest teacher and hashirama seems to have a soft spot for you, so we would prefer if you picked up our gifted students, it’s three of them,” madara continued.

“i can see what i can do but, i am not educated on the sha-?”

“sharingan,” izuna finished, nodding his head.

“izuna will educate you on what you need to know, and how you can teach them, anything else about it, leave to our clan to take care of,” madara told you.

“okay,” you nodded in agreement.

“join us for dinner, you can meet the children and parents then,” madara said.

“you have to stop with the tone, i’m not sure if you’re asking or telling me, but sure, i’ll come,” you said, when suddenly, izuna snickered, and madara chuckled.

“i think everyone will like you,” he continued, holding out his hand, as you accepted it to shake, doing the same thing with izuna.

“what is going on here?” hashirama asked, mito close behind him.

“nothing that concerns hashirama senju,” madara said, walking away.

“see you then,” izuna whispered, as he left.

hashirama furrowed his eyebrows at the interaction, before facing you. you attempted to avoid his eyes, bowing before keeping your eyes focused on his cloak instead.

“y/n”

“we were only talking about the school, excuse me, lord first, i must get going,” you bowed again and were gone in a flash.

spending the rest of the evening at home, you eventually got dressed and headed to the uchiha compound for dinner. everyone was lovely, you wished outsiders could see how beautiful and kind this clan truly was. meeting the parents of the gifted students, each of them excited for their children. after the eventful night, you found yourself leaving the compound, madara alongside you.

“i am grateful for your compliance, izuna said that you two were friends, but you don't talk as much as when you were younger,” madara said.

“it's nothing, izuna and i are both very busy, but that doesn't change that he is a great friend,” you shrugged. your mind could've been playing tricks on you, but madara’s gaze lasted longer than usual.

“uchiha don’t intermingle with outsiders, but i am willing to make an exception for you, in more ways than one,” he said, making you grin, and roll your eyes.

“goodnight madara,” you shook your head, waking away. you could feel him watching you. he was reeking of sex appeal, and was very handsome, but you were unfortunately still wrapped around hashirama’s finger.

going home, you sighed in exhaustion, as you unlocked the door. shutting and locking it, just as you turned on the lights, you jumped, recovering quickly. hashirama sat in your living room, staring at you, with a blank expression.

“you were at the uchiha compound, why?” he asked.

“i don't believe that is your business,” you said, as he stood up, slowly approaching you.

“y/n, i am not in the mood for these antics,” he told you sternly.

“and why is that lord first?” you gasped, as he pressed you into his chest, within an instant. when it was just the two of you, you could forget that he was the strongest, the quickest, a god of shinobi to many.

“you're unusually close with them, especially izuna-

“i thought you wanted everyone to embrace the clan,” you said, quickly dropping the smug grin, as his hold tightened.

“yes, but you are mine, and i will not share you with anyone, senju or uchiha,” he told you.

“tch, you're a selfish man, you flaunt your wife for your village to see, ignoring my presence, but crawl in my bed and whine when i give another man the time of day,” you scoff.

“is that what you think? i never can keep my eyes off of you. i am with you, just as much as when i am with mito. you are the first person i recommended when tobirama asked about potential teachers. i love you, and i’ve never hidden that, married or not,” he glared at you.

“yeah, if you say so,” you grumbled.

“you don't think i love you?”

“i said, if you say so”

“do you love me?”

“hashirama, you know the answer-

“say it,” he said, leaning forward to kiss your lips.

“this…is… unnecessary,” you said, in between each kiss, moaning as he moved to your neck.

“say it, for me,” he whispered, reaching to open your kimono, and kissing along your neck.

“i love you too,” you said, breathlessly.

“good girl,” he said, swiftly picking you up, carrying you upstairs. swapping your legs around his waist, you whimpered as he continued placing kisses along your neck.

“what did you talk about this morning with them?” he asked, while you smiled.

“nothing that concerns hashirama senju,” you teased, as he sat on the edge of your bed, tugging at your thin undergarments.

removing your top, you reached for his hands, placing them on your breast. biting your lips, you began grinding your hips. you could feel his bulge, readying to spring free at any moment. moaning lowly, you kissed his lips, as he lightly squeezed your breast.

“my pretty girl,” he encouraged, licking his bottom lip, focused on your hips and the friction you were causing.

“i’m so close, baby,” you moaned, increasing your grinding before your leg began to lightly shake. he held back his grunts, watching as you unraveled before his eyes, holding onto him as you ruined your panties on his kimono.

reaching to pull you even closer, he was surprised when you pulled away, standing up. furrowing his eyebrows, he watched as you removed the kimono, walking back and forth, only wearing panties. you were getting ready for bed and weren’t acknowledging him at all.

“was that all you wanted to do?” he finally spoke up.

“sex doesn't solve the problem always,” you said, crossing your arms, and leaning against the wall. staring into your eyes, he put his head down.

“i love you both, equally, it doesn’t make it right, but just like i love and provide for her, i have kept my promise and i have done the same thing for you. my marriage doesn’t change my love for you, the things i have in place for you, the way i would die or kill for you and your safety. you may not have noticed, but i saw you this morning. i watched your every move, how you nervously fixed your hair and kimono, your hesitation to be serious or smile, your glances or laughs at our small comments,” he told you.

“what is your point?”

“even after this act is up, you will be my woman. you know where to find me, when you're ready to talk,” he said, standing, beginning to walk away.

“wait,” you said, watching as he stopped, you began to approach him.

“madara and izuna asked that i train the uchiha students who have already been classified as genin,” you continued, your arms wrapped around your body.

“and what of madara’s lustful eyes?”

“you had me followed?” you glared, but his face remained unchanged.

“i’m sure it was nothing but a crush, just like the others, but i was invited to learn about the sharingan and meet the children,” you said, shifting your gaze.

“students are not hand-picked by their teachers, your students are chosen based on-

“they don't want their children taught by a senju, and they figured since you have a soft spot of me, you would allow me to do so, and i agreed,” you said.

“you did what?”

“izuna is a good friend of mine, and he never asks for anything, it was the least i could do,” you said.

“of course, izuna asked, and because he asked, the rules should be changed?” he asked, angrily.

“no, because i’m asking you. the hokage. you can make an exception for me. i don't want to be with izuna and i certainly am not interested in madara uchiha, but i would like to build a connection with other clan members. despite how things seem, i can't help but think of the first hokage. he's such a man, how he speaks to me, how he holds me, takes care of me, fucks me, there isn't another man who could take his place if they wanted,” you said, wrapping your arms around him.

“am i supposed to bend rules just because you asked?”

“please, hashi, for me,” you pouted.

“fine, i’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he sighed.

“wait, come join me in the shower, i’d like to show you something,” you said, reaching for his hand, and leading him into the bathroom.

♡ minato namikaze

“i told you, we should’ve left tomorrow,” mei grumbled, as you walked through the forest.

“we’re almost there, quit your complaining,” you said, trying to pay attention to where you were headed.

“can you even see where we’re going?”

“yes, we’re close, can’t you hear the waterfall close by,” you said.

“i honestly thought it was crickets and frogs,” he said.

“no, we’re close, minato and i came through this way, a few weeks ago,” you said.

“that’s why you insisted that we leave so early, to get back to minato,” he teased.

“you’re the same way with kunari, you hate to be away from him for too long,” you said.

“totally different, i spend time away from my sugarplum, you on the other hand, left this morning and wanted to come back already, to get back to this man,” he snickered.

“i’m sorry, i can’t help it, since moving in with him, i am just enjoying being under him,” you said, your face heating up.

“how was meeting his son and ex-wife?”

“naruto is the sweetest boy ever, he wants to be hokage. kushina is also really nice, we aren’t friends but we’re cordial,” you told him.

“look at you, fitting right in. i still think he’s too old for you, but if you’re happy, then you have my support,” he smiles.

“thank you you, mei, it means a lot,” you cooed.

“miss y/n,” you heard, making you glance over, screaming, but stopping as you noticed kakashi.

“my goodness, kakashi, you scared me,” you laughed.

“my apologies, i was only curious what you were doing so far out, without an escort,” he explained.

“mei and i are returning from a festival, we were supposed to be escorted tomorrow morning, but we decided to leave after our fun,” you told him.

“then i will see to you getting to the hidden leaf safely for the rest of your journey,” he said, looking down.

“that is fine with me, what were you doing out here?”

“catching up on some reading, before it got so dark,” he shrugged.

“oh the icha icha series, you told me about?”

“yes,” he nodded, sheepishly.

kakashi was only a few years younger than you, already a jonin and quite handsome. however, he wasn't your type, he was very mysterious and nonchalant. while you preferred the extroverted chalant men, like minato. he was bold, straightforward, and didn't care about being judged, especially when it came to being expressive.

“kakashi, do you remember my friend, mei?”

“i believe so, he refers to his partner as sugarplum?” he asked, making you snicker.

“yes”

“i see, nice to meet you, mei,” he said, as he began to walk alongside you.

making small talk the rest of the journey, you could actually see minato, as he came from around the corner, speaking with another shinobi. every night, he walked through the village, wishing the villagers a good night, as he passed by.

“have a good night, y/n and mei,” kakashi said, leaving the two of you.

“ugh, did you see how he kept looking over at you, you should give him a chance,” mei said.

“mei, i have minato, and you just said you supported my decision”

“i take it back, why be with him, when you seem to have more in common with kakashi, he's also closer in age”

“he's younger than me,” you crossed your arms.

“by what? three years? that's better than nearly an age difference of ten years”

“it's only eight, mei”

“oh, that's such a difference,” he said, sarcastically.

“he’s cute, but not someone i’m interested in, goodnight, mei,” you said, walking towards where minato stood.

“you're back already, darling,” he smiled, embracing you.

“i seen what i had to see,” you told him, kissing his cheek.

“i’m going to get home to my sugarplum,” mei said.

“would you like to be escorted home, mei?” minato asked.

“that won't be necessary, thank you. y/n, think about what we talked about,” he said, leaving the two of you.

“i can't believe you came back so soon, it hasn't even been an entire day,” minato laughed.

“i missed you, i wish you could've come along,” you pouted.

“maybe next time, hop on,” he said, catching you as you jumped onto his back.

walking home, your conversation consisted of his jokes and your giggles, before he was let you jump onto the ground.

“naruto will be over tomorrow morning,” he told you, unlocking the door, letting you in.

going to the kitchen, you grabbed your container of strawberries and sat at the table. stretching your legs, you moaned at the taste of the sweet fruit. minato soon came into the kitchen, leaning on the counter, as he stared at you.

“your friend, mei, he doesn't seem to like me too much,” he said.

“why do you say that?”

“he frowned when you said my name,” he raised an eyebrow.

“he is convinced that i would be a better match with kakashi, we learned that we have a few things in common, when he escorted us to the village, from the waterfall,” you grumbled.

“would you rather be with kakashi?” he asked, immediately, making you frown.

“absolutely not, he was only suggesting him because he’s close to my age, mei is my friend, but his opinions are nothing more than his opinions,” you said, going to stand up, approaching minato.

“your student is a great young man, but he is not you, and i couldn't care about anyone disliking what we have,” you continued.

“i'm sorry, i get so jealous at the thought of another man taking my place,” he shook his head.

“hey, thank you for communicating how you felt,” you said, kissing his lips.

“you look amazing,” he complimented, kissing your lips again.

hungrily making out with each other, you went to the floor, staring into his blue eyes. unbuckling his pants, you lowered them, taking his cock into your hands. he was a grower, stiffening in your hands, while you got comfortable on your knees.

grabbing a handful of your hair, he caressed your cheek, as his cock slowly sprang up, pointing in your face. kissing his tip, you could taste his precum on your lips.

taking as much as possible, you relaxed your throat, taking him over and over. drool running down your jaw, as you made a small gawk noise.

“so beautiful sucking my cock,” he hummed, smirking at the vibrations from your moans. your hand deep in your panties, rubbing your clit. his breathing becoming heavy, as his cock twitched.

“i’m going to cum, fuck,” he hissed, pulling out, jerking himself off, moaning as his seed squirted on your face. letting out an exhale, he smiled at you, as you giggled, licking his tip, before standing up.

“i feel so much energized than before,” you told him, swiping away a bit of the semen, licking your finger.

“you look so cute with your facial,” he laughed, pulling you close.

“i think i’d like another,” you bat your eyelashes.

“then we better hurry, knowing naruto he will be here just as the sun rises,” he laughed picking you up, carrying you to your shared room.

♡ orochimaru

“i didn't mean to wake you,” you whispered, climbing back into his bed, your hand brushing over orochimaru’s chest.

“did you feed the child?” he asked, clearly agitated from the crying.

“yes, lord orochimaru,” you bit your lip. from your eyes and the way you were pushed against him, he figured this was your nonverbal way of asking to be fucked — however he had no intention of giving in to your wishes. he didn’t need you, sexually or emotionally, your role was to care for the heir you managed to give him and nothing more. at least these were things that he tried to convince himself to believe, despite, the secret attachment he had grown to have for you.

the way you excitedly included him in every step of the pregnancy, beyond his testing. waddling to him, as he returned from missions to give him updates, begging that he touched your stomach when the baby kicked. asking his opinion about the fetus and even how kabuto informed him that you asked to learn medical ninjutsu, your reason being that you wanted to be more useful to him. perhaps that's why he became so lenient, allowing you to sleep in bed with him.

“must you be such a nuisance,” he said, abruptly sitting up, shrugging you off.

“my apolog-

“i don't care about your apology, find something to do with yourself,” he said, sounding more like your parent than a partner, could this even be considered a partnership? you were the mother of his newborn son, it didn't seem to be more than that anymore.

“yes, my lord,” you nodded, rubbing your arms as he went into the bathroom, slamming the door.

six months, it had already been six months since giving birth and you were on your best behavior, yet he still wouldn't touch you. you occasionally caught him watching as you breastfed the infant, but he wouldn't speak. he’d allow you in his bed, but too much moving or touching him led to a threat or two. you had trained as hard as possible, trying to maintain your glow previous to your pregnancy. all you wanted was to be touched, to be looked upon in admiration, lust, anything, as long as he finally looked at you.

“lord orochimaru,” kabuto knocked on the bedroom door, before opening it, just as the bathroom door opened.

“the boy you spoke of, they have found him,” kabuto said, making his lord smirk. another vessel.

“we will leave shortly,” he said, as kabuto nodded, leaving the room, hardly sparing you a glance.

“will mamushi have any tests today?” you hesitantly asked, noticing him roll his eyes. you insisted on the nickname for the boy, due to him taking all of orochimaru’s snake-like features.

“when i return,” was all he said, satisfied when you nodded, standing to leave his room.

going to the newborn’s room, you sat beside his bassinet, watching in adoration. the only trait he had from you was your hair color and smile, the rest was orochimaru, but that didn’t change your love for him. there had been plenty of nights that you came into his room and you’d watch him sleep, amazed that you could help create such a beautiful baby.

“where is lord orochimaru?” karin stopped, as she passed by, backing up into the doorway of the room.

“he may have already left, kabuto said his next vessel has been found,” you said boredly, playing with the ribbon you had weaved into the bassinet.

“i see…are you alright?” the girl asked, making you turn to face her. you weren't necessarily close with any of his students, but the two of you found yourselves making conversation amongst each other often.

“i will be,” you smiled.

“how about i watch mamushi while you take a break, lord orochimaru most likely will not return until later today,” she offered.

“are you sure?”

“yes, go on, find something to do,” she waved you off. what could you do, maybe visit the said sound village? you had only been once when you were first brought to orochimaru, and while he acted like he couldn't stand you, what he hated more was other men looking at you — meaning the furthest you had been since then was outside of his main headquarters.

“thank you so much,” you told her, going off to your room. changing from out of your grey kimono, you found the soft purple kimono, gifted to you from your late mother and the matching hairpin.

waving bye to karin, you made your way out of the headquarters, towards the village. the walk was longer than anticipated, after getting lost a few times, but you soon found your way into the village. you had been told how everything was a cover-up, everyone even the store owners, were soldiers of orochimaru. immediately you noticed two things, one, the men-to-women ratio was substantially different and two, you stood out like a sore thumb.

passing the few stores and small restaurants, you bit back your smile noticing the hot spring. you hadn't been to a hot spring in nearly two years. entering the lobby, you reached for your wallet, when a shinobi spoke up.

“i will pay the beautiful woman’s fee as well,” he said, handing over extra money before you could refuse.

“thank you so much,” you bowed, taking notice of the other men staring at you. you usually weren't attention-driven, but after going almost an entire pregnancy and an additional six months with no attention or affection, other than directions of what to do with your child, you felt deprived and were taking in every second of the attention you were getting.

“this way, ma'am,” the woman said, leading you to the women's section and locker room. changing into the white towel, you made your way to the warm water. you could feel their eyes, yet you couldn't see them.

“he should be up in a few hours, my lord,” kabuto said, approaching the large window. the northern headquarters, directly above the city, allowing the perfect view of the citizens.

“very well-

“my lord, i think you would want to come see this,” kabuto said, backing away, allowing orochimaru to approach the window.

“what am i looking at?”

“the hot springs, my lord”

searching for a moment, he stopped as his eyes landed on the establishment. he never realized the hot springs could be seen from this view — he furrowed his eyebrows as he noticed you. what were you doing here? who was with his son?

the women’s hot spring surrounded by shinobi, peeping and he knew that you could sense them, after all of your training. clenching his jaw, he watched as you held the towel close to your body, before undoing it, letting it fall to the ground.

“bring the boy to me, when he is finally awake”

the flask in his hand shattering, from how hard he was squeezing it. your hips switched, as you made your way to the water, your mouth movements let him know that you released a moan. laying your head back, you closed your eyes. he felt blinded by rage, as his feet moved on their own. perhaps if his men had been away on missions, he wouldn't have made a big deal — but to intentionally flaunt your body to these men, when you were his, your hair, your breast, your womb, your pussy — all his. it didn't matter to him, even if he hadn't touched you in years, there was no man worthy to lust after the same woman he bedded.

he was in front of the hot springs in no time, the ninja and business owners bowing, as he entered. walking past the women, he entered the women's area. you sat alone in the warm water, your breasts perky as ever.

“this is not what i meant when i said find something to do with yourself,” he spoke, making you jolt, sitting up.

“lord orochimaru”

“you didn't expect me to catch you? showing off your body like some common whore, when you knew they were watching, come out, all of you,” he spat. as the other ninja made themselves visible.

“lord orochimaru, we had no idea she belonged to you, we ask for your mercy,” one of the men spoke.

“did i allow you to speak?” orochimaru frowned, making a few hand signs, before the shinobi coughed up blood, falling to his knees.

“now, back to you, you foolish woman, you wanted my attention and now you have it,” he continued, stalking towards you. with a swift movement of his hand, his clothing was coming off, as he stepped into the water.

standing up, you tried backing away from him, you stood no chance against him. however, he was much quicker than you, moving in front of you in an instant, before you could make any further movements.

“my lord-

“did i give you permission to speak?” he hissed, as you quickly shook your head.

your eyes widened as his hands pulled you closer, his hands exploring your body. your breast pressed against his chest, as he stared into your eyes. you couldn't see it before, but now it was clear jealousy. his eyes were full of jealousy.

“i’ve yearned for your affection, i am not asking for you to change your nature, but please embrace me as i have done for you. you don’t teach me anymore, advise me, touch me, i have no value to you anymore, only to take care of mamushi. so you blame me for accepting their lust-

he stopped you, by grabbing your lower face.

“if you held no value to me, you would be dead, yet here you are — my liability”

“if i am a liability, release me-

“no”

“why?”

“i’m afraid i like you too much to do that,” he confessed, lowly. staring into his eyes, you did the unthinkable, kissing his lips.

he was shocked for merely a second, before he took control, hungrily exploring your mouth. picking you up, he sat you on the edge of the hot springs. his snake like tongue trailing from your neck, back up to your mouth, as you moaned loudly.

“your pussy smells so sweet and she’s so wet,” he said, breaking the kiss to stare at your cunt. becoming shy, you began to close your legs, when he stopped you, looking back into your eyes.

“i like you too,” you whispered, making his eyes widen. pressing his lips against yours once more, he reached into his undergarments and pulled out his cock.

rubbing it against your dripping cunt, before pushing himself in. moaning loudly, you wrapped your legs around his waist. you could feel the eyes of the shinobi on you, but you still couldn't care, especially when you were finally getting what you wanted so dearly.

“oh my lord, just like that,” you cried as he sped up his thrusts. your breasts looked perfect, bouncing, he couldn't help but squeeze them. throwing your head back, your eyes began to roll.

“look at you, such a dirty whore, tell them who you belong to,” he instructed, grunting, as he continued fucking into your tight hole.

“i’m yours, only yours, m-my lord,” you whined, feeling yourself repeatedly clenching around him.

“oh, your pussy is clenching, do you want to cum?” he asked, smirking as you nodded through your lewd noises.

“cum on my cock, make it worth my while,” he ordered, grinning as your hips met him halfway, as you whined like a bitch in heat before you came all over his cock. a few thrusts later and he was cumming inside of your cunt.

“you're all dismissed,” orochimaru said, with just those words alone, the feeling of eyes disappeared. he stood in front of you, staring into your eyes.

“lord or-

“you are very aware that i am not known for giving many chances,” he told you.

“yes”

“you have one last chance, and if you ever try that stunt again, you will wish you could unsee what i will do,” he said, satisfied when you nodded.

“who is with mamushi?” he crossed his arms.

“karin”

“get dressed, we’re heading back,” he said, turning to walk away, as you followed behind closely.

“what’s with the stupid grin?” he asked, glancing over.

“you finally called him mamushi”

meanwhile back at the main headquarters…

“oh this is so cute, hold him closer sasuke,” karin cheered snapping photos of sasuke and suigetsu. they happened to be passing the room when they saw her playing with lord orochimaru’s son and became curious. however, they now regret it as they sat wearing the cat ears, forced to hold the baby close, as she took photos to show you when you returned.

#naruto x reader #naruto #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #jiraiya x reader #hashirama x reader #minato x reader #orochimaru x reader

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